Columbia 43: Hot racing yacht now a comfortable, fast cruiser

Below is a story that I wrote for Good Old Boat Magazine. While it didn't make it into the Magazine, the editor invited me to write a boat review for a Columbia 43. It could not be my own boat so I chose to write about my friend Craig Shaw's beautiful Adios in Portland, Ore. It appeared in the May/June 2019 Good Old Boat issue. Since then I have reviewed two more boats for the magazine.

Encore races to the finish line during the 1971 Transpac race where she won first in Class C

By Brandon Ford

At the height of his career, a new race boat design from the board of William Tripp Jr. was big news in the yachting world. The Columbia 43 is a case in point. Before the first hull was even built in 1969, Columbia had 21 orders in hand for the flush-decked sloop. By the time the first boat was launched, 60 racing skippers put money down for one.

The 43 did not disappoint. It was an immediate racing success winning several major ocean races in the first few years. Encore was first in class and 11th in fleet when she sailed in the 1971 Transpac from San Pedro, Calif., to Honolulu. Another 43, Blue Norther, was the overall winner in the Ocean Racing Class of the Newport to Ensenada Yacht Race. With 539 entries, it was the world's largest ocean race at the time.

One magazine ad touted the big sloop as the "Magnificent Aggressor" in the headline. "This is undoubtedly one of the most aggressively designed ocean racers ever created by the famed naval architect, Bill Tripp.... Classified as light-displacement, the Columbia 43 exhibits the highest sail-area-to-wetted-surface ratio of any of his designs."

At about 23,000 pounds all up, she would be considered a medium displacement sailboat by modern standards, but during the waning years of the Cruising Club of  America (CCA) rating rule she could be considered light. By comparison, a Columbia 50, an earlier Tripp design with nearly the same waterline length and beam, weighs more than half again as much.

Columbia Yachts president Dick Valdez
 discusses a design with Bill Tripp, JR.

Columbia 43s were competitive even after the racing community adopted the International Offshore Rule (IOR) in 1971, replacing the CCA rule the boat was originally designed to compete under. In 1973 Columbia introduced the Mark III, which added six feet to the mast, six inches to the bow and shortened the boom by a foot to give the boat a higher-aspect ratio rig favored by the IOR. The Mark III also had a redesigned keel moving the ballast lower and reducing wetted surface even more.

Columbia ended production of the 43 in 1974 after producing 152 of the boats. They remain popular because of their fine sailing qualities, strong build, and spacious accommodations.

A Columbia 43 graced the cover of the July 1978 issue of Motor Boating & Sailing magazine. In 2013, a Columbia 43, Stumppy J, raced in the Transpac finishing sixth in its class. (The famous Sparkman & Stevens 53-foot yawl Dorade took first in the same class).

The 43's versatile accommodations plan is well laid out for racing, cruising or entertaining. It has a large, efficient galley to port has double sinks near the centerline of the boat and two large ice boxes. The galley is convenient to the cockpit as is the a large U-shaped dinette to starboard. A former owner of a 43 affectionately called the dinette "our Denney's booth." It can easily accommodate six adults.

A step down takes you forward of the small, gun-turret house and under the large flush deck to the main salon. The facing settees convert into four excellent sea berths. Forward of that is a spacious head to starboard with a large, standing chart table and nav station to port. The V-berth in the forward owner's cabin is large enough that one owner put in a queen-size foam mattress with very little trimming. There are two large hanging lockers, one to port the other to starboard.

The arrangement is roomy and open with lots of headroom (6'4" throughout most the cabin) and it puts four good sea berths in the middle of the boat. The stand-up chart table across from the head has plenty of room for charts and electronics.

The standard boat carried 48 gallons of fuel and 50 gallons of water, but many boats were ordered with the option to double that capacity.

One of the most outstanding features of the boat is its 10-foot long cockpit. It's big, but not too big. Comfortable, dry and secure, it is easy to grind the winches when racing, or snuggle in for a night watch. At anchor, the cockpit can easily accommodate eight people if they are friendly. "This is the greatest cockpit of any boat I've ever been on," said a former owner who lived aboard his boat for 13 years while working in the marine wholesale business.

Columbia built  about a third of the 152 Columbia 43s at its yard in Portsmouth, Va., and the rest in the Costa Mesa, Calif., yard. The longevity of the hand-laid, pre-oil-crisis fiberglass construction means most are still sailing.

At least one Columbia 43 has circumnavigated the globe and another is most the way round.

Blue Norther a race-winning 43 became a TV star on ABC in her 40s

Blue Norther, the race-winning boat featured in early Columbia magazine ads, became a television star in her 40s. She was the boat Amanda in the TV series Revenge. She appeared in several episodes in the 2012-2013 second season of the ABC television series. There are some nice scenes of her sailing and even some interior shots. In the climactic second-season finale, much of the action takes place on the boat. There is a murder aboard, an explosion, and the boat sinks. The sinking wasn't for real, she still sails on most Saturdays from her slip in Marina del Rey, Calif.

Adios, a 1969 Columbia 43, sails out of Tomahawk Island in Portland, Ore. She has been part of the Shaw family for more than 30 years and is now the home of Craig Shaw. Shaw raced with his father and then as the owner in scores of offshore and local races, including the Pacific Cup races from San Francisco to Hawaii. Dozens of racng awards cover one bulkhead in the boat.

Adios is also a regular in the Baha Haha, a cruising rally that sails from San Diego to the Sea of Cortez every year at the end of October. Photos of Adios and Shaw grace several covers of Latitude 38, the magazine that sponsors the rally. Shaw, who works as a professional yacht rigger, recalls one sail bringing Adios back from 1988 Pacific Cup race. As he headed back home to Oregon, the boat was surfing at speeds up to 15.5 knots under a small headsail only.

To read more about Adios see the May/June 2019 issue of Good Old Boat magazine.

Tranquilo under sail in Aruba.

Tranquilo, a red 43 in Aruba, takes as many as 22 passengers out for day sails; a job it's done almost every day since 1977, first under Mike Hagedoorn and then under his son Anthony. The large flush deck and 10-foot cockpit comfortably handles the passengers on a four-hour snorkel and lunch cruise.

In addition to the Mark I and the Mark III, Columbia also built a Mark II 43 with a centerboard. Even though it was the largest sailing yacht builder of the time with a 35 to 40 percent share of the sailboat auxiliary market, Columbia would customize boats to meet their customer's needs.

Gerry Waterson's Columbia 43 Destiny sailed extensively in the Atlantic and Caribbean
 

Gerry Waterson saw a brand new Columbia 43 at a boat show and thought it would be perfect for his cruising plans -- except for the deep draft. He didn't want the bother of a centerboard, so Waterson drew up a shallow keel with a streamlined bulb on the end. It reduced the draft from 6 feet, 11 inches to 5 feet. Columbia built a boat with the custom keel for him.

Destiny was Waterson's home for more than a decade. He cruised her to Maine, Nova Scotia, England, the Jersey Isles, Canary Islands, Azores, Windward and Leeward Islands, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Virgin Islands, Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, Bermuda, Florida and the Chesapeake Bay. After all those miles he has nothing but praise for the sea-keeping abilities of the Columbia 43.

After sailing our boat, Oceanus, more than 10,000 miles, that was my experience as well. She is well mannered on every point of sail with a comfortable motion that doesn’t wear out the crew. Best of all, she is a fast passage maker. Without pushing hard, we can easily make 160-mile plus days in all but the lightest conditions. Crossing from Mexico to Hawaii with just two crew took 21 days to cover 2,750 miles. That included three days of loafing along under a poled-out genoa, a light reaching staysail and no main in very light winds.

Columbia 43s love the open ocean. Like other owners, we experienced speeds in the low-teens while surfing on reaches and runs. Far from white knuckling it, the boat practically sails herself and always feels under control. On one memorable run from Drake’s Bay, passed San Francisco to Halfmoon Bay, Calif., we averaged 10 knots for more than an hour while surfing on 16-foot waves. The same day saw 22-foot breaking seas across the entire entrance to San Francisco Bay and the Titans of Mavericks big-wave surf competition. Far from “white knuckling it,” everyone aboard Oceanus, except the helmsman, spent the time napping in the mid-winter sunshine.

Serendipity was home to Tom and Karen Gray for 25 years

Like Waterson, the Hagedoorns and the Shaws, many Columbia owners keep their boats for decades even passing them down to their children. Tom and Karen Gray lived aboard their Columbia 43, Serendipity, for 25 years. Their daughter, Samantha, was born after they began living aboard, under, what Karen calls, the "make-your-own-crew plan." Sam grew up cruising the Caribbean and Florida with her parents. After Tom died and Samantha left for college, Karen put their beloved boat up for sale.

The new owner, Leigh Weber, is an experienced sailor. He plans an extensive refit before taking his family cruising in Serendipity. So, another Columbia 43 passes to a new generation. The aggressive racing boat is proving to be a magnificent cruising boat as it passes the half-century mark.

Cast iron keels and keel bolts

Before..

...after sand blasting, epoxy filling and sanding, then three coats of epoxy primer the cast-iron keel of our Columbia 43 is ready for bottom paint. It has a complex and beautiful shape that you could only achieve with a strong, durable materal like iron.

I get a lot of questions about keel bolts. Almost every potential owner and owner of a Columbia 43 worries about them.

I only really know about my boat, a Columbia 43 Mark I, but I think it is like most of Tripp-designed boats Columbia built. They had cast-iron keels attached with galvanized keel bolts. The keel was set in a socket in the fiberglass hull with an industrial adhesive called Furane Epibond, which is still made today.

The keel installation page from the Columbia 43 plan set. Note the beautiful drafting, which was all done by hand. Tripp was a consummate artist.

Here's an interesting paragraph from a 1971 article in Boating Magazine describing in detail how the keel on a Columbia 43 is attached:

"With a 10,250-pound cast iron fin keel hanging on the bottom of the boat, we were interested in the method used to secure same. We found that the keel flange is flushed into a recess or pocket in the hull. Prior to attachment, the keel is given a dry run to check for accurate fit in the recess. If all is not well, the flange is ground to suit--the pocket is never ground except to remove gel coat. When the fit is satisfactory, the recess is coated with a thick application of Furane Epibond, and epoxy compound. With the entire weight of the boat resting on the keel, ten 3/4" diameter cotton-wrapped bolts, nuts, flat washers and lock washers are installed. Internally the keel weight is distributed by a heavy, glassed-in platform and a series of steel transverse channels that pickup the keel bolts. We were convinced that the keel is there to stay."

The article didn't specify that the bolts were galvanized steel, but the plan sheet for attaching the keel does. That's what is on my boat too.

Galvanized bolts were exactly the right thing to use. They start out being 18 percent stronger than the same sized stainless bolt. From there the stainless bolt has nowhere to go but down. I would not trust any stainless bolt more than 10 years old. They can look perfect and yet fail catastrophically with no warning.

Galvanized bolts, on the other hand, retain their strength even when they are rusty. So a 50-year-old galvanized bolt that is 18 percent rusted away is about the same strength as a brand new stainless steel bolt. I won't even get into crevice corrosion in stainless steel. Let's just say a damp bilge provides the perfect environment for crevice corrosion.

If someone, I'm thinking a boat buyer here, looks in a bilge and sees some rusty keel bolts they totally freak out! I've had more than one person tell me that they once considered buying a Columbia 43, but didn't because of the condition of the keel bolts. I also had a C-43 owner bemoan the fact that she almost had her boat sold until the potential buyer looked in the bilge and saw the keel bolts. I told her to get a wire cup for her drill and go to work on them to get the loose rust off them, wipe them down with acetone, prime with a rust converter and then spray paint them white. I hope that was good advice. (While you're at it GET RID of all the old useless wires, pumps and junk in the bilge.)

The keel bolts on the Columbia 43 Mark I were studs and can be backed out (theoretically). I wouldn't do it. I might sister them, but I would not do that either unless the bolts -- all or most of them -- had all but disappeared. I can think of all kinds of things that could go wrong. You could get the new bolts torqued wrong and start a leak, for example. (More about this later.)

The thing is, there are no cases where a Columbia 43 has lost her keel. If there were, we would hear about it. (Think Cheeki Rafiki.) Also, Columbia tested the adhesive system they used on these keels using it alone without any keel bolts. It worked fine, or so the story goes. I don't know if they went back and added keel bolts later or not. Let's just say I trust my 46-year-old keel attachment more than I would most new boats.

Now for the Columbia 43 Mark III: The Mark III was a later development of the original Mark I. One of the biggest changes Columbia made was a smaller keel (same depth, 6'11", but a much shorter chord) to reduce wetted surface. I haven't seen a Mark III out of the water nor have I seen the design drawings. From what I can gather the keel had external lead ballast on a fiberglass keel stub. I don't know what kind of bolts they used. I also don't know who did the redesign, since Bill Tripp (the Columbia 43's designer) was dead before Columbia came out with the Mark III.

One of my friends who has a Mark III in the Sea of Cortez had problems with his where it developed a smile (in boatyard parlance, it's called a "Catalina smile"). It looked like the keel was starting to become detached. He had a yard in Mexico fix it -- I don't know the details -- but so far he's happy with it.

Stumpy J, the Columbia 43 Mark III that competed in the 2013 Transpac and finished 6th in Division 8, the same division that Dorade won that year, also had problems with her keel. When the owner was getting her ready for the race someone recommended that he re-tighten the keel bolts. He did that and it caused leaks that plagued the boat throughout the race and afterward.

That's about all I know about Columbia 43 keels. I believe a lot of the Tripp-designed Columbia's had cast iron keels similar to the 43 Mark I. One notable exception is the Columbia 50, which has lead encapsulated in the fiberglass hull. (This, to me, is the most trouble-free method. I hesitate to say "best" because other things come into play.)

I generally think Columbia 43 boat owners worry a lot about keel bolts because they look bad, not because there is any real danger of losing a keel. Should I be worried? Comment below. You'll have to cite actual examples of keel failures if you want me to pay attention.

Feeling the love on Maui

A big part of Maui's beauty is found underwater, like this green seaturtle or honu'.

Part of what inspired us to go cruising was our first trip to Maui. The island and surrounding sea were even more beautiful than we imagined and the weather was perfect. I almost cried when we had to leave. What really got my juices flowing during that first visit was a cruising boat anchored at a popular snorkel site called Coral Gardens. I imagined us blissfully at anchor, diving into the clear warm water from the deck of our own boat. We could snorkel and dive at one of Maui's prime dive spots anytime we wanted. I started dreaming of sailing to tropical islands when I was 13. Seeing that cruising boat anchored at Coral Gardens brought the dream into sharp focus.

Oceanus anchored off Olowalu just north of Coral Gardens.

Seven years after our first visit, we bought Oceanus and began working on her restoration and refit. We visualized each project bringing us closer to the picture of us anchored off Maui. For the most part, the reality is even better than the dream. Especially now that our diesel mechanic friend helped me fix our engine. He diagnosed the problem right away -- a stuck fuel cut-off valve on our newly-rebuilt fuel injection pump. But fixing it took nearly eight weeks because of his heavy work schedule (he could only help us on his days off), other projects he recommended, and waiting for parts (Maui is like a third-world country in that regard).

The view of the highway tunnel from anchor at Coral Gardens.

Once the engine was fixed, the first place we wanted to go was Coral Gardens. For a couple of days we and our boat provided the inspiration for other people's dreams. While at anchor there, a familiar boat picked up a mooring about 100 yards away. It was the Four Winds II. On our first trip to Maui our big splurge was a snorkel trip to Molokini Crater on Four Winds II. The 55-foot catamaran was under the command of Captain John. It was 10 years since that adventure and Captain Johnisms still pepper our private conversations. We found his patter during the voyage -- especially his "rules" -- hilarious. After each "rule" (like leaving your shirt tag out, no kicking like a bicyclist while snorkeling, or not wiping your nose after taking your mask off ) he would say "no lunch for you." He also cautioned his snorkelers to pay attention and return to Four Winds so they didn't end up on the other snorkel boats, all of which (according to Captain John) only served Spam for lunch.

Four Winds II at Coral Gardens.

We were about to jump in the water ourselves and ended up snorkeling together with the Four Winds II guests. Before heading back to our boat, we told one of the crew what a great time we had 10 years ago and how much we enjoyed Captain John. “He’s aboard today,” he said, “come aboard and say hi.” We were delighted and a little surprised (since he seemed old 10 years ago). We climbed aboard and found Captain John as affable and witty as ever. He didn’t look a day older either. After a visit, we swam back to our boat. A short time later, Four Winds II left their mooring. As they motored past, Captain John coned his hands around his mouth and yelled, “See you in 10 more years.” As beautiful as Maui is, it’s the people who make it special. The locals are friendly and always ready to help. They truly practice aloha.

Pu'u Olai or Red Hill as seen from our anchorage at Big Beach

After we anchored at Big Beach, we went around Pu'u Olai (Red Hill) to check out the snorkeling there. A Pacific Whale Foundation snorkel boat was at a mooring. Virginia hailed them on the VHF to ask if they had any diet pepsi on board. She told them she would swim over with a dollar. Minutes later another Pacific Whale snorkel boat came into the anchorage aiming right for our boat. Over their loudspeaker the captain told us he had a plastic container of Coke for us. They tossed it to us. Everyone listens over channel 16 on the VHF! One of the first times we landed on Kama'ole Beach at Kihei, a local named Steve introduced himself and immediately offered to drive us anywhere we wanted to go. We took him up on a lift to the auto-parts store. He then gave us his phone number so we could call him anytime we needed a ride. Steve is not unusual. In fact, we find that he is the rule, not the exception, among the locals on Maui. Nick is another example. Shortly after we met Steve, we were sitting in our cockpit fretting over our engine troubles when Nick motored up in a small runabout. We talked about our boat and he told us he skippered a large catamaran out of Maalaea Harbor. In fact, he heard the whole Pepsi story on channel 16. We asked him if he knew of any good diesel mechanics on the island and he put us in contact with Keith. Keith proved to be a Godsend. Not only is he a great marine diesel mechanic, he also has a Perkins diesel like ours on his boat. And he's a heck of a nice guy.

The view from our mooring: rainbows to the east...

Sunsets to the west.

To make it convenient for Keith to work on our boat, we sailed from Kihei to Lahaina and anchored near Mala Wharf. Lahaina always figured large in our Hawaiian cruising plans. It looked like the perfect base from which to explore the west side of Maui and the islands of Lanai and Molokai.
A couple of weeks after anchoring off Mala we met Cory, another local. After a short conversation, he offered to rent us his registered mooring for $50 a month, since he just scored a sublease on a slip in the Lahaina Marina for his boat. We jumped at the offer, especially after he said he would put in all new chain, mooring ball and rope. Having a mooring makes it even easier to come and go on our exploring expeditions. We found the roadstead off Mala to be a great place to hang out. It's one of the few places where we can land the dinghy without getting our feet wet. It's a great place to tie up the dinghy too. Water is available and there's a place to dump our garbage and recyclables. It's an easy walk to three different grocery stores, Barnes & Noble, two different pharmacies, a laundromat and our church.

Lahaina's famous Front Street is just a short walk from Mala Wharf.

Lahaina’s famous Front Street -- filled with shops, galleries and restaurants -- is an easy 10-minute walk. Every few weeks we walk down and enjoy the atmosphere. We even found a used book store on Front Street where we replenish our book supply.

Marsha, her dog Fin and grandson Xavier
at the Lahaina Halloween Keiki Parade.

We are also not far from the home of Marsha, a high school classmate and friend, who drives us places and lets us borrow her car when we need it. We feel like part of her family and enjoy the hugs from her three grandchildren. By boat we are close to most of the best snorkel and dive spots. Black Rock is only a few minutes away and the east side of Lanai is only a 1½ hour sail. Not only is it wonderful snorkeling and diving, but it’s it a good place to escape when the Kona winds make our roadstead uncomfortable and dangerous. We haven’t gotten to Molokai yet, but we will soon. Molokai is known as “The Friendly Isle” although the locals there will have their work cut out for them to top those from “The Valley Isle” of Maui.

The Black Rock from the deck of Oceanus.

The West Maui Mountains viewed from aboard Oceanus while underway.

Riding out DARBY in Honomalino Bay

Oceanus anchored in beautiful Honomalino Bay. The bay could easily accommodate six cruising yachts, but we didn't have to share.

If Honomalino Bay were anywhere else in the United States it would be continually overrun with cruising boats. It has clear beautiful warm water, perfect depth and a sandy bottom for holding an anchor, good protection from prevailing wind and waves, great snorkeling, coconut palms, and a black sand beach. Most days there are only a few beach goers. There were a few fishing boats that came into the bay for an hour or two, but for the most part, the eight days we anchored there we had this gem of a bay to ourselves.

Reticulated butterflyfish in Honomalino Bay. 

We really enjoyed the snorkeling here. The number and variety of reef fish are as good as anywhere we've snorkeled. We saw fish we have been searching for in ten years of Hawaiian vacations: reticulated and saddleback butterfly fishes. Our Hawaiian fish identification book call both of them “very rare” in the islands. I also saw another favorite rare fish, the black morph of the long-nose butterfly fish, a fish we've seen in only one other place.

A saddleback butterflyfish; another rare find in Honomalino Bay.

We felt well protected in this bay and we put it to the test. One day, we motored over to the tiny fishing village of Miloli'i to get water. While there, some people Virginia met talked about the tropical storm Darby about to hit the island. “What storm?” she said. “Oh don't worry,” they said. “Hurricanes and storms never come to the west side because of the volcano.”

We were considering leaving the next day to go north, but after checking the weather we decided Honomalino Bay was the best bay all along the west side to ride out the storm. Darby was expected to make landfall on Saturday but we didn't see much wind. In fact we joked around about how vicious the storm was. We should have kept quiet.

That night Darby did what no one thought he would do, he turned left and blew right over the west side of the island. Right over our heads. At one point all was calm and we smiled until we realized the eye of the storm was right over us. Soon the winds picked up again. The winds probably reached only 45 to 50 knots in the bay, but the boat rolled all night so much we couldn't sleep. During the night the dinghy, which I should have hauled up on deck and stowed upside down in it's chocks, turn sideways, filled with water and banged against the side of the boat.

In the morning, the storm was well north of us heading up the Hawaiian chain. Virginia got two or three hours of sleep, by making a nest of settee cushions on the cabin sole. I stayed in the bunk and didn't sleep at all. At 6:30 a.m., our scuba-diving friend, Garry, called us  to check on us. He said he had never seen the winds blow that much on the west side. Darby was only the fifth named storm the hit the island since the government started keeping records in 1949.

Virginia considers the exotic plant life at the beginning of the trail to Miloli'i.

In spite of Darby, we really enjoyed our time here. Garry and his wife Susan really made our stay enjoyable. Gary drove us to the grocery store and, later, gave us 10 gallons of fresh water. They also let us use a house they own and run as a VRBO (Vacation Rental By Owner) so we could wash all our dirty clothes and have a real shower. (There were no guests staying in it that day.) Garry also took us scuba diving a couple of times. These are great people! If you want a wonderful scuba vacation experience, check out their VRBO on the big island.

After our morning snorkel one day, we met a young lady on the beach doing her homework. Like most people, she was curious about how we got around and how we got food. We told her we usually walk, sometimes rented a car or used Uber. She volunteered to be our transportation while were were on the Big Island. We called her Gigi our Uber girl. The arrangement worked perfect; she got money and time to study while we did shopping and laundry and our feet got a nice rest. We also found her to be delightful and interesting company.

Most afternoons and evenings, after any beach goers left, we watched as a small herd of goats came down to the bay. They were black with brown markings around their faces and legs and blended well with the black lava-rock cliffs. We would watch them from the boat. They seemed to be as curious about us as we were about them, especially the kids.

Most mornings a small pod of spinner dolphins visited us.

Four of the mornings we anchored in Honomalino a pod of spinner dolphins visited the bay. We would watch from the deck or jump in a swim with them. One morning when we motored out of the bay in our dinghy to meet Garry for a dive, the boat drew the dolphins like a magnet. They escorted us out of the bay jumping and spinning just a yard or two in front of the dinghy.

In addition to our dinghy, Virginia has a sit-on-the-top kayak. It comes in handy for many tasks, like recovering our stern anchor after the rode parted during Darby. Paddling it around is fun too.

We wanted to stay longer, but we needed to get to a place where we could refill our water tanks. We were also eager to see more of the Kona Coast.

Rounding scarey South Point

Leaving Hilo. You can just make out the observatories on Mauna Loa, the largest volcano on earth.

While we weren't exactly dreading rounding South Point, we were both looking forward to it with trepidation. This passage is infamous for its difficulty because of the strong winds and currents that are usually present. The winds are so consistently strong that the trees grow sideways away from the prevailing winds.

A wind-blown tree at South Point, Ka Lae in Hawaiian.

Virginia watched the weather reports closely and it looked favorable on July 13 so we decided to make a run for it. We wanted to pass the volcano in the dark so we could see the lava flow at night. We figured leaving at around 11 a.m. would be about right. The total passage to Honomalino Bay looked to be about a 23-hours. We decided to do our watch schedule of four-hours on, four-hours off. The wind was almost perfect the minute we got outside the breakwater. Off with the engine and up with the sails.

Smoke and steam mark the path of lava down the Kilauea Volcano to the sea.

We always underestimate how fast Oceanus goes. We wanted to be at the Kilauea lava flow after dark, but sailed past late in the afternoon, good for seeing the steam, but not for viewing glowing hot lava. What was beautiful, was the reflection of red from the lava on the underside of the clouds.

The interesting part was the smell. A month earlier, when we were out in the middle of the ocean, we talked about other people's experience of smelling the land before you could see it. We were looking forward to smelling Hawaii because everyone knows how wonderful Hawaii smells. Imagine our disappointment when all we could smell was, what we thought was, petroleum. We never could figure it out until we passed the spewing volcano. There was the smell: an odd petroleum, sulfur-like smell. Lava.

The winds were holding up. We were going about 7 knots and it was pleasant sailing. Virginia had the watch from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., which put her at South Point near the end of her watch. She was a little nervous because of the horror stories, but she said it was the easiest passage ever. In fact at 1 a.m., while approaching the point, she was so bored she considered calling her night shift nurse friends at North Lincoln Hospital in Lincoln City. Then she realized it was 4 a.m. in Oregon—a really busy time for night shift.

She woke me up around 1:30 a.m. because she needed help changing tacks as we rounded the point. I took over since I was already up.

The 14 wind turbines of the Pakini Nui wind generation project on South Point are each topped by a bright red light, which all blink in unison. Those lights, combined with the blinking white light from the Ka Lae (Hawaiian for the point) lighthouse, made for an enjoyable, ever-changing light show and stayed visible from the boat for almost an hour.

The winds got lighter and Oceanus slowed down, which was a good thing since we won't enter a strange anchorage—any anchorage, really—in the dark. The sky was clear and the ocean fairly smooth. In the waning darkness I saw a green navigation light dead ahead. It didn't seem to be moving, but Oceanus' speed was only about 2 knots by this time. I wasn't worried, but I also kept close tabs on the vessel. I figured it was a fishing boat waiting for daybreak. I was right; at first light she began moving and set a course south and out of my path.

Virginia relieved me a short time later. I dropped into my bunk and seemed to fall instantly to sleep. It didn't last long. About an hour later I felt Virginia shake me awake. She had started the engine, which usually gets me on deck as quick as I can pull on my pants, but not this morning. I came on deck groggy as she peppered me with questions. Finally I had to beg for a moment to get my bearings. According to the GPS, we were outside our planned anchorage, but where exactly it was wasn't clear.

Virginia at Honomalino Bay.

We consulted the cruising guide, but still weren't sure. Finally, after searching the shoreline with binoculars, the instructions made sense. We slowly motored past the rocky reefs and carefully felt our way into Honomalino Bay about 7:30 in the morning.

From the bow of the boat I could see the bottom nearly 80 feet below us. By the time we reached a good anchoring depth of 25 feet I could clearly see the ripples in the sand patch in the middle of the bay. We dropped anchor and set it. I slipped on my mask and fins and dove into the clear, warm water to check the anchor, which was buried deep in the sand.

Beautiful palm trees, black sand beach, sandy bottom perfect for holding an anchor, protected from wind and waves: it was a perfect anchorage and we were the only boat and people in sight.

Oceanus anchored in Honomalino Bay.

No crowds during California's winter

Avalon on Catalina Island. The mooring field is starting to fill up for the weekend.

Cruising California in the off season is the bomb. Every place we stop to anchor or tie up not only has room for us, but welcomes us -- sometimes with off-season rates. And the weather is about the same as the Northwest's best summer days; sunny, dry and mid-60s to 70s.

We were only going to stay in Santa Barbara for a couple of days but I caught a cold and we stayed a nearly a week with no problems. We've heard from other cruisers that during the summer, slips in Santa Barbara are hard to get and good luck trying to extend your stay. It is the city's only marina and in a wonderful location, so it's not hard to understand why slips are in demand.

Virginia explores Pelican Bay on Santa Cruz Island. 

The couple who keep their boat in the slip next to us spoke glowingly about the beauties of Santa Cruz Island across the channel from Santa Barbara. They recommended we anchor at Pelican Bay, which is usually crowded during the summer months. We sailed across the channel and found only one other boat with which we had to share this idyllic anchorage.

Beautiful Santa Cruz Island.

We were there for two nights when we heard a weather report of gale-force winds that would hit the island. So we sailed to King Harbor at Redondo Beach. No slips were available, but we spent the night on one of four mooring balls for transient yachts. We were the only boat at the mooring field and there were no boats in the anchorage inside the breakwater. This small marina is a gem, but we didn't have the time or inclination to explore it. Still feeling a little punky from my cold, I didn't want to unlash and launch the dinghy.

Seabirds line the breakwater at sunset on the King Harbor breakwater.

We wished someone had warned us about the mooring balls in California. I'm sure we were great entertainment for people onshore as we tried to figure out why this ball had a funny wand in the water and no way to tie to the top of the ball! The trick is to grab the wand, pull it up on deck and use the pendent attached to it to hoist up the mooring line to loop over the bow cleat. Then you follow another smaller line to a loop you then put on the stern cleat. Important safety tip: wear gloves.

Shoreline Village Marina in Long Beach. The harbor is also known as TransPac Harbor with signs detailing the history of that great yacht race.

The next morning we sailed the short hop to Long Beach and the Shoreline Village Marina. This marina is right in the middle of restaurants, shops, walkways, parks and not far from from the Queen Mary and the Aquarium of The Pacific. (You can read about our visit to the aquarium here.) At night, twinkling lights lit up the businesses and structures in the nearby park. We felt like we were docked in the middle of Main Street Disneyland. We could even see a Ferris wheel from our boat.

We weathered a pretty good storm, with gale-force winds, rain and thunder and felt secure; the boat hardly moved. In the morning the marina was filled with garbage washed down the LA River into Long Beach Harbor. It was pretty grim. Most of it was reeds and branches, but much of it was plastic: water bottles, plastic sacks and wrappers of every description. Single-use plastic is evil. We stayed four nights and by the time we left most of the garbage was cleaned up.

We found the gas dock at marina next door was convenient place to fuel up. Their diesel price was the least expensive we've come across and the attendant was helpful and friendly. He told us stories about other cruisers he'd met including a family of four from France who set off for French Polynesia after buying fuel.

Two Harbors on Catalina Island.

Long Beach is right across the water from Catalina Island so we decided to spend a few days there. As a kid I always wanted to visit Catalina during our vacations to Southern California. Our good friend back in Newport, Chris, also insisted we not miss it.

"Don't go to Avalon" was a phrase we heard often while at Long Beach. "It's crowded, expensive and hard to get a mooring ball." So we decided to stay at Two Harbors. The mooring field at Two Harbors is lovely and deserted in the winter time. We spent two nights... two very rolly expensive nights. At $50 a night, it was more expensive than most marinas. We were glad to leave that harbor.

Oceanus moored in Avalon Harbor with the amazing Casino, which was never used for gambling.

We sailed two hours to Avalon and paid the harbor patrol $84 for two nights. The harbor patrolman said, "our winter special is pay two nights and get the next five free." We like free so we stayed a week on Avalon and loved it. The mooring field was less than half full, it was quiet and we slept well every night. Best of all there is plenty to see and do.

The harborside of Avalon. In the background is the entrance to the walkway to the Casino and the Avalon Yacht Club.

From our mooring we watched people walking along the shops and restaurants that front the harbor. Most of the brick-paved streets near the harbor are pedestrian only and most of the vehicles on the island are propane-powered golf carts. Up the hill from the harbor is a chime tower that struck the hours and each quarter hour from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. On one end of the harbor we could see the monumental Casino building built in the art deco style of the 1930s and at the other end we could watch the ferries come and go from the mainland.

On shore we visited some of the shops, but we really had no interest in most of them. We have everything we could want. We did find a great Ace Hardware store packed with an astonishing selection of practical items. I finally found the perfect nozzle for our hose to replace the one we left on the dock at Newport. I've been looking for the right one in every port since we left. Best of all it cost only $3.

The botanical gardens on Catalina Island.

Each day we did something: visited the botanical gardens; went to the Tuesday night half-price movie so we could see the fantastic theater inside the Casino; rented a golf cart for an hour so we could tour around Avalon in style; walked to fill our propane bottle, and attended church in a meeting room in the U.S. Bank building. Part of the fun was rowing to and from the dinghy dock to get ashore and visiting with the other boaters along the way. The water was so clear we could see the bottom most of the time. We saw a bat ray and several bright orange Garibaldi fish. I spent an enjoyable afternoon snorkeling around the boat cleaning off the grunge from Long Beach Harbor and checking her bottom.

Friday was the last night of our stay in Avalon and the little harbor filled up with yachts including several from a Southern California yacht club having their spring cruise. The main party boat was next door to Oceanus and at one time had eight dinghies tied up to it. The nice thing about yachties is that most of them are older and the party was all but over by 9:30 p.m.

The next day we headed to Dana Point Marina for two days to visit friends. It's a beautiful marina. They were also very accommodating when we needed to change our reservation because we stayed longer than we planned at Avalon.

Then it was on to San Diego. As we came close to the entrance to the bay we saw two islands... two Mexican islands!

Oceanus was one of only three yachts tied up to the Police Dock in San Diego. During the fall this place is packed.

Mast pulpits and propane aboard Oceanus

Our Dickinson propane fireplace warms the boat up nicely on cold Northwet winter days.

Few things make living aboard a boat in the Northwet more comfortable than a fireplace and a good galley stove and oven, especially in the winter. And few things make a trip to the mast safer than mast pulpits. On my boat the two are related.

The oven is large enough for Virginia to make three loaves of her great wheat bread.

The old stove that came with Oceanus ran on propane and looked dangerous. It was not hooked up. When we moved it sawdust and chunks of rust came out of every opening. The oven door had no window and, worse, no way to lock it closed.

Another troubling thing was there was no evidence on Oceanus of a proper propane locker: one that was air tight except for the vent over the side as required by the American Boat and Yacht Council (ABYC) and every good marine surveyor.

The propane locker for Oceanus is a deck box.

My solution was to buy a deck box for Oceanus to use as a propane locker. I chose a Trident Marine L-P Gas 20-pound Dual Chest Locker, (part number 1502-0020). Generally I'm happy with it after I upgraded the regulator. Why they put a cheap, single-stage regulator on an item that cost one whole boat buck... well, it kinda ticks me off. The only other thing we did was put a backing plate on the latch. Those are the bad parts. Otherwise, the box is well made and stout, no oil-canning when I stand on top of it.

The propane deckbox has room for smaller propane cylinders, windlass handle and other odds and ends in addition to the two 20-pound tanks.

I located it a little in front of the mast and bolted it through the deck at each corner using 3/8-inch bolts with big fender washers. I used UHMW plastic shims about an inch thick and slightly tapered to lift it off the crown of the deck. I then used a large hole saw to cut a hole in the bottom and a smaller one to cut a hole through the deck for a plastic through hull. The through hull was big enough that I could fit two hoses -- one for the new Dickenson Newport fire place, the other for the new Dickenson Mediterranean stove and oven -- and a 14-2 wire for the solenoid.

Here's how the propane box and the mast pulpits relate. I bolted one leg of my mast pulpits to the port and starboard sides of the deck box with good backing timbers and fender washers. The mast pulpits each have four legs, so that saved me eight holes in my deck.

Mast pulpits (granny bars) are harder to find than you would expect.

I feel lucky to have these mast pulpits (granny bars). We spent a lot of time looking for mast pulpits for Oceanus. I could find nothing on-line. We regularly checked places like Minnie's and Columbia Marine Exchange for used ones. We even contacted a couple of stainless steel fabricators, but none of them wanted the job.

Then, as I helped a dockmate with a project aboard his boat, I spotted eight stainless steel flanges bolted to his deck. I asked him what they were. "Oh, those go to some mast pulpits that were just too big for the boat," he said. "I took them off because they were always in the way."

He was right, they were too big for his 33-foot boat, but they are perfect for my 43-foot boat. It must be something like, "when the student is ready, the teacher shall appear." When you look long enough and are desperate enough, you will find what you are looking for.

When my dockmate retrieved them from his garage and brought them to the boat I couldn't believe my good luck: they were the most beautiful mast pulpits I ever saw. They had a gentle arc, four feet and a teak pin rail with four belaying pins on each pulpit. The pin rail looks nice and is handy. The mast pulpits also provide a great place to secure the eight polyethylene jerry jugs we carry aboard for fuel and water.

The deck box makes putting on the mains'l cover easy.

The mast pulpits and deck box make working around the mast easier and much more secure. The deck box is a great place to sit and admire the view or to stand on to reach the top of the mains'l when putting on its cover.

Back to propane. Once the deck box was in place with a way into the boat for the hoses and wires the rest was pretty easy. I got some help from my local RV place to tee off the line after the regulator so I could run a hose for both appliances. The tee must be made in the box because ABYC allows no connections inside the boat except to the appliance. Then it was just a matter of running the hoses for the fireplace and the galley stove and connecting the electronic shut off to power the solenoid in the box.

Everything worked well on the first try, except the flow seemed anemic. After looking at the cheap regulator that came with the deck box and comparing it with the ones at the RV place, I figured it must be under sized. Another $35 into the project for a two-stage regulator was chump change. The bigger regulator did the trick.

I can't remember the name and can't find the documentation for it. I remember it's made in Canada.

After doing all you can do to keep propane only where it should be, you still need a bilge sniffer. This warns you if propane is leaking into your bilge and pooling there waiting to blow you and your boat to kingdom come. We found this nice unit that's made in Canada.

A hand-held sniffer is essential.

We also bought a portable combustible gas sniffer to check all connections. Soap suds just doesn't cut it.

For more tips on staying safe with propane here's 10 tips from the good folks at Attainable Adventure Cruising.

On previous boats we had an alcohol stove and a kerosene stove. Virginia was not a fan of either of those fuels. If we were not planning to sail south we might have considered a diesel stove. We are well aware of the potential for explosion from propane, but if you like to cook on board, propane is the best option.

Weather Window Update

We are still waiting for a weather window to open so we can head south. Here are some photos of waves crashing on the rocks in front of a friend's house in Depoe Bay, Ore., this week. Maybe next week....

This wave hit the base of a 40-foot cliff and shot about 80 feet into the air.