Landed safely at Waikiki

Day: 80 Odometer: 2,646M
Position: N21 17.3’ W157 50.5’
Distance from start: 2,108M

RECORDS as running totals
Solo career total in days at launch: 845 now 925
Overall career total in days at launch: 928 now 1,008
Solo career total in miles at launch: 27,595M now 30,241M
Overall career total in miles at launch: 31,083M now 33,729M
==> Ralph Tuijn (NL) leads the last one with 35,635M

Actual distance rowed in miles will append to my existing career totals at launch in solo and overall categories, respectively. To become official, the London based Ocean Rowing Society must adjudicate the supporting GPX files from my chart plotter and YB Tracker.

—-oOo—-

I successfully rowed my rowboat to the Ala Wai Harbor entrance in Waikiki on Friday, September the 10th. The challenge was immense, with the winds never letting up and yet never becoming overwhelming on the approach. I just had to steel myself to the thought that I was going to stay on the oars for as long as necessary.

After I sent in my Sep 8 update, I lined my rowboat toward Makapu’u Point. The winds were slowly backing northeasterly, setting the seas toward the Kaiwi Channel between Molokai and Oahu. The forecast for winds was accurate. 

On Friday Sept 9, I was descending southwest in anticipation of a 1.1 knot WNW current that OCENS suggested. Nicolai Maximenko and Jan Hafner at the University of Hawaii who knew the local currents well, warned me that their models which incorporated currents as well, indicated that if I continued I would enter the Kaiwi Channel farther east near Molokai. With the winds turning, I would have been flushed south of Oahu, failing to reach Waikiki. I immediately corrected course aiming a bit north of Makapu’u Point. The backing wind indicated I had to maximize my time on the oars.

After a long day on deck from daybreak until around 01:00 am, I felt that I had established some positional advantage to afford sleep. I set my alarm for 1-hour. My plan was to sleep an hour, wake up to monitor boat’s course then decide whether to nap another hour or to get out to correct course. What woke me up was an immense pressure to pee; the two cups of coffee  that I drank three hours apart that evening just wanted out. It had been four hours sleeping; I had no recollection of hearing the alarm. It turns out that I had just passed out while setting the alarm while laying down, but never had…

I immediately checked my position which was now further south than I would have liked. This meant that I had to row a more westerly course to compensate for my loss of northing. Given the sea state, to achieve about 260T course over ground, I had to keep a heading of about 300T. Heading is where I point my bow and COG is the resulting line on the chart that my boat travels. This brought my boat more abeam to the seas, rolling my boat side to side making rowing action difficult. Had the winds increased another few knots that would have increased the size of wind waves, I would not have been able to keep that heading. Until I made my waypoint near Makapu’u Point, there would be no respite.

I was delayed. I made my waypoint by midday on Friday Sep 10th instead of that morning. There had to be some funneling effect as the seas squeezed into Kaiwi Channel. The boat at one point slowed to a crawl as I rowed. The northeast facing shores of Oahu were redirecting the seas. It didn’t take too long before I started seeing over 2 knots of speed as I directed the boat due SW to pass south of Koko Head. I had 6M to turn the corner. Then my speed over ground began hovering around 2.7-2.9 knots occasionally reaching 3.2.

By late Friday afternoon, my course was westerly toward Diamond Head. The same NE winds which carried me into the Kaiwi Channel, were now rising over the island creating rainfall and drizzle all afternoon on the hills. On the south side where I was, this resulted in strong downdraft which threatened to push me away from land. 

I chose to stay reasonably close to shore in flatter waters as I rowed hard as close to the wind as possible. I cannot have the boat pointing directly at the wind as the bow will fall from one side to the other. It is easier to control the boat if I receive the wind just over my left shoulder. I set the rudder to starboard just enough to have the cabin wall catch the wind, rowing just enough to keep the boat from tacking. There was a sweet spot on the compass to row comfortably, evenly engaging both oars with a leisurely effort. The squalls came in waves occasionally making me worry whether I would be pushed offshore mandating resupply at sea; those were the times my port side oar worked overtime. I was not going to accept a tow from open water. During this whole episode the current wrapping around Oahu carried my boat west at 2.4-2.7 knots.

I was in communication with Waikiki Yacht Club Staff Commodore Michael Roth and NOAA specialist Jennifer McCullough about my ETA at Diamond Head. Michel Swenson, an alumnus of Brussels American High School which I attended for three years, also joined them. 

Michael Roth would later tell me that I was lucky to find fairly flat water near the Diamond Head buoy which normally could receive 10-feet or more breaking waves with southerly swells this time of the year. They met me there with the WYC whaler around sunset. A fleet of sailboats were having their regular Friday night race and said buoy was their windward mark. I fortunately passed by the buoy just as the lead yacht approached and didn’t create an obstacle to the fleet.

When I turned northwest toward the Ala Wai Channel leading to the boat harbor, my speed dropped to under 1-knot. The downdraft from the hills was hindering my progress and I had exited the favorable current.

The Ala Wai Channel is a narrow passage dredged across the corals. The channel has lighted buoys and a set of range markers that yachtsmen can use to stay in the channel. Facing back, I had difficulty using these markers. I was relying on my preplanned course on Navionics app while Michael shouted course corrections to me from the whaler. Long undulating swells were washing across the channel at an angle and roaring on to the reef behind my left shoulder. The wind came in episodes. As we worked our way closer to the harbor entrance, there were times when a swell would pick up my boat and rush me 45 degrees off course toward the corals. I would fight toward mid channel only to be sloshed the other way toward the breakwater protecting the west side of the channel. 

By then sailboats began motoring through having completed their race, also being rushed by the same swells. Some had crews drinking beer in celebration. My slow pace and limited control coupled with their added speed with each swell created an unsafe mix. This was cause for concern with great liability; insurance companies absolutely refuse to write policies for ocean rowboats. I had almost completed the channel; the breakwater flanking the harbor was perhaps 50 meters away when I accepted help from Michael Roth. I had declined his offer of a tow earlier wanting to finish under my own power. I gave them my bowline to short tow me about 500 meters into the harbor then down the fairway to WYC.

By the time we docked my rowboat in her assigned slip, the local time was 21:12, a few hours past sunset on Friday Sep 10th. With wobbly sea legs I had rubbery knees as we walked toward the club’s restaurant. Their kitchen had closed at 22:00. Michel Swenson left me in the company of Michael Moradzadeh before dashing off to find this hungry rower some food that late at night. Out of the choices he offered, I had chosen Vietnamese Pho to rehydrate as well…

Michael Moradzadeh was the Commodore of Corinthian Yacht Club in Tiburon in the Bay Area when they hosted my launch back in 2007. Since then, I twice helped deliver his Santa Cruz 50 yacht OAXACA back from Oahu after they raced it there from California. He has been a friend and a supporter, in fact he introduced me to Michael Roth on this crossing. He was in Waikiki to arrange the return of his yacht to San Francisco. While I was rowing, they had made quick work of the Trans-Pac yacht race from Los Angeles to Oahu. It was a very pleasant surprise to find a familiar face on arrival.

I had no trouble closing my eyes when I returned to my boat. The water was calm inside the marina. Occasional squalls passed overhead bringing winds to clatter a chorus of halyards against the masts around me. Fenders were squeaking as the wind moved the yachts inside their slips. I was going to shower in the morning; I desperately needed my sleep instead now that my boat was docked. I had done my part delivering her to safety once more. I could relax…

Erden