A Morning at Sandy's Beach Park

The Rx-8 purrs to life sounding like a hungry kitten. I’m still half asleep wishing I had taken the time to shower and really wake up but the sleep I got felt nice … at the time. The break of day lingers for no one and that little extra sleep now threatens my picture taking opportunities. Even so, the longer route beckons and I hesitate only a moment on the decision. Time be damned, I'll drive faster! Quickly the RX-8's wide tires are turning dangerous curves into just another road.

The last corner reveals that I am not too late. The darkness recedes. Gray highlights converge and the stars’ mastery of the night comes to an end creating a soft pink haze peeking around the clouds that lightly sprinkle the distant horizon. The moon is hanging in the west awaiting its chance to sleep while the sun is just sipping its morning coffee.

A light film of sand baths the parking lots at Sandy’s Beach Park. My rear tires skid as we make the tight corner with too much speed. An old, black SUV sits quietly parked across two stalls and angled. The windows are poorly tinted and half open. A dark brown foot dangles out the side window. I turn the key and the hungry kitten is reluctantly silenced. The thunderous roar of the waves pounding the beach catches my attention. The thud of water hitting hard sand is deep and full pressing on my chest letting me know that danger is near. A rush of air follows like a deep cleansing breath. Today’s waves are much bigger than normal.

In the lee of the wave, is a man in a red, long-sleeved shirt and black shorts. Barely visible, he hurries along the wet sand like a sand piper searching for breakfast. His movements are quick and accurate though he is getting to an advanced age. In his hand, he holds a counter balanced black wand with a flat disc on the end as he sweeps from side to side. In a flash, he is down on his knees and up to his hips in the salt and sand filled water. Time is of the essence as the next wave is making its approach. The wand is slung askew on his back as he burrows into the sand with a metal scoop. Reaching in, he paws at the sand and stuffs an object into a netted pocket on his hip. With the roar of the next wave clearly upon him, he rapidly makes his way up the beach as thousands of pounds of water reclaim ownership of the space where he stood only moments before.

The foot in the black SUV wiggles sleepily. A film of salty sea spray bathes the windshield and hood. Today’s occupants, late of an all nighter at the beach are two woman and two men. They are all young and no doubt claiming to be at a friend’s house. One of them is snoring slightly and there is the faint odor of stale beer, pot and cigarettes.

My aluminum tripod hooks on my shoulder. It is ancient but thankfully light. The camera bag is not so light but my lenses and my camera are like old friends. They are worth the weight as I hop the concrete and descend the hill of sand. The red shirted treasure hunter makes another dart down into the receding water looking somewhat like a tern. The sand is soft between my toes but there is no time to enjoy the sensation as the gray hues are stepping aside for a reddish glow. He sees me and gives me a full bodied wave, his arm reaching high over his head sweeping from side to side. I nod back. He is lonely. It seems obvious to all but him. Maybe he does know. I’m not sure. In some ways, his overeager manner keeps him lonely. He compensates by keeping busy with the mundane.

I find my spot on the point of the sand. This point shifts from week to week and month to month as the ocean reclaims what is hers. Some days, this point is further south and other days farther north. In any case, the point allows me to take pictures as if I was waist deep in the water while staying mostly dry. Leaving my backpack on higher elevation, I’ve got my camera, lens and tripod settled as close to the waves as I dare. It’s important to shoot as low as possible without risking water damage.

Today’s task is to capture the sun rising across the waves of Sandy’s Beach. After the sun rises, I might also point my lens in the direction of some of the boogie board surfers. There is someone behind me as I focus and tune my camera. I know that he is wet and smells of the sea and wears the same red shirt each time he comes to Sandy’s Beach.

“Hi!” he says too enthusiastically.

I smile and nod. It encourages him to continue.

He is an older Asian man with pasted down black hair. Normally, there is a shock of hair that points straight up but not today. His smile is toothy on top pushing his lips aside as he talks.

“I found a lot today! See, there is this wedding ring. I bet it’s a new one. It’s just so shiny. Can you imagine? You’re on your honeymoon and you’re nuts enough to go into the water at Sandy’s Beach. You get crushed. I mean crushed and then dragged up the beach and the ultimate humiliation is that you lose your wedding ring. Imagine that! You lose your wedding ring. I mean, what do you say to that? I mean, the guys gotta say, ‘Honey, I almost died at Sandy’s Beach. Oh and I lost my new wedding ring.’ Do you think she believes him? Do you?”

I pause. Engaging in conversation with him can take on a life of its own. He squints.

“If you were her, would you believe him?” I ask.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Marriages aren’t all that strong today. Couples don’t know their roles. Couples don’t know what to do. They don’t … ” He is in mid sentence and darts back into the lee waves in search of his next find.

The glow is coming. Another wave crashes down surrounding my ankles and sinking the tripod deeper in the sand. I adjust the tripod. Peeking through the eyepiece, I adjust the lens again. I’ll do this at least 5 more times before pressing the shutter for the first time.

Another car glides into the parking lot and the tires slide on the sand. The fortune hunter waves at me. He’s found something else and runs up the beach to avoid another bone crusher. The car is a white stretch limo. Their occupants bound from the back doors.

“Hurry, it’s coming!” she shouts. Her white gown flows behind her. The veil flops in the wind as she sprints across the beach. Three men follow closely, a photographer, the groom, and what appears to be an advisor. The advisor is positioning her along the edge of the water. Pink colors are rising up at the edge of the distant Pacific Ocean. “Hurry!” she implores.

“No-no, dear! Put your arms out, out like this and flowing!” He demonstrates and she tries her best to copy him. The photographer seems uninterested as he frames and clicks the scripted shots.

She’s heavy. No, that’s too nice and I’ve grown tired of political correctness. She is fat. She is also demanding. The photographer clicks away almost randomly. Her arms are flowing out behind her holding her veil. In her mind, the wind is blowing through her hair and the moon and stars are swirling around her. In her mind, the force of her personality is the core of the universe.

She points at the sand and the groom comes closer with heavy feet, hands in pockets. He is ordered to smile and does so. The camera clicks capturing plastic expressions that will carry them for a few years before giving way to the sadness of their unhappy situation.

I capture a partial orange ball rising in the east. It is now mine and it will never be there again. An old Camry, red with a gray patch on the door swings into the lot but parks a bit further down the beach. The license tag indicates that it is a “Rent-a-Wreck.” The occupants are light as they exit. She clicks her hand-held camera at him as he gets out. Her laugh is lost in the wind and the waves but I see it on her face. She floats across the sand between the palms. He serenely leans against one and she reaches out and captures him again. I imagine that she has been taking his picture since they left Waikiki. He’s reaching for her and she captures his shy smile.

Her white gown is tight at the hips and loose at the shoulders. It slows her descent to the ocean. There’s a hibiscus flower tucked neatly behind her left ear. It's a dash of color for her white dress, black hair, and fair skin.

The orange ball is now completely in the haze as is shimmers. Another wave cools my ankles and red shirt just misses a crushing vertical wave. The first bride puts her hands on her hips. Ringlets of her dark hair float behind her. She leans forward, chin out. I can read her lips. Hell, I can read her mind. “Hurry up, I can’t stand like this forever!”

The second couple is oblivious to me. He steals her camera and snaps photos of her giggling face. Waves and a beautiful sunrise will not spoil her radiance. Her hand flashes up to cover her mouth. A small mole graces her right cheek giving contrast to her pale Japanese complexion.

I approach. Using hand motions, I explain how I wish to help them. His smile is a “don’t bother” and a “we’re not worth it.” I motion, that I wish to do this for them. He hands me his camera. With the light behind them, I set the flash to FILL and it comes out perfect. They are standing still and erect. The happy couple is put on hiatus for the moment and I take another. I motion, “SMILE,” and she giggles, click and her giggle is captured. I move them to the left causing the sun to cast gentle morning shadows across their faces. He smiles, she smiles, and I click. I turn them to face each other and the sun is at three quarters lighting up her face while giving masculine shadows to his face. Click, it’s in there. She leans in and puts her head on his chest, her hand gently placed under her chin. Click, it’s in there.

I contemplate their situation. His suit is cheap and rented. Wrinkles adorn his rented white shirt clearly on its second day. Her dress is also rented and ill fitted. They've started a life together with a dream vacation. All their savings were used for the flights and the hotel and they couldn’t afford a wedding dress or tuxedo. He is very practical and she defers to him in matters of finances. “Renting is better as that dress would never be worn again,” he would explain. This morning, she had convinced him to come to this beach for pictures before returning their clothes. He defers to her for matters of the heart and that is why they are at Sandy’s Beach at sunrise.

I click again though I’m not sure what I’ve just captured. Will this be a picture that they will look at 30 years from now and wonder who was the photographer. I look at the back of the camera and see their happy faces, enamored with each other and the sun peeking out. It’s good enough. Actually, it is better than the paid photographer 30 yards down the beach. I don't make it better. The camera doesn't make it better. It’s better because the subjects' warmth radiates right through the lens of the camera.

Handing it back, he offers me a few dollars and I laugh and raise my hands like in a bank robbery. No, not necessary. He takes my picture, bows and they run up the beach to the Rent-a-Wreck Camry.

The RX-8 awaits my key and the day awaits my assault. The sun is up and my moments with it have passed. Red shirt waves another gold ring at me. It is a very good day for him and he gets caught in another small wave. It is time to go home. My bride of 28 years waits for me there. The body board surfers can wait another week as I've just been reminded of where I want to be.

East Coast Swing!

Heavy rains poured down around the car as I drove along the New Jersey Turnpike. Kathy was asleep beside me snoozing lightly as she nestled into the pillow crooked between her neck and the window.

How did we get here? Why were we driving through the cold rain of New Jersey?

It started back on the island of Oahu. Kathy and I felt a bit of the "Island Fever." That's a condition main-landers get when they feel cramped. Cramped by the tightness of being confined to a space that you can drive in 1/2 a day. It's not dramatic. It's hard to describe as it closes in around you like an invisible python slowly, and quietly sucking the breath out of you. It is a sense of needing ... well, needing more space; needing old friends; and needing family. The locals here know of it and have had it described to them but they don't really understand it.

We could feel it and when David Horton announced his wedding plans and suddenly we found some synergies that could not be avoided. The strategy was set! We would fly to Massachusetts, drive to Virginia, and drive to North Carolina! This would allow us to visit friends and family and still attend a wedding. Excellent!

A few months later, we heard that David was NOT getting married. Naturally, the questions crashed down upon us from friends and family. Are you still coming? Does this mean you're changing your travel plans? Can you stay with us longer? Is Krista coming? What about Tucker, where is he in all this? Will Matt come to Virginia or North Carolina?

The island fever had us in its grips and we were going to the east coast just for ourselves.

Our first stop was Bellingham, Massachusetts where we stayed with Al and Barbara Horton (parents of David) and visited with friends from that area. The foliage colors had not yet left though they were definitely waning.

Al got busy on the grill with his excellent ribs ...

There were plenty of attractive young women to sooth David's lack of a wedding.

The parties at the Horton's house were fantastic. We got to spend time with old friends and watch the now grown kids play Beatles Guitar Hero among "other activities." I'm hoping Ryan is feeling better soon!

Seeing Matt was wonderful as always. He is so fun and recently also found a serious side ... but don't tell anyone. He took me to Patriot's Place and got me a discount. I got my first-ever, New England Patriots mesh shirt. When I'm around Matt, I just can't help but smile and laugh.

Bellingham was fun and frolic and then tears as we pulled out of the driveway and headed to Wilmington to see my family.

We ate very little for breakfast in preparation for an incredible meal in Essex at Woodman's Restaurant. It is the classic or quintessential fried clam palace. Mom, Dad, Kathy, Krista and I indulged in the fried clams, fried scallops, and onion rings. Gorged and stuffed, we wound our way to one of the local beaches on the Atlantic coast near Rockport. The sand there is so different from Hawaii. It is finer and compact. Of course, given that it was October, it was also colder!! We walked a bit and I took some pictures. The air was crisp, dry (despite the clouds) and fresh, it cleared out my lungs and felt very good.

We relaxed with Mom and Dad and slept soundly on the pull out couch. Nana and Grampa were thrilled to see Krista and it was too soon and she was on a flight back to Oahu. It's amazing how much she has grown in just a few short years.

We had food and more food as the Clearys (and Mannings!) gathered for authentic home made lasagna. It is always great to see my nephews. We played some ping pong and I lost ... someone must have gotten lucky! Jeanne was a whirlwind cooking this and cleaning that. Mom held court and revelled in having most of the family around her. Dad was Dad, offering me a beer or scotch and always seeing to my needs.

You can see my lovely bride charming the locals at dinner.

The ride through Connecticut, New York and New Jersey rained and rained. Plans for stopping in New York City just to see the big town (as compared to Honolulu) disappeared before we entered Connecticut. The drive was made even longer through our anticipation of seeing Tucker, the Berrians and the rest of our friends living in NoVA.

We got to the Berrians and reunited with Krista!

Gary and Ricia are tremendous hosts and have been hosting Tucker for a few months, now. We love them dearly even though they are from New York! I suppose the converse is true for them!

We had a party and invited a few people over the Berrian's house. Old neighbors and friends from work, Church or basketball who have wound their way into our hearts over the years were nice enough to show for laughter and fun. Steve, Waquar, and I shared scotch and attempted to smoke cigars. The cigars were not of high quality (my fault!) so they just smoldered and died. For the best, I guess.

We got to see Di Hanum.

After the party, Ricia and Gary took us over to the Zephania Vineyard where we toured the grounds and tasted some lovely wine.

Tucker seems very happy back in NoVA. He was kind enough to spend time with us and I drank in every moment.

All too soon, we were headed to North Carolina to see Kathy's family. The drive there was much better as it finally stopped raining. Below is a picture of Donna(Kathy's sister)'s house. Keith and crew did a great job on adding the deck and the view from across the pond is breathtaking.

We made Brunswick stew in Donna's garage. This is a fantastic meal that I've always enjoyed right back to when I was 20 and able to eat without worrying about gaining weight! Everyone pitched in either putting more meat or more veggies or stirring the pot. These two photogenic models were there just about all day stirring and stirring the pot.

In the end, the Brunswick stew was tasty and filling. I ate it for dinner for 3 days straight!

Logan enjoyed a ride on Great Grampa's Green Machine.

We got to see the cows and the calves frolic in the hay.

It was wonderful to see Cindy, Donna, Rich, Keith, Susan, Mom and Dad and the list goes on and on but before we seemed to blink an eye ... we were back on an airplane bound for Oahu.

We slept a lot and read a little on the plane back. We flew passed Waikiki Beach and the hotels. The mountains in the back didn't seem so crowded anymore. The island didn't seem so restricting. The sun shined and the air was moist but warm.

The places I've called home are the places I've lived or visited where friends and family still greet me with a warm hug and a bright smile. With Kathy at my side I am always home.

Peace!

Johnny-Jack

Severance and the Squall

Joy and suffering is all in the context of life. One, very often defines the other. For some of my friends and acquaintances, a goal is to live life looking for joy or to live life avoiding suffering. With context comes understanding. My history defines me but I define how I perceive my history. In such a way, I define that I have had many joyful moments that might be perceived as suffering by another. Conversely, I have had many suffering moments that might be perceived as joyful by another. I’ve found that it is better to live now and decide later whether I was with joy or with suffering.

Sailing can provide moments of fear and exhilaration. Often, it is difficult to discern who will feel what from the same event. Heeling over at 30 degrees with the wind whipping past your ears might generate fear in one person and generate exhilaration in another. On my boats, I’ve been afraid and I’ve been exhilarated. My fears are generally not about personal injury but instead, they are about control. Driving my boat into the muck and silt of Chesapeake Bay and requiring help to get unstuck provides me that kernel of fear that builds to a terror. It all stems from being out of control. Once recognized, the fear and anxiety subsides, my heart rate returns to normal and I accept the situation. I remind myself that the notion that I ever was in control is only a joke. Then I can relax.


The same series of thoughts flash through my mind when I’m in a crisis situation. I feel the fear, I recognize it for what it is, and the fear dissipates like water draining from the sink. Calm and peace return though the initiating situation may still exist.

I owned Severance for all too brief a time. I didn’t recognize the joy of that boat until she was gone; so clichéd but true. We had many experiences together and I bonded with her like no other boat in my life. Those bonds started on my first sail, strengthened through the friends that joined me, and could not be broken even when I took pictures of her on the hard in preparation for sale. With many experiences in such a short time, there is a day with her that I should never forget. This is the story of that day.


Often, I sailed with a variety of crew, never really knowing their capabilities or skills. There were days when I wanted to sail alone and days when I needed company. My wife, Kathy, was never fond of me sailing alone. She saw it as dangerous while I saw it as bliss. Rather than have her worry, I offered the opportunity to sail to my cohorts at work. Sharing pictures of Severance, hearing the tales of my adventures easily led to invitations readily accepted. The office incubated my rookie crews.

I invited 5 people for Friday but in the end, only three could get time off or wanted to take a vacation day. The night before, I verified the wind and weather at Thomas Point Light (TPLM2) observatory. Sunny day, the wind was predicted at 12 – 14 knots with a potential for thunderstorms in the late afternoon. The forecast was the same in the morning. It is the same throughout most of the summer on Chesapeake Bay. I sailed a forecast like this hundreds of times.


Leaving from Northern Virginia, I met Nick at Starbucks, got my coffee and we headed east toward Wasfi’s condominium. He folded his long legs into the backseat with a sleepy grin and then fell asleep within five minutes of leaving his parking lot.

Fighting through the Washington DC traffic, we got to the marina around 8:30 am. Norman rounded out our crew and was a little late. We took turns teasing him. The mood was light as I brought them down to Severance. I grabbed a dock line and pulled her over to the edge.
She gleamed in the early morning light. At 33 feet, she was the perfect bay boat. Her fiberglass hull was a radiant white with hunter green highlights, green sail covers and white dodger and bimini. Built in 1983, she was a solid and beamy boat that had no problem with the waves of Chesapeake Bay. I had recently waxed her hull and at over 20 years old, she still looked gorgeous.


I made them comfortable by giving them tasks. Get the ice and the food in the cooler. Take the sail cover off the main sail. Get safety seat cushions from down below. Get the cockpit cushions from down below. Through this they began to learn the basic terms such as cockpit, boom, galley, fore, aft, starboard, port, sheet, mainsail, jib and more.
While they scurried about, I started Severance’s diesel engine. It kicked a little black smoke and I heard her throaty purr. That was her start; a tiny puff of black smoke and then smooth and soft purring.

She’d been mine for only five weeks and the boat inspection showed that her steering linkages could be tightened and that the engine oil could be changed. These work activities had been planned several times but each time I got near her, I just had to sail her! Neither issue was critical according to the inspector but he termed it “necessary maintenance”.

With the food stowed away, I took my three guests on a tour of Severance including what to hold on to and how to use the marine head. While doing so, I inquired about their experience.

Wasfi had never sailed and limited boating experience. He put his bottle of rum, which he thought apropos of a sailing adventure, in the cooler with the Coca-Cola. His bright and broad smile played across his face as he explained that Rum and Cokes would be for later.
Nick sailed once before and had some motorboat experience many years earlier. Norman’s resume included sailing small boat, 19 feet and under, many years earlier.

By 9:30, with the dock lines tossed aside, we slowly motored out of the marina winding our way along Tracey’s Creek out to Herring Bay. I slowed to 2 knots in a light breeze and gave Norman the wheel.


“Keep her straight into the wind,” I called while climbing on the cabin top to the main sail.

Wasfi, Nick and I released the main sail and I guided them in cranking the winch to get the main to the top of the mast. The light flapping of the main in a gentle breeze always gets me flush with anticipation. We ambled back to the cockpit and Norman gave the controls back to me rather quickly. Apparently, he’d been nervous behind the wheel.


A moment or two later, we had the roller furling jib fully extended and I killed the engine. Quiet enveloped us. A few birds called out in the distance and small waves lapped the side of Severance. Suddenly, we were able to hear each other and the wonders of the bay around us.
The wind was from the west-southwest, perfect for a tack heading south. A light breeze stirred up and filled the jib and then the main. The gulls passed overhead, we heeled slightly and picked up speed.

In my sailing life, I have loved that feel of the sailboat surging forward as the wind builds in the sails. I relaxed and sat back giving guidance to the crew on adjusting the jib sheet or the main sheet or the wheel to capture the most out of the 10 knots we had. We eased along gently around the marker by Herrington Harbour South and headed out toward Chesapeake Bay.


With our new point of sail, the wind was now just aft of our starboard beam giving us an easy broad reach. The wind increased as we cleared the murky point of Herring Bay. Severance galloped to 6 knots as the wind built to 15 knots. The jib and main filled as she plowed through the 2 foot swells toward Chop Tank River, 8 miles across the bay. I looked around at the crew and each was smiling and then grinning and then laughing. We were sailing while everyone else was working. With wonder across his face, Wasfi stated softly, “How fantastic is this?”

The morning passed as the sun rose higher. The breeze cooled our skin and someone brought out sunscreen. Each took turns tending to the jib, the main, and the wheel. Faster than I could imagine, each was comfortable at all of those stations. The tension slipped from our bones to disappear into the rhythm of the waves.


We talked softly and kidded each other as Severance took us on an undemanding trip across the bay. Work never entered our conversations though we talked and listened intently for hours. Like most things enjoyable, time hurried on without our watchful eyes. The wind seemed to calm as we entered the mouth of Choptank River. A few puffy clouds came and went and I set the sail configuration into a heave-to. She sat in the water slipping sideways at just over a knot. The guys looked at me wondering what was next. Grabbing a 100 foot line and tying a buoyant fender to one end, I tossed it off the back and watched it pay out.

“Who’s going in?” I asked.


Their looks ranged from incredulous to exultant. Norman was most hesitant. Even so, no one jumped overboard. I asked Norman to stay on board until I got back. I dropped the ladder and dove off the stern into the cool brackish water. It was refreshing and I quickly grabbed the 100 foot line. Wasfi joined me soon after. We laughed and joked as the line pulled us along.

I climbed back aboard. Nick was tempted but Norman jumped first finally followed by Nick. Wasfi asked Norman what size fish were in the bay. They laughed and teased. Wasfi and Nick got all the way to the end of the line where they pretended to fall off and cry for help and then grab the fender and pull themselves forward again.


They tired and eventually climbed back aboard Severance. I secured the ladder and pulled in the line stowing it below. Nick and Wasfi made lunch as I looked across the 9 miles we had come since leaving Herring Bay. There hadn’t been any barges or container ships on our way east but as I looked back, I could see a slow stream of barges and ships making their way north to Baltimore Harbor.

We ate a splendid lunch. Wasfi pushed rum and cokes at us and we all declined. Victor and Norman chose beer instead. Normally, I’d have a beer while sailing and if it were a long sail, I might even have two. While Wasfi was on his 3rd rum and coke, I considered an ice cold brew but eventually declined without a concrete reason. It was just a feeling I had.

After cleaning up lunch, we set the sails and the course. The wind had shifted and was coming nose on from the west-northwest, exactly where we needed to go. At 1:30pm, we close hauled, heeled over at 12 degrees and tacked our way toward the bay channel, mindful of the barges, tugs, and container ships.


Severance is a beautiful “Bay Boat” meaning that she takes the short waves well but is not exactly a speedster. The wind increased and she cut through the water at 6 knots but our angle of approach was not very good. With the wind coming right from Herring Bay we were not making very good time getting there. It was not that we were in a rush but it was likely we were going to be close hauled all the way there. This is known as “beating” and the name was fitting as we crashed over and through the waves. Spray splashed up on deck and some of it even joined us in the cockpit.

Around 2:30pm I noted a pretty wooden sloop off to port. 28 feet with the clean lines of an older boat but very well maintained. They were beating into the wind hard with the jib flapping as they tacked. She had low lines and though she was sleek, she wasn’t making much more headway than we were.


The crew was doing fine with the close hauled approach. It felt like we were flying! Severance was heeled over and the rail was buried in the waves as we cruised through each trough. I had the helm and it felt comfortable. The sails were fully extended and filled. The wind was whipping by us at 18 knots. It was the most wind I had been in with Severance. I thought it couldn’t get any more exhilarating than this!

It took work but we were crossing the main channel. There wasn’t much commercial traffic and the only nearby boat was the sloop which stayed 100 yards to port. Wasfi was sleeping right through the increase in wind and the heeling of the boat. He had collapsed on the cabin top right after the lunch as the rum and cokes had their effect. Earlier, we had joked that he might slide off the cabin and into the water. Norman wondered if the splashes would wake him. They didn’t.

I looked west and saw the blue skies turning dark gray. A storm was approaching. It did not take long for the winds to increase to 20 knots. I could see that the water under the storm was getting whipped up. Considering the crew and my new boat, I chose to start the engine and drop the sails. The diesel purred to life. Suddenly I was appreciating that purr even more. I gave the helm to Norman while going forward with Nick to drop the main. Wasfi was still asleep. We stepped around him.

We stood on the cabin top at angles as Severance healed. The rain started when the main was halfway down. The drops were large and cold and bounced on the cabin top. Wasfi awoke slowly and grabbed his towel and rushed back to the cockpit to get under the bimini.


“What can I do?” he asked through sleepy eyes. We all chuckled.
“Get below and secure anything that was left out from lunch. We could be in for a rocky ride,” I replied while ensuring that main was in her lazy jacks.

The wind shifted suddenly and instead of heading into the wind we were broadside. The main was secured only by Nick and I holding on. We quickly lashed the sail ties around the sail and the boom and secured it tightly but the jib was full of wind again and heeling us over. I gripped the shrouds, clinging to stay aboard as Nick hung from the boom. The sudden heel had Norman yelling apologies and I realized that the wind had increased enough that we were yelling to each other. I sent Nick back to the cockpit and he found refuge under the dodger. Wasfi joined him a few moments later. They were out of the rain as it pounded the cabin top, the dodger and the bimini. Norman relinquished the helm to me with unnecessary apology for the sudden heeling.

Severance was back into the wind a few moments later and I loosened the jib enough to take the pressure off the sail. Knowing that it was best to keep Norman, Nick and Wasfi busy, I told them how to winch in the line controlling the roller furling. The sail flapped back and forth and smacked the shrouds several times. Wind was now at 24 knots. “Howling” seemed to be too tame a word to describe the noise level. We were doing all that could be done to secure all lines and sheets on the boat. By the time my explanation was complete, the jib was successfully rolled up at the forestay. These guys were good!

The gage read 26 knots. We were driving directly into the waves and taking them well. The end of the storm was no where in sight. The waves peaked at 4 feet and Severance surged over them without issue. I looked over at the sloop, now 150 yards away. The man on the boat was edging from the cockpit to the bow as the boat pitched through the waves. A woman on the boat was at the tiller. The main had been taken down but now that we were all in the teeth of the storm, their hank on jib was still up. They had waited too long. The jib sheets were flogging the boat out of control. The man edged forward holding onto the handrails and the shrouds as he got struck by the jib sheets.


“Boys, we’ve got to ease on over to them in case they get into trouble. If that guy falls off, we’ve got to be nearby. It means that we’ll be taking the waves on our starboard bow for a while so it might toss us around a bit.” They nodded that they understood.

I turned 25 degrees to port and the waves started smashing our starboard bow. As we cruised down the troughs, they landed on the cabin top spraying the cockpit with the brackish water of the bay. The diesel continued to hum but I thought back to the marine survey and the steering linkage. Was I stressing the linkage? Would it hold?


The sloop was battling the waves well. The woman at the tiller had done a great job of keeping her nose into the wind and the waves. The man was standing at the last shroud and trying to grab the flapping jib over his head. Windspeed was now at 28 knots or 34 miles per hour.

Visibility was getting worse by the moment. Suddenly, the hanks let lose ripping up the jib like a zipper. There was only one hank holding the jib onto the forestay. I thanked the previous owner of Severance for installing a roller furling!


The jib sheets were flailing and slapping all the way back to the cockpit. The woman was ducking the sheets as the flailed overhead. We debated whether the sheets had hit her or not. The man moved onto the forward decking. There was nothing for him to hold on to.

“Shouldn’t he have a life jacket on?” asked Norman.

I just nodded slowly as I watched him stand on a deck that was rising and falling 3 ½ to 4 feet with every wave. I pointed at our horseshoe lifesaver. “If he falls off, I’ll keep the wheel and bring us closer. Norman, you rip that out of its container and point at him. Keep pointing at him until we get close enough and then throw the horseshoe lifesaver to him when I tell you. It has a line attached and we’ll pull him aboard. Wasfi get the 100 foot line and the fender from down below as a backup. Nick, please get the boat hook from the cabin top just in case.”


At the peak of a wave, he jumped. It was a crazy thing to do but it worked. He grabbed onto the sail and pulled the one hank that was left. He unclipped it. The rest of the sail had gaping holes in the edge of the sail.

He threw the sail into the cabin and fell into the cockpit head first. He got up ok and she guided the sloop further south than we wanted to go and I resumed our prior course toward Herring bay and into the wind.


The 28 knot winds were the most I had ever seen while on a sailboat. Severance handled the 4 foot waves well. Though two of the sail ties flew off the main and the sail flopped around some as a result. We suffered no ill effects from the higher winds. We had bounced through the waves and suffered through the rain but overall, we had done well and had been ready to perform a rescue if necessary.

The gray sky cleared leaving bright blue behind it. We scanned the bay to the green trees on the distant shoreline where Herring Bay awaited. Nick was clapping Norman on the back as a congratulatory gesture. The wind speed declined back to 17 knots. Smiles were all around and I barked out as a joke, “Time to get this beast back sailing toward the marina!”


With that, Nick and Wasfi climbed up on the wet deck and untied the rest of the sail ties and raised the main as I steered into the wind. The main flapped a bit. Norman let out the roller furling and pulled in on the jib sheet. I fell off the wind and the sails filled. Severance powered up and I shut down the diesel. She was galloping over the 3 foot waves easily and comfortably at 7 knots. We heeled over and each wave buried the rail. The sun was back out and shining down upon us. Wasfi let out a yell and once again the joys of a galloping sailboat painted smiles on each of our faces.

We cleared the west side of the channel after several tacks. Severance was handling the waves, the wind and the close hauled point of sail well. The crew stood at an angle as we heeled and buried the rail.


“This is a good boat, a really good boat, Jack,” said Norman. He patted me on the back, “she took us through a bad storm and we survived very well.”

We tacked more but were making good progress toward the marina. With our feet up, we settled in as the wind and the boat did the real work. In the distance, the shoreline was a bright green oasis in the sun. A moment later, the emerald green was rapidly disappearing. Three miles away and it went from green to white as if a ghostly sheet had been rolled down across the landscape. It didn’t look good. All of Herring Bay was gone, replaced with a shapeless cloud only inches above the water and we were headed straight for it.

The sloop was well clear of the squall to the south. For us, the winds were more favorable to the north. “Let’s make a run to the north and see if we can use the storm’s wind to get us there!.”


I changed point of sail and the crew adjusted the sails to attempt to out-run the storm by heading north. I hoped that the increased winds would drive us around the storm. I had read about this in a sailing magazine but had never put it into practice. We were now going 8 knots North- Northeast with the wind at 19 knots from the west. Severance was screaming through the building waves. She leapt at the crest and plowed into the trough. It was both exhilarating and scary.

The entire coast was swallowed up and gone from view. The water before us was disappearing as the storm closed in. It was coming much too fast and it was time to call it quits. I turned the wheel over to Norman, started the diesel, and asked him to keep us directly into the wind. I proceeded forward as the wind climbed to 20 knots. The lazy jacks were helpful in getting the sail flaked properly around the boom. It was raining again and larger drops than before. The SPLAT sound they made disappeared with the wind. There were a few here and there on the deck. Soon, a driving rain pounded my head. Wasfi was bringing in the roller furling as sail ties 1 through 4 were applied tightly to the main. We didn’t have time to put on the green sail cover. The rain drops hurt my face even as I shielded it with my hand.


The main was secure and the jib was rolled up tight. The diesel hummed like she normally did and I ambled back to the relative safety of the cockpit. Norman quickly gave up the wheel. I aimed the bow at the incoming waves and Severance climbed over 4+ footers. Waves on the bay are very different from ocean waves. The distance between bay waves is much shorter leaving your boat to bounce from one wave to the other. On the ocean, you can climb up or down a wave. On the bay, you slam from one wave to the other.

The rain increased to a torrent reducing visibility to 20 feet in front of the bow so I sailed via the Raymarine nautical display. Drops danced on the decking as the wind threw the bounces into our faces. My glasses fogged up as the temperatures dropped dramatically. Frothy waves crested and broke onto the deck washing back toward us thankfully flowing out the sea cocks. We were well past the stage of white caps. White foam streamed by like blowing oak leaves in a fall storm.

Wasfi and Nick sat in the forward section of the cockpit under the dodger. Their legs curled underneath them in the fetal position.

“Are you ok?” I asked.
“Fine, really, fine,” replied Nick. “We’re just staying out of the wind and the rain!”

There seemed nothing left to do but survive as the wind intensified. I relayed the numbers as Norman looked on beside me, “24 knots, 26 knots, 30 knots! Winds are higher than the other storm!”


I had to yell to be heard though they were less than 5 feet from me. Nick and Wasfi nodded without much engagement. Their eyes alert but resigned to our situation.

“32 knots!”

Rain blew horizontally and straight into Norman and my faces. The waves that had been cresting were now getting their tops knocked down.


“35 knots! Crap!”

The sting of the rain reddened my face and my glasses no longer were for seeing, they were protecting my eyes. The wind speed stayed steady at 35 knots for several minutes. I had hopes that the worst was over. Certainly we’d made it through the worst! I kept Severance pointed at the waves and attempted to increase the throttle to the maximum but it was already there. My thoughts drifted to Scotty in the engine room of the Star Ship Enterprise … “I’m giving her all she’s got, Captain!”

36 knots popped up on the display. I said nothing. This was incredible. I looked at Norma and shrugged.


“What’s that in miles per hour?” I asked.
“Is it something like 1.15 miles for each knot?” he replied.
It took a minute, “That would be over 41 miles per hour.”
He nodded knowingly.
“What??” Wasfi yelled to be heard.

My face and arms were like pin cushions to the driving pins sent from the sky and each drop found a new place to sting. The GPS had the boat speed reduced from 6 knots down to 1 ½ knots even with full throttle. I was fighting the wind with the wheel. The bow was a high spot on the boat and we were pushed either port or starboard. The heavier the wind, the harder it was to get back on course.


I just shook my head and wiped the rain from my face and glasses more out of habit than usefulness. Some were doubling up. Foam and froth in the wind-flattened-waves streamed past us. I did a visual scan of the boat. How was she holding up? One of the sail ties had let loose and part of the main was flapping but it didn’t look to be a problem. The jib was still rolled up snuggly on the forestay. I looked at Wasfi, he was nervous. Nick was too. Norman chatted about nothing for a moment. Then he said how incredible this storm was and asked if he could do anything to help. There really wasn’t anything to do. We’d already secured everything below and topsides. Safety gear was all around us. Though, I couldn’t see where we were going, we seemed to be in good shape as long we didn’t hit a barge or container ship in the channel.

The steering! I wasn’t worried about the diesel but I was worried about the steering. We were now going ½ knot backwards though Severance had full throttle forward.

“38 knots,” I called out with more calm than I actually felt. When was this going to end?

Severance was occasionally shaking or more correctly, shuddering as a wave rolled along the sides of the hull. When I looked down at the Nav system, I realized we were being pushed back into the channel. There had been freighters there but not many. In looking down at the Nav system, I had taken my concentration away from the wheel. I could feel that we were taking the waves at the forward starboard quarter and not head on. She corkscrewed and slipped down the slope of the wave. I cut back over to straighten her out. I explained to Norman, Nick and Wasfi what I was doing. Actually, I purposefully kept talking to them so they would stay calm. How was I staying calm? Were we in mortal danger? What was the worst that could happen? We could get run over by a multi-ton vessel transporting cars up to Baltimore. Would they see us? Would we show up on their radar? I thought that over and decided that knowing the worst wouldn’t cause me to change my behavior. I got Severance back on course directly into the waves without overcompensating. Norman clapped me on the back but it didn’t make me feel any better.

“39 knots.” The GPS said we were going 1 ½ knots backwards even with full throttle forward.

Keeping her straight into the wind was getting more and more difficult. Again, I worried about Severance’s steering linkage. I thought how I should take some pressure off that linkage. My mind drifted for a moment to what it might look like below my feet where the linkage was housed. I imagined a cable, frayed to the edges and on the verge of breaking.

“We need to turn around,” I commented quietly. “We need to turn around and when we do, the side of the boat, the hull, will act like a sail and heel us over. So, be prepared and expect it.”

It was the best I could say. It seemed the right thing to do. Wasfi nodded and Nick affirmed that he understood. Protected by the dodger, they were pretty dry while Norman and I were soaked to the bone. I cleaned my glasses off again.

“What can I do to help?” asked Norman.
“Nothing that I can think of,” I responded.

Waves kept coming. The crests were further apart and nearing 5 feet. The tops were curling and crashing on the bow. The roar from the waves and the rain was deafening. I timed the turn through 3 waves to get the sense of the top of the wave. I really didn’t want to be broadside when the wave hit us. I looked at the transom and wondered about the waves hitting us from behind but then put that thought away. My mind was made up.

As Severance climbed up the next wave, I readied myself to turn the wheel. Near the top, I cut her over. She turned toward port and the wind caught the bow. It helped push us around at the top. We started our slide down the side of the wave and we heeled over. It was as if we had full sails up. Nick and Wasfi grabbed hold of the dodger. Nick slid down toward Wasfi. Norman gripped the stainless steel railings.

She was hard over but had stopped turning. We had lost momentum. Stuck! I looked to starboard to see the next wave preparing to crash down upon the deck. There was a litany of thoughts passing through my mind and I worked hard to flush all the negative ones. Time was passing and I didn’t know what I needed to do to get her to keep turning.

She was sliding sideways down the wave. Lots of ideas went through my head. Somehow I felt safe though I should not have felt that way. We were tilted at more than 25 degrees and sliding toward a wave that would crest over my gunnels and pour into my cabin and sink my boat! Why didn’t I put up the cabin rib doors? I forced the negative thoughts out again and took a breath. The wave crested and roared hitting the side of the boat pushing us further over. The low side of the boat was in the trough and the rail was 10 inches under. It felt like we were going over on our side. If water filled the cabin, my beautiful boat could sink!

I stepped up on the seat to maintain my balance. What the hell was going on? I took a breath and focus returned. We were stalled just like we were heave to. The water was no longer traveling along the rudder making it useless.


It was all instinct. I straightened out the wheel and felt the propeller bite and give us forward movement. She only needed a little. I cut her over again, her keel righted us and we turned just in time to take the next wave at our stern.

Wasfi yelled in triumph, “You – are - DA - MAN, JACK!”
Norman slapped my back and Nick nodded with a broad smile across his face. It felt good and I suppressed a smile. But we weren’t out of danger yet.


With the wind and rain at our backs, Wasfi and Nick started getting soaked underneath the dodger. With the mood lightened, Norman enjoyed making light of their attempts to shield themselves from the pounding that he and I had somehow gotten used to.

We had been going 1 ½ knots backwards, now we were going 8 knots forward but in the wrong direction which was west across the bay channel. I looked at the nav system and we were headed straight for Poplar Island. If we didn’t veer south, we’d run out of water in 15 minutes.

So far, the storm had lasted 30 minutes. Would it last another 15? I adjusted course slowly. I considered hailing nearby vessels of our position but we were already across the channel.
Carefully, I shifted into neutral and then into reverse. Full power but we only slowed to 6 knots forward. Full reverse and we were still going 6 knots forward! Announcing this to the crew resulted in shocked looks all around. The wind speed climbed again.


“41 knots,” I called out. The ride was smoother because the waves were now flat and at our backs. Thick rain drops assailed our skin us and we still couldn’t see more than 10 feet beyond the bow. More frothy water streamed by us.

“44 knots,” I yelled to no one in particular. I wondered aloud how fast that was in miles per hour.

After a moment, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know. Considering our boat speed was 6 knots and the apparent wind speed was 44, it made sense that the actual wind speed was 50 knots. I mentioned this to Norman. He nodded. We were both worried. When would this end?
Specks of green leaves dotted the deck and cockpit. Shredded and carried to us from six miles away, they gave a snow like quality to our surroundings. Were we in a tornado? I looked for swirling winds but there was no visibility of anything!


My angling south was buying us time. Without it, we would have been running aground of Poplar Island. I calculated landfall again but I was running out of things to do about it. At some point in time, I would have to turn around again to face the wind to at least slow us down.

I could see that Nick and Wasfi’s faces were red from the rain abusing their faces. Norman did some calculations. “Forty-four knots would be about 50 mph but if we are going 50 knots then,” he thought a bit. “Then the wind is 57 or more mph! That’s a hurricane, isn’t it?”


I didn’t know what to say. We were running out of water. Landfall was approaching rapidly. The floor was shaking from the diesel at such high revolutions. We couldn’t see and I could only hope that the multi-ton cargo ships were still in the channel somewhere. I wondered how I’d get Severance off the muck if we were to run aground. Had I paid up my Towboat insurance? Should I call out to the cargo ships to let them know where we were?

The rain stopped. The sun came out. Puffy clouds were to the north, south and west of us as if nothing had happened. Wind speed dropped dramatically down to 20 knots and then steady at 16 knots. To the east was a dark, black and green storm speeding away from us.
We were quiet. I realized that I was holding my breath.


I looked at Nick and Wasfi who were shivering, cold and wet. “Ready to come about?” I shouted out.
“READY!” called out Wasfi and Nick.
I slowed the diesel, shifted into forward and cut the wheel. Severance turned easily and left a hole in the water.

“Who’s ready for a rum and coke?” cried Wasfi to a chorus of laughs.

We set the sails and enjoyed a straight beam reach back across the bay. Severance galloped along at more than 6 knots. It didn’t take too long to round the mark and head into the marina. The crew had become experts at taking in the sails as I fired up the diesel to maneuver around the marina docks.


Severance sat secure at her dock. I locked the cabin ribs into place and landed the leap from sailboat to wooden dock. It was good to be on solid ground again. We stood at the top of the hill looking over the marina and the bay. There was no evidence of any storm. It seemed so unreal.

The car ride home was quiet and I was glad. For some reason, I didn’t want to talk about the storm. Wasfi slept again and Nick gazed out the window in quiet contemplation.

After a while, “I want a sailboat,” Nick whispered.
“Really? After that experience?”
“Definitely,” he said with steel in his eyes. “I think it would be fantastic.”

The world had just given birth to another sailor who, despite trepidation of what might be, leaves the shore for parts unknown.

A Most Active Crew

Donna, Preston, Gilliam and Rich came to visit a week ago. They get the prize! They are the most active crew to visit us so far. Wow, these folks were up at the crack of dawn even after they adjusted to the time zone. I think the 2nd or 3rd day they were here they raced down and up a muddy trail as part of the Hawaiian Ultra Runing Team ... yeah, that spells HURT! Would you do that? I wouldn't, but they did. They came back muddy and worn out ... ok, almost worn out as it seemed like they were up and doing something else that very afternoon.

After much effort, we got them to relax a little and go to the beach. Below is Rich coming out of the water and Donna is reading.




We climbed the ridge behind the house and then they climbed it several more times! The boys climbed up Shark's Tooth as well. It was windy up there. In the distance in the picture below, you can see our destination.

Donna grips on to Rich to ensure she doesn't fall off.

Each night, I'd come home from work and be enthralled with their descriptions of their day. Hiking here or the Arizona there. Then we'd play MarioCart or the Wii or a board game. Rich was generally asleep by 8:30 ...

On Saturday, we went to what is fast becoming my favorite Oahu hike, Palolo Valley. We hiked 5 of the 7 waterfalls and they were flowing nicely. Below Preston uses a rope to make his way down a cascading waterfall.

Donna edges her way to the base of the waterfall.

Preston takes Gilliam's picture as he wades acroos the pool of the 2nd waterfall.

Preston and Gilliam start up the first set of cascading waterfalls.

Rich brought to light a new term for me ... scurry! The sisters have always moved fast but the term scurry really covers what they do. To see them in a kitchen is like watching chipmunks scurry about. I'll certainly use that term when Cindy comes to visit in a few weeks.

Below, they ham it up by the palm trees.

It was a great visit and always great to see family. Donna also wins the prize as our first "return visitor" ... not that we were counting but she was! We were very happy to have her and the family come out ... you too Rich!

Ko'olina Mariott Resort

Ahhhh. that is about all I can say as I think back to the glorious weekend at the Ko'olina resort beach hotel. I still feel a sense of peace and luxury as I think of Kathy and my weekend there.

She fooled me. She did it well. We left work together ... for those of you who don't know, Kathy has succumbed to working at Hawaiian Telcom as a temp. So, we left work together on Friday. I had no idea where we were going. She told me to pack as if I were going to Maui or Kauai.

So, we headed into the dreaded H1 West Traffic and I knew we were staying on Oahu as we passed the airport and kept on going ... at 5 miles per hour! It didn't matter as I was with Kathy!

We got there and the valet took the car and the luggage. "Don't worry about the bags, they'll be in your room in no time" stated the valet. At the desk, Kathy took command and upgraded the room from mountain view to ocean view and then she smiled at me.

We walked into the room on the 5th floor and though it was a beautiful room overlooking the ocean. Unfortunately, it had not been cleaned. There were cups and dishes and the bed was not made. I took over and called the desk. They upgraded us again. Now, in an even bigger room with a bathroom the size of a normal hotel room, we looked out onto the Pacific facing west from our 11th floor balcony.

Dinner was incredible. We ate a delicious meal with excellent service. After, we strolled the grounds in the twilight and enjoyed the waterfalls, the ponds, and the walkways. Small hammerhead sharks swam below us at one point and large sting rays at another.

I enjoyed a scotch from room service as we went to bed looking out at the stars just relaxing with each other. What could be better?

I really wanted to just sleep in on Saturday but Kathy had other ideas. She set the alarm and awoke me early. We drove to a marina about 20 minutes away. As we drove, we could see whales swimming by in the bay. They were large, black whales spouting and showing their tails. Soon we were on a motorized catamaran and putting on our snorkel gear! Fairly quickly, we were in the water swimming after dolphins and turtles. The dolphins were wonderful and gracious company. The turtles must have missed Kathy's call as only one came by. He was beautiful but Kathy's ability to call up a turtle has spoiled me!

I truly enjoyed my time on the water. I just can't imagine living in the middle of the country where the ocean is not nearby. As I look out from my deck right now, I appreciate the waves that crash upon the shore. For this weekend, water would be the key ingredient.

After a full day on the boat, we were tired. It was exhausting chasing after dolphins! I mean, they just swim much faster than we do. I'd like to see them try to keep up with us on land!

Showered and shaved and waiting for Kathy, I relaxed on our balcony and realized that the finish line for a spinnaker fleet sailboat race was just concluding. It was an exciting race as big boats were angling for the finish line. What could be more perfect?

We got back in time to see two weddings from our balcony. I was amazed at the forethought as all the children of one wedding were dressed alike. It didn't take long to realize that the entire wedding was a "black and white" wedding ... the kids were really cute.

Not too much later, Dinner ... made the perfect day complete. We went to the "fancy" restaurant that overlooked the pools of water, the hammerhead sharks, and the waterfalls. A bottle of wine, lobster bisque, Caesar salad, fine seafood, steak, and dessert graced our table. The wait staff were attentive and willing to help at any moment. I could not have asked or expected more.

Very full and satisfied, Kathy and I walked about the grounds again and found our way to the natural pools connected to the Pacific Ocean. The moon was a sliver and we held hands along the rocks admiring the roar of the ocean as it crashed only 20 feet from us. The sun had set and left us a beautiful night.

On Sunday morning I slept in.


Lazily, we dressed for the beach and snorkeling at "Electric Beach." This is a beach that happens to be across the street from an electric power plant. There were lots of people there but under the water was mostly fish and not crowded at all. We made our way out into the warm water. We found beautiful coral, fancy fish, and enjoyed a wonderful underwater swim.

Back at the hotel, we relaxed in the room and slowly packed. I watched another sailboat race and took too many pictures. The hotel had been kind enough to extend our check out time but we actually didn't need it.

Heading home, I recollected how wonderful a weekend it was. I briefly wondered what it cost but put it out of my mind considering the point of money is to eventually use it but use it wisely. For me, the weekend was worth every penny.

Thank you Kathy for my 50th birthday present.