Peter Jenvay - Life and the Sudden Death of Salt Peter

Authors Note

So how will I relate my story? Since I have lost all of my handwritten journals and notes, I must rely on what I have. Though my adventure stretches only over a one-year period, there were many individual memories and experiences that make this presentation worthwhile, for me and, hopefully, for you. Fortunately, I was able to salvage my many photos and tape recordings. Also, I was surprised to find that my numerous e-mails to family and friends were saved for me and serve as a good outline for my mental review of the trip. Its amazing what one forgets! Ive decided to build this book around the e-mails, leaving them as they wereerrors and alland with them convey my actual states of mind at the time. Theres a kind of truth in that. The many photos will help to give the reader a more intimate involvement in my experiences. And finally, I will use my recordings to help me in the support of the e-mails and photos by providing some personal commentary to fill in the gaps and provide a more complete presentation. With this approach, it is my hope that you will enjoy my year in the Pacific.

It is an interesting biological fact that all of us have, in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch it we are going back from whence we came.

John F. Kennedy

Chapter I

Leaving Marina Del Rey

Paul McGinnis and Walt Lloyd, My MDR Support Team

On June 7, 2013, I was sent off by my good friends Paul McGinnis and Walt Lloyd. The departure at 0745 hours and the parting was not without manly emotion, for we all knew the risks and, in any case, the length of time before a reunion. For this threesome there would be no happy hour for a while! Walt followed me through the harbor, and we played photo tag to document the departure. As I saw Walts red dinghy fade into the distance I knew this was it, the start of a very long journey.

Walt at the Ready: Making Sure I Dont Change My Mind!

The Wave Good-Bye!

As I crossed the channel to Avalon, I was in a kind of disbelief that I was finally on my way but managed to pull out the instruction booklet for the Scanmar Monitor Windvane,, which I installed myself but had not used since my Hawaii trip in 2010. It was a wonderful and indispensable piece of equipment, which was truly like having an extra man on board who worked round the clock and ate very little! No single hander making a big trip can afford to be without oneunless, of course, you have a very reliable electronic autopilot and know how to fix it if it fails! I quickly refamiliarized myself with the instrument and managed to fine-tune its use over the next few weeks. It was a marvelous piece of equipment, and I was quickly reminded of its outstanding contribution in the past. Such a trip would hardly have been possible without Monty, as I called it. The forty-two-mile trip across the channel was uneventful and took about six hours.

Beautiful Avalon Harbor

Avalon was exactly what I needed it to be. It was a familiar and lovely setting in which to clear my mind, review my notes, continue to organize (an endless process), check the rigging, etc. and enjoy some last real meals. It was also a time to discover initial problems with my new Iridium sat phone. Luckily my cell was still operating, and I could make the necessary calls to rectify the problem and voice some last-minute farewells before losing service near San Clemente Island. Avalon is often criticized for its crowds of tourists, but I took it all in, knowing that it would be a while before again encountering large numbers of people.

Salt Peter with Overcast

Chapter II

Farewell, Avalon

The South End of Santa Catalina Island

At 1015 hours on Monday, June 10, I departed Avalon Harbor and headed south toward San Clemente Island. Winds were light, so I motor-sailed in order to get some distance between me and the islands before dark. Though I tend not to have much issue with seasickness, about an hour out of Avalon I found myself increasingly nauseous, and not until I fed the fish did I feel totally myself again for the remainder of the leg to Hawaii. It has been my experience that my body rebels against the transition from land to sea, and once the initial protest is made, all is well and the stomach submits to the oncoming abuse! At one point, the engine began to sputter, so I shut it down to investigate but found nothing obviously wrong.

It was slow going to the south end of Catalina, and it seemed like an eternity to reach San Clemente Island. I should say at this point, that speed has never been my thing and the nature of sailing, for me, has more to do with taking in the surroundings than trying to outrun something. The thought takes me back to my climbing days when it was quite clear to me that it was the climb, the struggle, not the seizing of the summit that made the challenge worthwhilefor me. Dont get me wrong, getting to the top is truly a high and is certainly the goal from the outset. But how fast you get there is secondary, unless, of course, youre talking weather, which can affect climbers and cruisers to a powerful extent. At this point, however, getting away from any obstructions at night was a good thing. Nearing San Clemente Island, I discovered that my Garmin 740 Chart Plotter was not bringing up the chart. I tried for a long time without success, managing to bring up only the fish screen. That was something at least. I began imagining the sail to Hawaii without the plotter. I frequently heard jokes before my first Hawaii trip about how you cant miss the islands, how, with all the jet tracks, assisting currents and predominant winds, you could sleep all the way there! To be honest, it almost seemed that wayback then. Incredibly, I discovered that I had left my LA-Hawaii chart behind. What a way to start a trip! I was now beginning to get a bit nervous, and I know what you must be thinking (I thought it too!). But lets stay positive. I evaluated my situation and decided to call my friend Paul, at Catalina Yacht Anchorage, for advice. He suggested that I keep playing with the plotter; he was certain it hadnt failed. I did as he suggested and after a while, voila! There it was, and I cant explain it. So I was good to go.

The sky continued to be overcast, the wind very tame, and the sea calm. Again I tried the engine, and it fired up, performing flawlessly. Unfortunately, San Clemente Island seemed endless. By late afternoon the wind picked up and the sea got bumpy. I was moving at about five knots, and my stomach reminded me it was time to eat something, especially since it would get dark soon. I braved the galley where I was quickly reminded what it was like to cook at an angle. It was like being in a cyclotron and items stowed below went all over the place. I was reliving what I wanted to forget from my 2010 trip. This was one thing I could never get used to! Merely boiling a pot of water or canned soup could become a major challenge as was such a simple thing as making a cup of instant coffee. Of course, you would get better at it with time, but it seems that when youre the most sure of your control and technique that your meal can become a decoration! After a quick, unsteady dinner of soup and crackers, I attempted to restow some of the dislodged items. No matter how clever I thought I was, this would become a recurring routine.