Making our own history
In 2002, the R. Tucker Thompson set out on a voyage to Korea for 'Sail Korea 2002', a tall ships Festival held to celebrate the Football World Cup in Korea and Japan. Then it was onwards for the West Coast Challenge on the United States... then home to New Zealand. This is Bill Miller's story.
Part 3: Leaving San Deigo
September 16
I move on to the Tucker today as planned. A new Captain, Rodger Girvin, has been assigned, and is faced with the problem of a hurricane approaching Cabo San Lucas, our first destination. Rodger decides not to risk the winds, now 60 to 75 knots (approximately 70 to 85 mph). The Tucker is to be re-routed directly to the Marquesas Islands. We will remain in port until Friday or later if required. Roger plans to use the winds on the backside of Hurricane Ron to speed us on our way. I am assigned a lower bunk on the starboard side, just forward of the dining room.
September 17
Aboard the Tucker, my first night's sleep was sound. The gentle rocking lulled me to sleep. This morning I polished the brass. We are still in port. Hurricane Ron is holding us here and playing havoc with the schedule. Two who were to sail to Cabo San Lucas will not be able to go. One who was to join in Cabo will be here Friday to board. We will sail directly to the Marquesas, hopefully Friday.
My berth is on the right, just forward of the mid-point of the ship. Storage is minimal. In the storage cubicle in the panel at the foot of the bed, I put my socks, t-shirts, underpants and handkerchiefs. In the curved sidewall magazine rack, I place my toiletries and shoes. Under my mattress I laid out my trousers and shirts and the flattened duffel bag. Also under the mattress, I store my life jacket and foul weather gear. With all the stuff under the mattress, there are a few lumps are here and there. I will adjust, if necessary, as time goes on.
Getting into the berth is difficult and has presented me with my first practical problem as a sailor. The board that prevents roll out is about eight inches higher than the mattress. The bunk above is so low that sitting up is impossible so you must find some way to go in horizontally. I work on various approaches. Finally, I solve the problem with a procedure I call "Bill's Belly Roll". You lay, belly down on the roll out board, stick your right leg into the bunk, and roll in. Quite simple once executed and works nicely.
As I write, I am seated on the bow in the warm afternoon sunshine. The Tucker is moored next to the oceanfront walk. All the Tall Ships from the Festival have left except those heading south, the direction of the storm. Avoiding the storm is the Europa, from the Netherlands, a ship from the Ukraine, and us.
People walk by and stare. They aren't allowed aboard. I hear them talking, mostly about such a small ship going around the world. One of the sights that attract the attention of the tourists, and me, is in the rigging. Lucy, a sailor who calls herself a deck girl, has climbed high up the mast. She is perched up there doing something. The mast is about the height of the Clapp building, three stories high, so you can judge her approximate height.
At this time, the trainee crewmembers number six, with one more coming. Three are young trainees, who the crew keeps really busy. The older members, the three in my age bracket, do as we please. Well, maybe I exaggerated a little about my age bracket since I am the oldest by about ten years. In this case, maybe getting old has some advantages. The First Mate, Evan Harris, says to me "It's the young chaps time, relax" as he sets them to scrubbing, peeling potatoes, polishing, etc. I have not even been allowed to wash the dishes.
It does appear that we will sail tomorrow, if the Captain gets all the logistics problems of rescheduling solved. The storm that started the problem has been reduced to a tropical low and has moved inland. This pleases the Captain very much. Now he says we can ride the west wind of the low directly westward into the Pacific, then go downhill to the Marquesas. (Don't I sound like a sailor?) The best to all, you will hear from me again when we reach land in 26 to 36 days.
September 20
Young lads are scrubbing the deck again - they did it yesterday and the day before. Colin, and I are sitting on the pier behind the San Diego Museum reading the New York Times. The Captain is to brief us in a bit. Colin, another trainee like me, is one of the three seniors aboard. A transplanted Englishman, he has extensive sailing experience. He says sailing on the Tucker is the nearest you can get to the way it used to be. The no-nonsense no-frill ship and the approach of the New Zealand sailors appeals to him. He has signed on to go as far as Tahiti. This ended the journal entries before sailing.
September 21
We sail. The morning was foggy. The upper levels of the huge aircraft carrier docked in the San Diego Naval Base are barely visible. Rodger strains to locate the buoys as we creep down the narrow channel. Sources of sounds were hidden in the shroud of fog. Seals lying on the buoys, barked at us as we slide by. Finally, we reach the open sea, the water was very rough, the fog lifts, and we were on our way. I went to the rail, leaned over and up-chucked - the first on board to be seasick.
