The rudder repair was done within the day, but our trip was over. The undesirable weather we were trying to avoid by leaving Kaneohe on Wednesday had reached the islands now, and is forecast to get steadily worse throughout the week thanks to Hurricane Iselle. Not a good time to set out across the Pacific. It is also hard to think about going right back out and beating northward again, knowing that it would be even more difficult now. The last 48 hours have taken a toll, both mentally and physically.

Waiting for the next weather window was not an option either. We all planned some flexibility in our schedules for this trip, but not enough for this.

This crew will be flying home, and Transit will either be shipped or delivered by another crew. It's unfulfilling having to fly home and leave the boat in Hawaii. Rick still has to get the boat home, and Charlie and Andreas didn't get the ocean crossing they signed up for. On the other hand, there have been a lot of miles and trials at sea lately. Maybe it's best not to press my luck.

By daybreak, we had crossed the channel. The seas were calmer and the wind down around 12 kts, so we hooked up the wind vane again (now named Princess Yaw for its tendency to allow the boat to yaw through 50 degrees before correcting) and started heading west toward Honolulu.

The approach into the Keehi harbor was going to be tricky. The wind vane doesn't offer fine enough control, so we tried steering with Vise Grips clamped onto the rudder linkage. Andreas found it easier to steer by putting his foot on the rudder head, so that's what we did. It was a little dicey entering like this when there were big surf breaks on either side of the channel, but other than that there was no drama. We made it all the way to the dock like this, where Rick and Keehi Marine staff were ready to catch us.

Just when we had gotten used to our hobbled, tillerless condition, a new hurdle presented itself. We had to transit the infamous Molokai Channel to get to Honolulu, and we were sailing into it at night.

Luckily we were in cell range, making it easy to check wind and wave forecasts. All looked good. In fact the forecast showed conditions in the channel being the same or better than where we were. We had been in contact with the Coast Guard since the tiller broke, so I called to let them know our plans and ask about crossing the channel. With a thumbs-up from the Coast Guard, we proceeded cautiously with a triple-reefed main and reefed, back-winded jib.

The wind never got above 20 kts, but the seas were big. After a few hours of this, we had more than enough excitement for the day. We were sleep-deprived and in a good position to crank the rudder hard-over with the Vise-Grips and heave-to until daylight. Then we slept in shifts as we drifted south toward our line of approach on the leeward side of Oahu.

Kaneohe Bay is a great place to be, but Honolulu has the marine industry to get things done like repairs to our tiller linkage. So that's where we are headed. The tillerless trip so far has been surprisingly mellow. We hooked up the barely-tested windvane steering that connects directly to the rudder and it's been keeping us relatively straight. Good thing, too, because we would be standing on the swim step steering with the emergency rudder all day otherwise.

Andreas and Charlie has been good sports and great companions through all this. Yesterday was Charlie's birthday and it seemed very happy to be spending it staying up all night, stuck out in the ocean on a crippled sailboat with two guys he just met. Happy birthday Charlie!

Less than a full day out of the gate, a weld in the linkage between the tiller and rudder failed. We have a couple of options remaining for steering, neither good enough to continue to San Francisco, but both probably good enough to limp back to Hawaii.

With the crew list settled and Charlie arriving tomorrow, we're getting ready for a Wednesday AM departure. The boat chores are done, fuel and water tanks filled, shopping list made. Tomorrow we'll load the boat with food and be ready to cast off the next morning.

The plan is to head NNE for several days, getting clear of the islands before the tropical depression arrives from the south later in the week.

Skipper Rick will be flying back instead of sailing, so we all started calling our network of sailing friends to see if we could find someone on short notice who had the skill and the will to sail Transit back across the Pacific. Luckily we found one--a friend-of-a-friend from the Bay Area Multihull Association named Charlie Jeremias. Welcome Charlie! I'm sure we'll all be first-hand friends soon.

Kaneohe Yacht Club puts on quite a party. The awards dinner was really nicely done, but the pig roast the night before was absolutely huge. It seems like half of Oahu was there.

We arrived early at the awards to stake out the multihull section for our crew and Humdinger's. Rick and I met while crewing on Humdinger, so it was a little like a family reunion.

Transit of Venus will be sailing back to San Francisco soon. Rick and I will be aboard along with delivery crew Andreas, so we'll continue to update the blog during the return trip.

Finished. We're all looking forward to a shower, a good meal, and some down time.

Looking back, it's been a roller-coaster ride of expectations. At first, our goal was to be the first multihull to do the Pacific Cup. Then we found out that another trimaran was doing the race, so our goal expanded to also win the multihull class now that there was some competition. When we found ourselves in sixth place overall, going fast, and strategically well-positioned, we were gunning for a top-ten, or maybe a podium finish.

And then it all started to unravel. Our chance of a class win was dashed along with any hope of a top-ten finish. All we had left was to be the first multi to finish. At least we could still have that, and we would be the first multi EVER to finish--a sort of perpetual trophy of bragging rights.

In the end, that's exactly what we came away with. Nothing more, nothing less.

We are now less than 100 miles from the finish and acknowledging our "last of" rituals: the last midnight to 3AM watch, the last morning position report, the last roll of TP being put on the spool. Provisioning for the trip was spot-on. We ran two days longer than expected. We had enough to eat and drink, but no more than necessary. After today, there won't be much that's edible remaining on the boat.

Our ETA across the finish line is around noon, and we're glad to be arriving in the daylight. The entrance to Kaneohe is shallow and has a tricky approach--not a great thing to be doing in the dark when you're sleep deprived and generally worn out from 12 days of round-the-clock sailing.

Everyone is looking forward to doing laundry. Everything is so salt-encrusted from the constant douching-and-drying cycles that it never really feels dry anymore. I'm sure we will all appreciate a good night's sleep in a dry, stationary bed too.

Now that we are solidly into the tradewinds, we also have the large following seas built up by the tradewinds. They come in sets where a few biggies will roll through occasionally. Last night we had some probably upwards of 12 feet, which made for some exciting surfing. Imagine driving the boat, having a big wave roll under the stern and come up in front of the bow, then fall away to reveal a huge drop in front of you. It's like standing at the top of a double-diamond ski run when someone pushes you from behind.

We were monitoring a problem with the system that holds the daggerboard down. Without it, the boat spins out of control and it's not good. Rick was telling us a horror story about a similar boat that capsized when they lost their daggerboard. Last night the board started to retract into its case, so we had all hands on deck fixing that. Shims were wedged into the case to prevent it from retracting any farther. We also dropped the mainsail since we had plenty of wind already. Using only a foresail keeps the bow pointed downwind where we want it.

Problem solved. Now we're moving along nicely again with just the small spinnaker. The boat feels unususally heavy and powerful--like a freight train.

We're on the home stretch now...for the next 600 miles. The forecast for this stretch of the tradewinds is a steady 15 kts from astern, so we'll be putting in the miles from here until Kaneohe.

Our food supply should be just about right, and it's a good thing the weather is steady from here on. Otherwise we would be eating canned corn with olive oil and peanut butter.

The sunsets are beautiful, but it is hard on the eyes driving the boat straight into the sun in the evenings. We're averaging 10 kts through the water, but because we're sailing at angles to the wind and gybing, our straight-line speed is closer to 8 kts. That should have us finishing Wednesday morning.

We escaped the low pressure system and the light winds that came with it--finally. Now we're charging along in damage-control mode, not super fast, but fast enough to make some small gains on the competition.

Things went from bad to worse during the night. We were going 6-7 kts with the big spinnaker, just barely keeping it full. When that didn't work any more we switched to the big reacher and went back to sailing on our own headwind. At this stage of the race it feels similar to when people in dire circumstances start drinking their own urine. This boat does 2 kts on just wave motion though, so every little bit is noticeable. We're ghosting along at 4 kts now on wind that's barely perceptible.

Expectations are now scaled back from a top 10 finish and class win, to a class win, to crossing the finish line on front of Humdinger. Humdinger is the other trimaran, and even though we owe them something like 27 hours on handicap, at least we can still claim first-multihull-to-finish the Pac Cup if we can pull that off. Now even that will be difficult.

We've now been on starboard tack for five days. The weather is definitely more tropical and the water is a deep, clear, cobalt blue. Like Tidy Bowl, as Paul says :|

We're waiting on this morning's position reports, but our expectations are low. Typically, the race strategy is to go south, traveling extra distance for the assurance of reliably good wind, or take a weather gamble on the shorter straight-line course. This year hasn't worked out that way. In fact the boats who sailed the straight-line course might have had the best wind.

Until then, we're trundling along at 8 kts trying to minimize our losses until we escape the low pressure trough to our east.

It has not been a good day on Transit of Venus, as expected. The position report has us in 16th place, which is not as bad as we feared. However, we've been bobbing around all morning and afternoon in near-windless conditions. The poor mileage is going to hurt.

Traditionally boats celebrate the halfway mark of the race. The tricky bit is figuring out where halfway is because no one sails between SF and Hawaii in a straight line. You can guesstimate based on the route so far, you can use the metric from the daily position reports of straight-line distance remaining to the finish, or figure your "distance made good" by translating your position onto the straight-line course. We're using the daily position report method which means we're actually more than halfway along.

Anyway, enough synaptic wind. It's a good day for the party since we're stuck in the doldrums here and delirium is starting to set in. Should make things interesting ;)

Another disappointing day, even before seeing the position report. Yesterday's report showed gains by a group we thought to be badly positioned WRT the wind forecast, but they ended up making big gains instead. To make matters worse for us, a low pressure trough to our east reached out and touched us. We were ghosting along in 5-8 kts of wind last night, struggling to keep the boat moving. Between the wind to the north holding steady and our poor mileage last night, our hopes of finishing well are fading.

Our daily position report shows us dropping back instead of gaining, unfortunately. Now we're back in 11th place again. It's discouraging because, from the weather forecasts, it looked like we were perfectly positioned to benefit while the leaders to our north would not. As it turned out, it was not the leaders who made big gains. We also had good speed almost all day yesterday (265 miles over 24 hours); apparently we weren't the only ones.

We were hit by our first squall during the night. The wind shifted left and built enough to make us reduce sail, then reversed as it passed, leaving us nearly becalmed for awhile. Things returned to normal after about two hours.

Surprises like that tend to boost your awareness, at least temporarily. We spent the rest of the night checking behind us for tall, dark clouds.

We were in good spirits after this morning's position report showed us moving from 11th to 6th place overall. Today was another fast one, so we are hoping to see ourselves doing even better in the standings by tomorrow. Strategically, we are positioned well, being one of the southern-most boats. Wind is usually lighter northward toward the Pacific High, so we expect to stay fast while the northern boats go slower. On the other hand, the farther south you go, the farther you get from the straight-line, shortest-distance path.

Also on our minds is that we're in an unusual boat with different strengths and weaknesses than most of the others. We do best in flat water, sailing across the wind. The leaders will do their best sailing in the downwind leg coming up. We will likely lose a few positions to them as we get into the final few days of the race where the course is straight downwind.

Loving the warmer weather though! The sea boots have been stowed for the remainder of the race.

Exciting to see Transit's big 1300 square-foot spinnaker go up today at sunset. Now we're cooking!

The small kite had us running hard, averaging 14 kts all day, then even it became too much as we got into late afternoon. The wind speed increased and it was just too risky with the lumpy, confused seas. Now we're running under reefed main and jib, only a couple of knots slower but in much better control. Hopefully as we near the tradewinds, the seas will smooth out and we can switch back to the spinnaker.

This morning's position report has us in 11th place overall. We had a hard time getting out of San Francisco, so we're hoping that our position improves with our excellent boat speeds lately.

The big spinnaker got to be too much as conditions became livelier during the night. Rick did his first-ever night driving with a spinnaker--in a rocket of a boat and a huge kite! We were hitting 20-22kt bursts. Jumping right in with both feet ;)


We switched to the smaller spinnaker and had a much more controllable boat--at pretty much the same speed, surprisingly. The last 24 hours will be our best to date, and today could be even better.

The crew is looking forward to getting our first position report today. Until then, we're flying blind with no idea of what route any of the other boats took or how well those decisions paid off.

Transit uses a satellite phone for required check-ins (and occasional blog entries). State of the art for sure, as with just about everything on on this fine boat. But the drawback is we can't listen to other boats give their position reports over the old-school High Freq radio method that is still so common in the fleet. As such, we have no idea of where our competition is. And with the weather so weird it would be nice to know we aren't doing something silly. You at home know better than we do!

It doesn't make sense to risk years of preparation and planning to win the start in a 2000-mile race. (But for the record, we won the start ;)

Both we and Humdinger had fine starts and a nice run westward on this unusual southerly wind. We made good time through most of the first day and night.

Photos from our start

Several multihulls have done the TransPac race from L.A. to Hawaii, which makes you wonder why none have done the Pacific Cup (we'll be changing that!). No doubt it has something to do with being excluded from top trophy honors. This from the Pac Cup sailing instructions:

Trophies and Awards
The Pacific Cup: A bronze cup awarded as a perpetual trophy for overall first-place monohull on corrected time, determined on the basis of DWPHRF ratings.

Why limit it to monohull boats? Probably something along this line of thinking.

Boats in the Pacific Cup are equipped with Yellowbrick transponders that track their position on the course.

Our start isn't until the 10th, but some of the boats are already on their way.
http://paccup.info/track.html

Transit of Venus gets the headline photo for this article on synthetic rigging:

http://www.sailmagazine.com/tech-talk/fiber-rigging-best-choice-multihull

So were actually doing one more (easy) shakedown sail today to familiarize our return crew with the emergency steering setup.

We made it through the final shakedown sail before the Pacific Cup without breaking anything major. It was an uneventful trip down to Half Moon Bay in the daytime, followed by a nighttime trip back up to San Francisco. Winds were northwest, which made the trip south fast and fun and the trip back less so. But we made it. Next stop: Hawaii.

Transit of Venus passed (or nearly passed) a major preparatory milestone for the Pacific Cup: the safety inspection. All went well, just a couple of issues to fix before we get the "all clear" from the race administration.