Landfall

While on vacation, we fell in love with Landfall, in Honolulu. Since I had used up my vacation time, I hired a man and his wife to sail her downwind to Kwajalein. The downwind trip is the easy one. The trades blow out of Honolulu on an almost direct course to Kwaj. She made those years at Kwajalein a true pleasure.

Perhaps Landfall was one of the reasons we didn’t get rock fever on that island of Kwajalein that measured 3 ½ miles by ½ mile. We would load up the boat and leave about 1500 hours on Friday and sail to the island of Illeginni on the west reef. By the time we arrived, all the workers were gone, airlifted out by Helicopter and we had the whole island to ourselves for the weekend. At times we felt like the only people on earth. Then there were sails to other islands in the lagoon that were always magical.

* When we finally made the decision to leave Kwajalein, I was faced with the choice as to what to do with Landfall. The options were to sail her either to Hawaii or Japan. Hawaii was straight upwind to the trades which involved 1,000 mile tacks if we went the Northern route; or South and East until we could get a wind bearing that would carry us North to Hawaii. In either case it would be a long trip that would test our endurance.

On the other hand if we went to Tokyo, the wind would be primarily on the beam and we should be able to sail in a straight line right to Japan, a much shorter trip even though the actual mileage to Hawaii or Japan from Kwajalein was identical, almost to the mile. I had spent some wonderful years in Japan and this would give me an opportunity to go back for a visit. And to sail to Japan versus Hawaii sounded so much more interesting.

The decision was made and on 9 May 1985 at 0300 in the morning, Landfall departed the port of Kwajalein for Yokosuka, Japan with myself, Al Whitcomb, Leo Nolan and Wes Westhafer aboard. The reason for leaving at such an ungodly hour was based on the fact that we wanted to arrive at Bikini during the daylight hours.

Bikini was directly on our course to Japan and although it was generally a closed site, we had been invited by Bill Robison of the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory to stop overnight. Besides, we salivated at the thought of being able to dive on the Aircraft Carrier Saratoga, which sits straight up at the bottom of the Bikini Lagoon, sent there as a result of the nuclear weapons testing in the 50's. As it turned out, Landfalls engine required re-alignment and that took up the time that we should have spent diving on the Saratoga.

But we had a wonderful party that night on the island of Bikini, with Landfall tied up alongside the Egabrag, (thats garbage spelled backwards) a ship on the Department of Energy contract at Bikini. She really was misnamed because she was a wonderful ship commanded by Keith Coberly, one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.

The next day we did a re-alignment on the engine and departed for Japan. The only land we would see for the next 18 days was the one mile triangular Marcus Island ( Minami- Torashima) a Japanese Island that was currently housing a Loran Station. This island was directly on our route to the entrance of Tokyo Bay and although celestial navigation was our only means of knowing where we were and where we were going, we hit this island right on the money, to the degree that we had to turn slightly to avoid it.

Al Whitcombe and Leo Nolan were the navigators and did a wonderful job of keeping track of where we were. What a great sight Marcus island was after not seeing any other human related object for almost a week. Besides, it was exhilarating to see Marcus Island right where it should be. Although we did not drink the entire trip while underway, I made an exception and broke out a bottle of wine for the crew (Al had a little Bourbon) to celebrate our success in finding Marcus Island. The no drink rule ended as soon as we got to the dock at Yokosuka.

I’ve got to say that people who are fortunate enough to make a voyage such as this will discover many different aspects of their own ability and experience first hand some of the wonderful secrets of nature. I did not realize that on a moonless night, stars provide enough light so that one can safely walk about the deck. And to watch porpoise come alongside the boat on a pitch black night and illuminate the water with phosphorescent light lines that appear as tracer bullets underwater. Although we were in what could be considered some of the loneliest parts of the ocean, we saw birds every day . And fortunately, we had four personalities aboard that really got along with each other. We laughed and joked all the way to Japan and only on one occasion was there a semblance of disagreement or serious discussion.

And well there should have been.

As we approached Japan, a Typhoon was also approaching Japan from the South West. We had been watching Typhoon “Gay” for several days and when it became apparent that we going to meet just outside Tokyo Bay, we made the decision to turn South East and try to get as far from the eye as possible. So, on 24 May at 2330 hours we turned to a heading of 120 degrees. The next day, as we tracked the eye, which had now built to 110 MPH, it became apparent that she was turning more Easterly and bearing down on us. We put all movable gear below and as evening came on we all went below and prepared for a rough night.

The only serious discussion on the trip was whether or not the life raft, in its canister, should be placed below with us. One argument was that if we needed it in a hurry we might not be able to get it out in time. The other was that if it was below with us, at least we’d know where it was. It was only loosely tied to the forward hatch and the storm might carry it away. The down below argument won.

Another problem that we were facing was that we were fast running out of fuel and oil. Up to this point we had been running the engine in excess of a week due to lack of wind and I had calculated that unless we got some wind, we would not have enough fuel or oil to make land.

Several Japanese fishing vessels, some quite large, made a pass on us as they were making for shore and safe harbor, to let us know there was a typhoon coming. One even offered to put us under tow and tow us to shore, however, I declined, knowing that he would likely tow at 16 or 18 knots which would either pull out our bits or sink us, as our hull speed was about 6 1/2 or 7 knots. As one of them came by I asked him if he could pass us some oil, which he did.

The crew filled a large bucket about half full of oil (probably about 2 gallons) and Hi-Lined it over to us as we motored in formation. Although I have videos of some points of the trip I was not able to get a video of this maneuver because we were all involved with the passing of the oil.

As the eye approached, I was desperate to get weather information on the location, intensity and movement of the storm. As so often happens when a storm of this size approaches, the High Frequency radio, our only contact with the world, becomes innefective. I tried every frequency that I knew to make contact with someone but no luck. And then, as I was spinning the dial, a voice boomed in. “Continental 187, you are cleared to climb to FL 350, call passing FL 280.”

I was listening to Tokyo Center giving clearances to aircraft !

I wondered if perhaps I had gotten a harmonic frequency, kind of a shadow frequency whereby you can receive but not transmit. It was illegal for me to transmit on this frequency because we only had a HAM Radio and by law are not authorized to transmit on Aviation frequencies. But what the heck, I considered this an emergency. So I picked up the mike and said “ Tokyo center this is Air Force 28756, radio ground check.” Immediately the voice answered “Air Force 28756 you are loud and clear.” It was not a harmonic frequency and I had made good contact.

I considered my next move and waited a few minutes to act. “Tokyo Center, this is the Sailing Vessel LANDFALL, do you have a discreet frequency?” He gave me another frequency and I re-tuned the radio. I am certain that every military aircraft and civilian airliner on Tokyo Center also went to that discreet frequency out of curiosity, to find out what was going on. I told Center that we were a sailing vessel about 200 miles south of Tokyo and unable to make contact with any other station and asked if he could give me an update on the typhoon. He said “standby” and a minute or two came back with the best briefing on intensity and movement of the storm that we had the whole trip. I thanked him and left the frequency.

The last report was that the eye should pass within 30 nautical miles of our Dead Reckoning (DR) position about midnight. As the night settled in we all wedged ourself in our bunks to ride out the storm. As midnight approached it got very rough with the roar of the wind and the crashing of the sea being our total, dark, world. From my bunk, I could see the barometer and was severely discouraged when at 0300 in the morning the barometer was still falling. The eye had not yet passed ! Although the ride was very bouncy (it might have been a blessing it was nighttime and I could not see the conditions outside) I never once felt that we were really in jeopardy aboard Landfall. She was a strong boat.

The rough ride that night tested our morale and we were getting tired of going sideways at a good clip. A drifting boat has a tendency to lay sideways or perpendicular to the wind. We decided that if we put up a storm jib we would be back in charge and at 0800 Wes and I went to the bow to retrieve the 45 lb. CQR (plow type anchor) we had put out as a semblance of a sea anchor to try and keep our bow to the wind. I might add it had no effect and we made a good speed sideways as the anchor was being dragged at right angles off the bow.

Getting the anchor in proved extremely difficult and hazardous as Wes and I spent a lot of time underwater each time the bow dipped. I did consider cutting it loose but after a lot of holding on and pulling, we got it back on board. With the barometer now rising and the winds probably around 40 or 50 mph we set the storm jib and started sailing on a heading of 310 degrees. Our morale immediately went up. You could feel it. We were now in charge of our own course and destiny instead of drifting helplessly in the Pacific.

We tied up to the dock in Yokosuka at 2230 on 28 May, 21 days after leaving Kwajalein. THEN we broke out the booze and celebrated our successful voyage. I must at this point pass on what I felt is an incredible story, as I know and was told of it, in Landfalls history:

When Landfall was originally commissioned in Taiwan in 1975, she was sailed from there to Japan and then on to Hawaii. Aboard were the owner and his wife and a ferry Captain and his wife. The ferry Captain’s wife was blind and although this seems highly irregular, it is my understanding that she had sailed with him all over the Pacific. In Japan, the owner and his wife got off and the ferry Captain and his wife began the sail to Hawaii. Somewhere enroute, the ferry Captain fell overboard and the wife, being unable to sail the vessel could not help. As I understand it she could hear him shout off and on for sometime, however she was not able to maneuver to get to him. After a while she could not hear him anymore and for about 30 days drifted alone, helpless and blind in the Pacific.

After being sighted by a ship she was taken aboard a Coast Guard Cutter that had been dispatched from Hawaii with a crew aboard to sail Landfall on to Honolulu. I later met one of the crew that sailed her there. The boat went through several owners before I got her and enjoyed her for several years at Kwajalein.

When I finally sailed her to Yokosuka after leaving Kwajalein, we were told as we approached Japan that we must stay aboard the boat until cleared by Japanese Customs who would be down at 0900 the next morning. We did as we were told and did not leave the boat. When the Customs people showed up the next morning, we faced them with appropriate hangovers from our arrival party the night before. Although they were very polite they were also very thorough.

After they left, I got up on the dock and a boat owner who was living aboard his boat introduced himself as Jim and asked if there was anything he could do to help us. I made the idle comment that “No,” everything was in order but the customs people were a little sticky.” Jim said “The customs people didn’t used to be so particular, but about ten years ago a guy came to Yokosuka, matter of fact tied up on this dock right where you are tied. He cleared customs coming in but left without clearing out.” At this point the hair on the back of my neck started to tingle because I had a premonition of what Jim was going to say. “Ever since then,” Jim continued,” Customs has been very thorough. Matter of fact the guy fell overboard about halfway to Hawaii and his wife who was blind couldn’t pick him up and he drowned.” I said incredibly “Jim , that was this boat”. He said, “By God you’re right!”

I had come back ten years later to the same spot on the same dock that Landfall had departed from on that fateful voyage. Anybody familiar with Tokyo Bay and its size and density will understand that the chance of that happening is incredible.

When the Customs people left, we decided to walk to the snack bar, about three or four blocks away from the pier, for some breakfast. Recall that we had a substantial arrival party the night before and none of us were in the greatest of shape. As we approached the snack bar and the discussion had turned to what kind of eggs and sausage we were going to have, one of our crew couldn’t hold it any longer and turned to toss his cookies in the street, right in front of the snack bar entrance.

A couple walking by saw, with dismay, the unattractive event that was taking place in front of the snack bar and I could tell by the expression on their faces that they were rather shocked. So I pointed at the crewmember in crisis and then the snackbar and told them "Boy, I wouldn’t eat in there!

© 2006 by Jim Reed