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out here and I can't be sure where!"
We wandered for five days until the sun came out again. Without a reasonably accurate estimated position Dad couldn't even take bearings on the hills, in case he confused the similar topography north or south of us.
"If you don't feel fear then you're just plain stupid"
With no marine radio with which to keep in contact Te Tiki and its companion boat had always to keep close in sight. The kerosene running lights gave but meager illumination. In squalls or storms the boats became separated, which forced us to proceed alone until we sighted each other at sea again. Failing that we met up in a pre-determined rendezvous. We sailors had a healthy respect for the sea. There were no rescue services. We were cautious mariners. "If you don't feel fear then you're just plain stupid", Dad would pronounce. We kept watches. Many of the cruisers I meet today tell me they actually go to bed at night. That their rest and alertness is more important that all night watches! That is sheer laziness and unseaman-like; its also culpable negligence. My parents never sailed their boats blind. Strict round the clock watches were maintained in which the crew stayed awake.
Near tragedy.
Despite their cautions Te Tiki's 16-day voyage across the Gulf of Tehuantepec from Mexico to Nicaragua nearly ended in tragedy. A broken engine, forcing my parents to sail southward through the oppressive calms by day and then be blown northwards by the furious Papagayo winds by night, had hindered them. (On a later voyage with engine this passage took us just 5 ˝ days.) Time and time again they were beaten back, so that they were forced to claw their way forward when the wind relented. In the raging darkness Dad, on the bowsprit struggling to pull in the violently thrashing jib slipped and fell! With his legs dragging in the water he desperately clung on to the bobstay but with the boat pounding he thought he was lost. Adrenalin surged through his brain and muscles. With a burst of superhuman strength he swung his legs to the deck, hauling himself aboard white-faced and shaking. But our little dog Barney was not so fortunate: she disappeared forever that night.
A job in the Canal Zone.
When Te Tiki reached Panama after ten months, the engine was useful only as a mooring block while both food stores and funds had run out. Mom and Dad decided sell Te Tiki. Dad found a job in the Canal Zone as the skipper of an Army-owned pleasure launch on which he took the "Brass" out sports fishing or ferried them to lovely Tabago Island 20 miles off shore. The shadowy jungle crept close to our temporary quarters, teeming with squawking parrots, chittering monkeys, coral snakes and even the raccoon-like coatimundies that Tim and I fed by hand at dusk.
A new roomy boat with electricity.
In 1950 the Carstarphen family returned to San Diego aboard a Troop Transport ship to buy the 38-foot Block Island ketch Shellback. Dad rebuilt the Spartan interior in oak with nice homely touches. Her 14' 6" beam, allowed the luxury of an off-center dinette that kept the main cabin clear, making her roomy enough for our pet parrot and the four of us. The new varnish gleamed and the frequently polished brass sparkled. We drank from solid unbreakable silver goblets and Chinese pewter mugs acquired in Panama. Shellback had lights, and a generator that because of his non-affinity with motors sometimes drove my Dad into rages. But with electricity Shellback could be modernized with a SSB radio and a RDF, radio direction finder. The big wood stove kept us warm in the cool northern climate, but was later ditched in Panama to be replaced by a two-burner gimbaled kerosene primus.
Founding the Seven Seas Cruising Association.
Across the harbor from the San Diego Naval Docks Mom and Dad acquired the lease for the historic Victorian "Coronado Boat House", complete with a "Rainbow Fleet" of fifteen rental sailboats. With my parent's encouragement a community of live-aboard aspiring cruisers gathered to share the Boat House docks and facilities. The Nissens, Slasors, Miners, and Rumseys are the ones I remember the best. Other yachts sailing the coast stopped by, among them John and Mary Caldwell of "Desperate Voyage" fame with their children who were about our own age. Their boat was even more Spartan below decks than Te Tiki had been. Louis Valier sailed in from Hawaii on his lovely Tahiti Ketch Teré, which I had been named after. Such camaraderie developed that in 1953, Mom and Dad, along with their seagoing friends, founded the Seven Seas Cruising Association to assist the scattered cruisers to better keep in touch and pass on vital information about the little known ports they visited. What started as cyclostyled copies of friend's letters is today a vibrant organization sending out a monthly bulletin to over 5,000 cruising boats!
In January 1954, when Tim and I were eight and ten, with the kitty beefed up the Carstarphens were ready once more to heave off the Stateside dock lines. The experience of the first voyage made Mom and Dad feel ready to sail alone.
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