SURF, SEX, and PSYCHEDELICS

Permission to come aboard?” “Permission granted”, was shouted from below, followed by, “welcome aboard”. Once on deck we were given a tour. It didn’t take long, and were shown into the main cabin. Where over the course of the next several hours, punctuated by frosty cold Coronas’ and copious amounts of reefer, we poured over nautical charts. We discussed possible destinations including the Line Islands, Marquesas’, Tuamoto Archipelago, and the fabled Society Islands. Looking at a globe you realize that even though there is 800 to 900 miles of ocean separating Hawaii from Palmyra, the northernmost of the Line Islands, once there, Polynesia begins to live up to the meaning of the word. Polynesia meaning many islands. Once across the Equator, the islands fairly pop out of the ocean, in contrast to the empty vastness of the North Pacific. I guess that’s why I have always felt as though I only live on the doorstep of the fabled South Seas. An out post, if you will. South, and then west of Hawaii the tropical Pacific teems with islands It is a huge area, a triangle that stretches from Ataearoa, north to Hawaii, then south and east where Rapa Nui stands a lonely sentinel to approaches from that direction. Be that as it may, we finally agreed, twenty hits of acid, would secure one-way passage, for Bro and I, to Kauai. I know, pretty prosaic, but what do you expect for twenty measly hits? Still it involved a voyage of more than 100 miles across the stormy Kauai Channel, in the middle of winter. I went to the Market place to try and find Sam, but she was not around . I scrawled a hasty note, and gave it to a co-worker. Apologizing yet again, telling her that I would be in touch as soon as I returned. Hoping that I hadn’t blown it with her. Back at the Eros we made ready to set sail with the evening tide, so as to be sure that we would make landfall on Kauai during daylight hours. They’re being few lights along the coast. Prior to casting off we all enjoyed a hearty meal of brown rice and pickled Japanese vegetables. I can still taste ‘em. We set sail just as the sun was kissing the horizon on a beautifully clear evening. Looked for, but failed to see the “green flash”. As is common in these low latitudes there was only the briefest of twilights, but we were more than adequately compensate by the view of the heavenly firmament in all its glory, including the Southern Cross. A steady land breeze had begun to blow off our starboard beam, the water was mirror like, there was little swell. Sitting on the starboard hull , holding a stay, I watched the towns of leeward Oahu as they slid quietly by, their lights twinkling in the darkness, Ewa Beach, the Barbers Point Light, Nanakuli, Maile, Wai’anae, and Makaha. Then, far in the distance the light at Kaena Point stabbed the night. It marked the end of easy sailing and the beginning of the Kauai Channel. It was mid winter, not the best time for a boat as small as Eros to be making that particular crossing. By this time the combination of warm air, a full stomach and the gentle roll of the boat had conspired to make me feel drowsy. And so I went below to grab some shuteye. The soft swish of water against the hull and the smooth rocking soon had me off in dreamland. I was rudely awakened by the violent movement of the boat, we were in the channel, and conditions were far from ideal. The wind had freshened from the Northeast and was accompanied by a rough, confused sea of between 8-10 feet. The sails were luffing badly each time we dropped into the trough of a wave, only to fill with a vengeance like fury at the crest. I took one look at the conditions below, everything in constant motion, gear flying everywhere, gimbaled lamps swaying hither and yon. In a matter of seconds the meal of rice and veggies came up in a steaming torrent of soy flavored vomit. Yep, lost the whole enchilada right there in the cabin. I can still taste it. I didn’t give a damn. I only wanted it to stop, or failing that, to simply curl up and die. Staggering on deck, I joined Bro, who was clinging to a lee stay, and there we sat like a couple of Ophi on a rock for the next couple of hours, washed occasionally by the seas which came on board. Bad as things seemed at the time they could have been much worse. The wind was on our beam, which lessened the chances of an accidental jibe, which in condition such as these could have resulted in Eros being dismasted. As it was she rode the waves as well as could be expected. I sat and chatted with Creighton, who had the watch and as this was my first experience under sail learned many new and catchy nautical terms. Such as HELP, HOLD ON, and MOMMY! Creighton however proved to be an old hand at theses sorts of things. Which was a good thing considering the fact that he was high as a kite, having taken not one, but two hits of the Orange Sunshine before we set sail. As a result he would periodically claim to be seeing mysterious lights and thought that an alien spacecraft was tailing Eros. About every 10-15 minutes I would have to talk him down off some ledge that he had crawled out on. This had the effect of my forgetting about how lousy I was feeling. That’s the sixties for ya. Eventually the night gave way to the dawn, and the seas began to abate. We were in the lee of Kauai. Going below I crawled into a bunk and fell into a deep dreamless sleep. I was out for the next six hours. I was awakened by the cry of, “Land Ho”! Kauai is visible! Nothing can compare with raising an Island out of a seemingly empty sea. We cannot see the tops of the peaks because of the low, unbroken overcast. But it’s there, green dry and solid and only 10-12 miles off. John Rules navigation has been spot on. As we are in the lee of the island the wind and seas are gentle and we enjoy a pleasant approach to Nawiliwili Harbor. Looking behind we are startled to see a large Matson freighter in our wake. Where did that come from? Must’ve chased us all the way from Oahu. Thank Buddha for our running lights. And speaking of lights? This solves the mysterious lights seen by Creighton last night. At the harbor entrance we drop sail and put a small outboard motor on its’ brackets and motor slowly into the harbor, followed by the hulking mass of the freighter.