Just got back from Hawaii. Went sailing there. Capt. Dan's boat, a 1980 Hunter 33. It wasn't exactly Gilligan's cruise. No, this was a four-hour cruise out of Hilo to mingle with the humback whales.
I was visiting daughter Nancy and her family, and I brought her husband, River, and their oldest son, Kua for the adventure. It had been raining since I arrived on Tuesday, March 16, when, on Sunday, we followed Dan's directions and drove down the street behind the Nissan dealer. There were no signs. Nancy had thought Dan said to turn in the driveway with the blue and white lion. We didn't see such an animal. Then we realized he was talking about a blue and white polypropylene "line" hanging from a post.
It was a short distance from the line to the water, where Dan's skiff was hauled up between te lava boulders at low tide. The lava was shiny black in the mist and drizzle.
A lengthy article in the Hilo newspaper, written by Capt. Dan's first mate, had lured us here. It explained a little about Dan's cruising business. When we called, Dan didn't exactly flesh out the picture of either his operation or what we could expect. Communications is not high on his resume, apparently.
Dan loaded us into the dinghy and walked it out past the nearest boulders, through which the tide was sluicing, and then rowed us to his yact.
The closer we got, the less yacht-like it appeared. There was an absence of either paint or varnish on the woodwork. Indeed, the boat appeared to be well-used, to be polite.
But Dan was talkative and friendly, and with the Yanmar diesel thumping away, we motored along the lengthy seawall built to protect Hilo from tsunamis, two of which in 1946 and 1960 killed scores of residents.
Rounding the seawall's tip, we encountered good long swells eight to ten feet high but little wind. Quickly, though, we saw whales a mile ahead, breeching.
We motorsailed out to sea, rising over the swells. Kua, who is 10 and enthusiastic, steered for a while and River did as well. I, with my one good hand, was busy hanging on as the boat rocked.
In short order, we were near several humpbacks. Several had calves by their sides as they arched up toward the surface, their breath gusting out of their blow holes. Snorting out.
Then the mist intensified, and while Capt. Dan offered us the use of two foul weather jackets, none of us used them -- probably because we already were soggy.
The wind came only once we had retreated back behind the seawall. River handled the helm on two long tacks. and Kua manned the fishing rod that the captain had provided and with which Kua had been trolling most of the afternoon.
In the end, I think both Kua and River were pleased with the experience. Kua said he wanted to bring all his friends back
Looking around the boat, I wasn't certain that I'd want to recommend the experience to others, however. Perhaps I'm a bit of a snob. I didn't like the captain's insistance that every0ne remove their shoes onboard. On Robin, we require people to keep their shoes on to avoid to-jamming injuuries that could cause crew to lurch overboard. And it took him until we were half way out along the seawall to mention things like life vests. And he assured me that there was a vhf radio on board, but in truth I never saw it.
Still, I can now say I have sailed in the Pacific -- if I really must.