In 1976 we took Feather to the coast for a summer of racing. The highlight would be the Galveston to Vera Cruz race. Vera Cruz is 400 nautical miles south of Galveston and the race is scheduled in early July. The typical weather is for a south-southeast breeze in Galveston, so you start hard on the wind on port tack. As you go south, the wind should back and allow you to slowly crack the sheets until you have the chute up for the last day into Vera Cruz. In 1976 the wind was anything but normal. We rounded the jetty at the end of Galveston Island and set the chute. At this point, we felt like we had won the lottery, since the odds of having a north wind on the Texas coast in July are approaching the odds for the lottery.
Navigation challenges
This was before the days of GPS, and we had not been able to get a Loran set for the race. We knew navigation would be a challenge, but the first day of the race helped highlight our challenges. Our plan was to use dead reckoning aided by fixes from a radio direction finder. Within the first couple of hours our knot meter quit working. Dead reckoning involves recording how fast you have been going in what direction to get an idea where you are. Now with no knot meter we didn’t have a way to measure speed. The next thing we noticed was that we had three compasses on board, and no two of them ever agreed within 10 degrees. After discussing possible sources of error, we decided that the hand bearing compass was the best if the user was hanging as far outside the rigging as possible. The radio direction finder gave us a good bearing back to the end of Galveston Island for the first day, so this helped us calibrate our steering angle. After that we were out of range. Then to rub salt in our wounds, our VHF radio decided to quit transmitting during our first radio call-in. I guess that was OK, since the purpose of the radio call-in was to tell the fleet where we were. There was no sense in telling them something we didn’t know.
In order to maintain our dead reckoning, every helmsman had to provide a compass heading and speed estimate every 30 minutes. As the race went on we found creative ways to update our dead reckoning fixes to improve accuracy. Our radio was still receiving, so every day during the position reports, the crew would crowd around the radio. I would write down the position called in be each boat, and the crew would vote on how strong the signal was. Then I would plot the positions on the chart. Using the relative strength estimates, we’d decide who was closest to us and update our position accordingly.
The last day out we crossed an oil tanker heading west. When we were directly behind the tanker we got a bearing on his heading. Tuxpan is the major oil port on the east coast of Mexico, so we now had a bearing to Tuxpan. This line of position moved our dead reckoning position a lot closer to our goal.
Surfing
The first two days were ideal sailing with the chute up the whole time in 10 to 15 knot winds. Then the wind starting building. By the end of the third day we were down to a reefed main and #3 jib wing-and-wing in ten foot waves. For us lake sailors, the fun of riding down real waves was a treat. Then we put Terry Cicero on the helm and things got much more interesting. He decided the boat would surf better with more weight forward, so he told us to move forward. We were all sitting in the cockpit and had sailed Feather enough to know this would decrease the authority of the rudder, so we all moved about six inches forward. Terry then explained that we wanted everyone in front of the mast. This sounded like suicide to us, but what the heck we’d give it a try. Boy did it work. The boat was just planted on the waves and the rides were 50% to 100% longer.
After an hour or so of fun, Terry called me back to drive. The drill in changing helmsmen involves the existing helmsman briefing the new driver on what’s happening. Terry showed me where to point the boat while waiting for a wave. Then when to turn down the face of the wave as the stern was being lifted. His last words of advice were to be sure I had the boat pointed straight down the wave when the ride started. To drive the point home he moved the tiller from side to side to show that the rudder was not in the water.
We spent several hours enjoying the ride before John Dickey announced that we had a problem. The rudder was transom hung with a 3/8” pin going through the rudder and the two transom mounted gudgeons. For some unknown reason, this pin was working its way up. The pin had already worked out about nine inches. We measured and decided that we had another three inches or so before the pin would come out of the bottom gudgeon. At this point the rudder would be supported by a single point and twist off the remaining gudgeon. The idea of being 100 miles from Vera Cruz with no rudder wasn’t very appealing, so we all started thinking of a fix.
The problem was that we had experience with removing and installing this rudder pin. In a calm harbor with no load on the rudder, it would take over 15 minutes of working the pin back and forth to work it back in position. We were now in ten foot waves and there was no way to eliminate the side load on the pin. After a lot of thought, the best idea we could come up with was to have someone stand on top of the pin to place a constant downward load and hopefully reverse the movement. Now the problem was getting a volunteer to climb out onto the rudder. We had maybe six beers remaining, and used them to bribe Terry. As long as he would stand on the pin, we’d keep feeding him beers. He was out there for over an hour before the pin got low enough to declare victory. We then used some sail ties to lash down the pin.
Reefs
The harbor at Vera Cruz is surrounded by reefs. There is a northern channel that is less than a quarter mile wide and almost a half mile long. There is also an eastern cut that is over a mile wide. Four years earlier one of the sailboats misjudged the northern channel and ran aground. Over the next couple of days they got to watch the waves pound the boat on the reef until there was nothing remaining of the boat. Obviously the preferred route would be the eastern cut. We made our arrival at Vera Cruz in the middle of the night with over 30 knots of wind and no moon.
By the time we got a good fix, the northern channel was the preferred route. It would actually be very risky to find a way around the reefs to take advantage of the eastern cut, so we committed to the channel. The navigation aides consisted of a single light on one of the reefs and a range light on the other side of the reefs. In theory, all you had to do was maintain a bearing to the range light, and you would be centered in the channel. As we were approaching the reef, a Mexican Coast Guard cutter pulled in behind us and lit us up with their spot light. There went our night vision.
I assigned everyone a job, and we got ready to enter the channel. As our most experienced offshore helmsman, Terry was driving. McNulty was giving us constant readings on the depth sounder. I was taking constant bearings, and everyone else was ready for what ever might come. We could hear the waves crashing on the reef on either side of us, and the louder the sound the higher the tension became. As we entered the channel the waves became much smaller and the depth came up to about 12 feet. At this point Terry asked me if I was sure we were in the center of the channel. To the best of my ability, we were in the center of the channel. Then Terry announced he was turning 20 degrees to port. We couldn’t believe what we were hearing until Terry added that he had to know which side of the channel he was on when the depth started decreasing. Sure enough, a few minutes later McNulty saw the depths coming up and Terry turned to starboard to head for the other side of the channel. A couple more zig zags and we were pas the reef with congratulations all around.
Engine
The last 36 hours of the race had been in a full gale with plenty of spray going over the deck. A goodly portion of this spray had found a leak in the cockpit and ended up dripping on top of the engine. This was discovered after we entered the harbor and tried to start the engine. The engine wouldn’t start. The engine was McNulty’s responsibility, so he dove below and opened the hatch. He had us crank it over again, and then announced we had a problem. It seems saltwater is rather conductive and was giving the high voltage lots of places to go rather than the spark plugs. There was a beautiful blue glow over the entire engine.
Doing a med-mooring in the middle of the night with no engine didn’t sound like fun, so we really wanted the engine running. To solve the problem, McNulty dove into the engine with our last half a roll of paper towels. He would dry as best he could and reposition the wires to separate the ones arching the most. Every time he thought he’d solved a problem, the high voltage would blow another hole in the insulation and create a new path.
All the time this was going on, we were reaching back and forth under reefed main only in the middle of the harbor. Meantime our girl friends were standing on the dock trying to figure out why we kept going back and forth. After what seemed like forever, we got one cylinder firing. A few more tries and other cylinders started coming to life. Yea, we could take the main down and rig the anchor. We were all thrilled to be on land again.
Fever
Within a couple of days of arriving in Mexico I became sick. Vince’s girl friend (Sharon) was a nurse, and she offered to give me a shot of penicillin. Tammy knew I was really sick when I dropped my pants for the shot. After 4 days in Vera Cruz the fleet was scheduled to depart and sail 100 miles up the coast to Tuxpan. I was still feeling awful when it came time to leave, but I didn’t think too much of it.
With the addition of a couple of girl friends to fill in for the crew that had flown home we had plenty of crew. In contrast, Lee Armer’s boat was short handed. It seems none of his crew would get back on board, leaving Lee and his wife to sail it back by themselves. Since we had a crowd, Vince and Sharon volunteered to help Lee sail his boat to Tuxpan.
I got everyone loaded up and stayed on deck long enough the get out through the reefs. It was a lot easier in the day light. As soon as we were clear, I turned the boat over to McNulty. I showed him the chart and where Tuxpan was. Navigation should be easy, just stay far enough off shore and go north. Tuxpan is located over five miles up a river with the tankers using an offshore bouy. Surely the river mouth and sea bouy would be hard to miss. I then headed for the nearest bunk.
Tammy came down to check on me a little later and couldn’t get any response. My fever was 105 and she got scared. All they could do was to place wet towels over me in hopes of controlling the fever. The talk on deck during the night was what to do with the body after I died. Do you sail into a Mexican port with a dead body? Do you try to make it back to the US before I start to stink? Do you feed me to the sharks? They never did tell me what the final decision was.
A little after dawn I woke up. I could hear the sails slatting and it was already getting hot. I staggered up on deck and threw up over the side. I then reached down, started the engine and put it in gear. With a five knot breeze across the deck, everything felt much better. I asked where we were. There were a bunch of funny looks before they admitted they were lost. It seems they had recently asked McNulty where they were. He did the calculations and pointed to a spot on the map. Unfortunately, he pointed to an island, and there were no islands in sight. I stood up on deck and looked around, then I pointed West and said to go that way. Within an hour we saw the sea bouy, then in another hour we found the mouth of a small river. My reputation as a master navigator was now established.
The only problem was that we had expected to see some signs of civilization around the river. There was a Cuban freighter pulled up on the beach, but no signs of people. About a half mile up river we saw a few thatched huts that looked like they belonged in the South Pacific. With the current flowing out our six knot speed under power was taking us up river very fast. After a couple of hours I was starting to worry we were in the wrong river. Then we rounded another curve and there was the town.
Tuxpan
We spent several days as the guest of a rich Mexican in Tuxpan. Our boats were rafted up to a villa with a shuttle boat to take us across the river to town. We had a party every day, either at the villa or in town some where. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, so the time came to head for home. A couple of boats had left earlier, but all the remaining boats were planning on leaving on the same day. My crew was not exactly known for getting up early, so by the time we made it down to the river, ours was the only boat left. This would present a problem, since the water taxi was no longer running.
We had a couple of errands to run, so we flagged down a taxi and began practicing our extremely limited Spanish. Eventually, we got him to the river and pointed to the boat. At this point, things started going sideways. There was lots of gesturing and it began to seem like he couldn’t understand sign language. What became clear was that he did not want to take us to the villa. Finally our driver nodded and headed up the river for a bridge. There was a toll booth at the bridge, and our driver had a rather long conversation with the toll taker. Then we headed across the river and began making our way back to the villa. We got to the villa and drove down the driveway to the back yard. As we came around the corner of the building, we could see the owner having breakfast with his family under the palm trees. Immediately, the servants formed a line between us and the family while the butler reached inside his jacket. In an instant I understood the situation. I jumped out of the car and called the owner by name. The family relaxed, but the servants kept their eyes glued on the taxi driver. We unloaded the taxi and gave the driver all our remaining pesos. He was in such a rush to get back on his side of the river, that I don’t think he even counted the money.
Sailing Home
It was an easy cruise up to Corpus Christi with four people on board. The winds cooperated with ideal reaching conditions. Being summer in the gulf it was hot, but we found ways to adjust. We kept the forward hatch open to send a nice breeze through the cabin. This worked very well until the other watch managed to take a wave while Tammy and I were sleeping. The result was about five gallons of water landing right on top of Tammy.
The other memorable event during the cruise also involved Tammy. She and I were on deck on a beautiful clear night. I was steering, and she was lounging at the forward end of the cockpit. The peaceful scene was broken when a flying fish landed in the cockpit and bounced up Tammy’s pants leg. All I knew was that Tammy went from calm a relaxed to hysterical in about a nanosecond. She was jumping and hopping for all she was worth. Eventually the fish fell out, and Tammy returned to normal in a few minutes.
We parked the boat in Corpus and rented a car to drive home. That ended a most memorable trip.