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I'm told that the second happiest day in your life is closing the sale on the purchase of a new boat. The most happiest day in your life is selling it. Through a trial by sea, running the catalina boat aground proved that I was still a sailor. After going through such an event you either jump back on the boat, or never want to see a boat again for the rest of your life. Many a marriages have split up over a little rough weather on the high seas. Fortunately, both Eric and myself are made of sterner stuff. Though you'll love your boat with a passion, everyone's eyes wander from time to time. I'm also told that the day you purchase your new boat is the day you start looking for your next one. Here's the story of our finding that next one, a diamond in the rough.

On December 10, 2008, a storm ravaged the island of Oahu, nearly marking the anniversary of a strikingly similar storm the previous year. Gusts of 50mph winds strained the mooring that held the boats from being dashed upon the rocks. Beyond the breakwater, the waves broke hard on the jagged and unforgiving rocks along the shore. One boat was unlucky enough to be at anchor when the store peaked. Apparently, six anchors were not enough to save the boat. That boat dashed upon the shores of magic island. People tell me he had no insurance. Over the next few days, I could watch from the stern of Tempo, past the Dorcas sailboat, out at magic island where the owner had his damaged boat chainsawed apart and hauled away. Three days later, the storm had died down somewhat, but a small craft advisory was still in effect. The harbormaster of the Ala Wai Small Boat Harbor thought this would be a good time to schedule sea trials. Enter the Manukai, one of the first, but not the last, victims of the state's new policy that required an annual buoy run. Who could have predicted that something bad might happen? Anyone.

Sunday arrived with bright blue skies and puffy white clouds--a perfect day for sailing. I decided to join Jerry, Lallie, and the gang for their Sunday sail around the waters off Waikiki. I'd been busy with school and work, so I hadn't been able to come along as often as I wanted to. Sailing with Jerry on Mystic is a fun ride. They race against Gerard on Grand Louis. On Mystic we had several experienced sailors, and usually a handful of onlookers. I'll let you guess which category I fit into. On Grand Louis, Gerard invariably had a troop of topless women. If you strayed too close to his boat you were likely to get mooned. As I approached Mystic on the pier, I noticed some of the crew putting fishing poles on board. Lallie told me they expected to drag a few lines while sailing. Feeling bad for the fish, I made a silent wish that no fish would be caught that day. My wish was granted, but the tricky genie gave me more than I bargained for. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for...

Every great craftsman imagines that somehow their gained expertise will somehow allow him to avoid the pitfalls, delays, added expenses, drunk workmen, accidents, injuries, broken tools, and surprise projects that shall befall the lesser mortals. After all, proper planning and expertise should make Murphy's law your little bitch right? Well, I'm no expert craftsman, and boat maintenance in general is still pretty fresh to me. Still, I had visions that our grand electric conversion project for our sailboat 'Tempo' would go smoothly, come in under budget, and that the boat would be back in the water in 3 or 4 days. Somewhere, all the master boatsmen of ages past are laughing their asses off at me.

Well, Thanksgiving is passed, and there's only 11 days till Christmas. It brings back fond memories of holidays past, the excitement of waiting for gifts, the decorating of trees, the overindulgence that the holidays bring. But not all is as it was in Who-ville. Times they be a changing, and the holidays were drug along for the ride.

It had to be done, or we wouldn't have done it. Or at least, we would have done it many months later in a more prepared and thorough manner with electric engines. However, sometimes reality isn't so kind. Keehi Marine Center had issued us a notice to vacate our slip, citing a dubious "no reason", and giving us about 30 days.

The orange was pure ambrosia in my mouth. Any scurvy in my body didn't stand a chance. Of course, only having been on the ocean for a few hours, scurvy was not very likely to settle in. That'd take several weeks at least. I was more concerned with keeping hydrated and a reasonably filled stomach which were good measures against seasickness. I'd never gotten seasick before, and I wasn't looking forward to ever experiencing it.

A couple miles off the coast, we were puttering along slowly at a few knots, perhaps as much as 5 knots but I doubt it. Eric put on so much of my SPF 35 sunblock that he looked like a mime. Getting tired of continually correcting the steering, I set the steering brake and sat down, periodically making course adjustments. Occasionally I'd have Eric go down to check the bilge. The bilges were completely dry until we were a couple miles off the coast, of course. By then there was a little trickle of water down there. Nah, we couldn't have a leak. Still, I'd have to look into it.

Our first big hurdle was getting out of the slip. This entailed fending off from two boats and the dock. We had to swing the bow out far enough so that when we did engage the motor we could turn away safely from the other boats and enter the water ways that led to the channel. Meanwhile, in the background the radio squawked something unintelligible about military exercises and to "steer clear" of some geographic coordinates which I hoped weren't on our path. Someone around Hilo was also in distress and the Coast Guard was requesting assisting vessels. It promised to be an interesting day.

I really didn't want to do it. I wanted to hire a professional to tow our boat. Eric wanted to use our other boat, Tropic Moon, to tow Tempo over to Ala Wai. Fearing that we might lose two boats in the move, I argued strongly in favor of either towing, or going with my outboard motor mount idea. Eventually my side prevailed, as we had only two volunteer friends arrive to help move the boat. Just in case, I loaded on board some extra flares, throwable life preservers, and a man-overboard array. I'm sure this inspired confidence in my crew.