By Takashi Nishiyama Translated & Edited by Sam Yoshimura I had just lost a bid to become a city councilman of Saeki, Oita Prefecture, Japan, and that was when my phone rang. The call was from my longtime sailing buddy Fumio Ohsuka. Fumio owns a boatyard and a dealership of used boats, both sail and power, in the nearby city of Beppu (pronounced betpooh). Beppu is a resort town, best known for its abundant hot spring spas that can be found everywhere from its bay front to mountain side. I have been sailing for a little more than three decades of my life, primarily on this body of water called Bungo Suido (boongo sooido). It is the western end of Japan’s scenic inland sea, Seto-Naikai. I don’t know whether Fumio knew then that I had lost an election, but he was upbeat as usual. For a moment, I thought he was going to try to cheer me up by talking about getting my boat, a Yamaha 30S, ready for the upcoming sailing season, though it was still a few months down the line.
Sunrise just after leaving Aio. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006
“I just got a nice little sailboat listed on my website,” he told me, “It’s a Flicka! And I need someone to bring her down to my yard from Aio.” “A Flicka? Is that the little sea-going yacht from Pacific Seacraft?” I mumbled. “Where did you say she was?” “Aio, Yamaguchi.” “Can you go pick her up for me?” Aio is about 50 miles north of Beppu, a distance that may be covered by a day. Suddenly, I felt an urge to ride on the idea of sailing this little boat that I heard about many times. I took a deep breath and smelled a breeze from the salty sea, and like a fish released back into the water, I was back on my feet.
Takashi Nishiyama (left) and Masuhiro Yufu just before embarking. Hull #104 was re-christened TANOMOSHI. The red insignia is designed by the owners and symbolizes her name TANOMOSHI in Japanese, which means "dependable", "reliable" and "trust.” Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 Delivering s/y TANOMOSHI Aio to Beppu In the early morning of January 11, 2006, I left Aio for Beppu. The Flicka, thennamed Neri (PCS #104), had a Yamaha 9.9 longshaft. I had planned lots of motor sailing that day to cover the distance. When I embarked I had the main fuel tank and two reserve tanks, a 20-liter (5gallon) and a 15-liter (3 & 3/4-gallon) portable ones, all filled. I also had two quarts of motor oil in reserve. The weather was fine that morning, but there was no wind at all. At 5:30 a.m., the temperature was –3 Celsius and the deck was covered with frost. I bundled up and had a total of five heating pads placed all over my body. I then put on my foul weather gear and a PFD with harness. A little before 7:00 a.m., I hooked myself to a jack line, and started the outboard. The delivery route from Aio to Ginowan, Japan. Credit: Yuriko Ando © 2006
The Yamaha 9.9 was not quite stable while idling and died a couple of times. Fortunately it didn’t give me a lot of trouble at my restart attempts, and at 7:20 a.m., I shifted the engine into forward. I saw a beautiful sunrise over the calm water. The Yamaha gave her the speed of about a 5.3 knot average at 80% throttle. At full throttle, the Flicka trotted at 5.7 to 5.8 knots. That’s quite impressive for a heavy displacement boat of that size. The ride was very smooth. She sailed with a gentle motion, hard to believe that she was a 20-footer. About an hour later, I finally got some light air from NE. I hoisted the main and set the Flicka for running. The wind shifted to and from NW a little later which caused a few controllable jibes along the way. Thanks to her full keel, she held the course well, but I wished that she had come with an autopilot, for I was single handing all the way that day.
Pacific Seacraft Hull #104 at Hime-jima. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006
I had to avoid several freight ships and a few patches of commercial fishing grounds before making a stopover at a Sailing a Flicka by Chance:
A sleet-wetted deck off the coastline of Kyushu. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 small island, Hime-jima (hee-may jeema), for a quick lunch and a fuelrefill. Usually, these islands don’t have a marina or a dock for pleasure boats, but fortunately local fisher folks are kind to point us sailors where to moor our boats as soon as they see us. This stop was not an exception. At 1:30 p.m., I left the island. I continued motor sailing before the wind with only the main sail up. When the breeze from N, dead astern, built up to 5 – 10 knots, she started to roll significantly, heeling up to about 30 degrees both ways. After 3:30 p.m., the sea got choppy, with the waves standing a little
over three feet tall. The cockpit, however, was well protected and amazingly dry. Even when the large ships left us in their wakes, Flicka’s heavy displacement hull and sturdy construction not only made me feel secure but she had not lost her speed at all. Soon, I could see a change in the tide, and the speed dropped to about 4 knots with the motor running at half-throttle. When I revved it up to 80%, the speed increased by just 3/10th of a knot. Clearly, I was going against the tide. Around 4:30 PM, I cleared the head of Kunisaki (koo-knee-sah-kee) Peninsula and changed the course to W. After
hoisting the storm jib, I killed the motor to see how she would go - she made only a little over 3 knots, so I kicked in the outboard again. It would take just four more hours of beam reaching to Beppu from there. As sundown neared, I checked the voltage of two batteries and turned the navigation lights on. The temperature dropped abruptly after the sunset at about 5 PM. When I saw Fumio’s big smile, it was only minutes to 9 PM. He was out there on his 26footer and waited for me just outside the Kitahama Yacht Harbor of Beppu to guide me in. That day aboard Pacific Seacraft Flicka hull number 104 only validated what I had heard or read Delivering s/y TANOMOSHI
A strong breeze brought s/y TANOMOSHI to a near broach. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 about Flickas – the pleasure of seeing one and sailing one. I was glad that I finally had my day on a Flicka and I thought I had understood why so many people, sailors and non-sailors alike, were attracted to this boat. For a couple of days afterwards, however, my arms stayed as stiff as a bamboo stick, a result of steering by hand on the tiller for more than 12 hours. Anyway, I guess I didn’t know how much I really liked this vessel that time. Going Deep South The hull #104 went through a refitting
at Fumio’s yard and was re-christened “s/y TANOMOSHI” (“dependable / reliable / trust”) by Yuichiro and Naomi Tsuruta, her new owners. How could I turn it down when Fumio asked me to meet the Tsurutas, who asked me to deliver Tanomoshi to her new homeport on Okinawa Island? Okinawa Prefecture, that lies far southwest of mainland Japan, consists of 161 islands and they span about 625 miles from east to west, and 250 miles from north to south between latitudes 27 and 24, a paradise in Japan. The combination of Okinawa and Flicka was truly appealing.
The Tsurutas, avid wind-surfers themselves, were new to keelboat sailing. They put their trust on me after only one meeting that day. And myself? I was confident that I had a skill to make the safe delivery over the 500 mile course. I had sailed in many areas in Japan over the years in various weather conditions. I also completed a 308-mile Brisbane to Gladstone (Saeki’s sister city) Race in Australia. Upon accepting the offer from the Tsurutas, I set up a plan for the delivery. It would be mostly island hopping along the archipelago of Kagoshima Prefecture, just north of Okinawa, after leaving Kyushu, the southern-most mainland Japan. Sailing a Flicka by Chance:
Pacific Seacraft Flicka # 104 near Tokuno-shima. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 The timing was crucial. If I didn’t leave early enough the prevailing Northwesterly along the archipelago would change to Southerly. This would make the passage extremely difficult because of the head wind, and the Kuroshio (Black) Current that also come up from south. I couldn’t afford to miss the Northwesterly. If I departed right away, and if all went well, I could be at Ginowan Marina in Okinawa in less than three weeks where the Tsurutas would see me. Leaving Winter Behind A friend of mine, Masuhiro Yufu, decided to join me for the first legs until I
would leave Kyushu. We sailed out of Beppu on February 4, at 8:20 AM. It was a cold day with five to twelve knots of breeze from the north. Again, we were motor sailing with the main and the storm jib. Throughout the voyage, I motor sailed and avoided using an expensive genoa I had on board. After all, this was a delivery, not a cruise. Also, since I was single handing for the most part, I had reefed the main when I was still at the dock everyday to avoid hassles underway. Safety was my concern. Tanomoshi reached a steady five knots for a few hours before the sleet started hit-
ting us from behind. Later on, the wind built up and drove us to a near broach. We pulled into the port of a small fishing village at 3:30 PM. We covered 40 nm on the first day. We left the village the following morning just before 1:00 a.m., and steadily sailed at about 5 knots. At one time, GPS recorded an astounding 9.3 knots! We sailed into Miyazaki Marina at 5:35 PM, and bought 40 gallons of gas. Yamaha 9.9 burns about a gallon every hour. It was a fine day. Covered distance of the day: about 80 nm. It was raining the next morning. We left the marina at 7 a.m. Soon, it was raining harder, much harder. Visibility dropped to less than Delivering s/y TANOMOSHI
Pacific Seacraft # 104 docked at a well protected quay in Kametoku, Tokuno-shima. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 350 feet. The wind from SE exceeded 20 knots. We kept our course to dead S. As we needed to steer to SW for tonight’s port of call, Aburatsu, the wind shifted to S, but the waves, about 10 feet tall, started pushing us from SE, which made me very nervous since the land on our starboard now appeared closer and closer. The rain and the sprays got both of us wet. We cheered ourselves up by constantly calling out to each other. We double-reefed the main, and by slowing down to 3 knots, carefully steered into the narrow channel that leads to the port’s entrance.
For Masuhiro, this was the end of his adventure. He took a bus to the nearby railway station. For me, it was the beginning of a real challenge to sail alone the rest of the way over the stretches between the islands, going against the Kuroshio. I checked with a fisherman and made sure the spot where we moored Tanomoshi was fine with them before hitting the hay for a deep sleep. Foul Weather and Getting Out of It As afore-mentioned, it was crucial for me to catch the Northwesterly to over-
come the Kuroshio along the archipelago just north of Okinawa, known as Seinan Shoto. The weather at Southern Kyushu was, however, not so cooperative. I had to spend two days and three nights at Aburatsu because of the never-welting gale winds that swept all fishing fleets back to the harbors. On the third morning I was awakened at 4:20 AM by the hiss from the standing rigging. It was still blowing hard and I had no hope getting out of Aburatsu that day either. I was still in my sleeping bag when my cell phone rang. It was the regular 5:30 AM morning call from my wife, Kayoko. Amazingly, when I got off the phone with her, I s/y TANOMOSHI Gallery s/y TANOMOSHI Gallery
ABOVE: Volcanic Mt. Kaimon-dake is at the tip of Satsuma Peninsula in Southern Kyushu. The area is full of active volcanoes. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 RIGHT: Owners Yuichiro and Naomi Tsuruta enjoying time aboard their Flicka s/y TANOMOSHI (#104) with their friend in Okinawa. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006 BELOW: Sunrise near Aio on the first morning of the trip. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 OPPOSITE / UPPER: The new captain and crew enjoy sailing a recently delivered Flicka near Okinawa. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006 OPPOSITE / LOWER: Nakano-shima of Tokara Islands, a half waypoint of the 170 nm non-stop leg from Ohdomari in Kyushu to Naze on Amami Oshima. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 Sailing a Flicka by Chance: realized that there were almost no winds at all. I hurried up to deck. Hurray, this was the day to leave. At 6:30 a.m., just outside the port of Aburatsu, the breeze from NW built up quickly from 5 – 6 knots to 10 – 12 knots. Not bad. Some freighters and commercial fishing boats happily passed by me. After nearly three hours heading S, I rounded the cape of Toi at 9:15 a.m., and set the new course to SE. Out the shadow of Cape Toi, Tanomoshi was immediately subjected to 7foot swells and 25+ knots of wind that blew across the Shibushi Bay onto our starboard. The sea gave us pretty good rolling, but again, Tanomoshi held the course very well. One thing we had added at Beppu was an Autohelm, along with its backup Autopilot from Fuso, and that kept me from getting my arms stiffened, so far. At about the half waypoint of the day’s leg, however, the Autohelm started acting strangely. I switched the batteries from #1 to #2, and it came back to normal. But then, within half an hour, it went totally out of order, and I was forced to steer by hand the rest of the way. It was around 5:00 PM that we arrived at small harbor of Ohdomari. As I told earlier, small harbors in Japan do not have docks that are dedicated to pleasure boats, but all in all, the local fishermen are very friendly and helpful. They always guide us to the right places as soon as they see us sailors. At Ohdomari, a fisherman picked up the docking lines for me, and when I told him that I needed to buy some gas, he even offered to go buy it for me from the town’s only gas station, which I happily accepted. He would then make a round trip to the gas station, driving his own pickup truck. I took a hot shower and soaked my body in a spa with a panoramic view of the sea beyond the southern tip of Kyushu, where the archipelago lies all the
Skipper Takashi's POV aboard Tanomoshi. Photo: Takashi Nishiyama © 2006 way to Okinawa, but it was night time, so I actually couldn’t see anything. Anyway, the next morning, I would be leaving this southern-most harbor on mainland Japan. Later that night, I made the backup Autopilot ready, with the help from Fumio on the phone, for possibly the longest leg of this delivery, 170 nm from Ohdomari to the port of Naze at Amami Oshima. Leaving the Mainland At 6:30 a.m. on February 10, I left Ohdomari and headed SW along the Cape of Sata, the southern tip of mainland. There were almost no winds and the sea was calm. When I passed the cape, the sight of volcanic mountain Kaimondake at the tip of Satsuma-hanto peninsula, standing magnificently off to our starboard quarter, caught me. Turning my head forward, I recognized an island volcano, Iwo-jima. This Iwo-jima should not to be confused with another Iwo-jima that was a horrific battleground in WWII. Setting the compass course to 220 degrees took me toward
the island, and it worked well to circumvent the Kuroshio Current. I then headed south to go through the sea between Yaku-shima and KuchinoErabu-jima. When I reached the north end of the waterway, it started raining and the wind had built up abruptly. The sea started to roll Tanomoshi at will. A thought of making refuge at Yakushima’s Miyanoura harbor crossed my mind, but I pressed her on for about an hour. Then, just when I passed through there, I found that the Autopilot stopped working. Could that be the battery again? I switched to #2, but it didn’t bring back life to Autopilot. At this point, I had covered barely a quarter of the 170 nm leg. I didn’t have a choice but to go the rest of the way with my hand on the tiller. I didn’t have a doubt that Tanomoshi could take it, but the constant rolling was hard on my body. My bottom and lower back started complaining, and my arm got stiff. I kept an eye on the bulkhead- Delivering s/y TANOMOSHI And at 33.2 nm, Tanomoshi was well in the cell phone range. I immediately called Kayoko and Fumio. Knowing that I now had enough fuel to cover the remaining distance, I started Yamaha 9.9 and kept it at a half throttle. Tanomoshi made steady 5 knots. At 6:00 PM, I saw the beacon turned on at Kasarizaki Lighthouse on Ohshima. I double-checked the chart and made sure where the access was to the port of Naze.
TANOMOSHI with the friendly neighbors upon her arrival. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006 mounted compass and on the GPS, not to wander away too much from the course, SSW. Mercifully, as the day progressed, the wind and rain subsided, and close to sundown, I saw Nakanoshima of Tokara Islands, which was about the half waypoint of the leg. That night saw a near-full moon. I tried not to fall asleep, but around 2 AM, after nearly 20 hours into the nonstop sailing, I could no longer sustain it. I picked up a line and lashed the tiller amidships. I didn’t know for how long I slept below, but I was awakened by the sound of waves hitting Tanomoshi’s hull. They sounded a little different from what I was hearing before. I listened and realized that the sails were also making a noise. I jumped up and rushed to the cockpit, and realized that we were off to SE. I took the helm again and put her back on course. Then, at about 3 a.m., the motor died. It was out of gas. I needed to refill the main from a spare, but I decided not to,
for I wanted to keep the fuel in the reserve tanks for the access to port of Naze. Around 4 a.m., I had to go below again to take a nap. When I woke up, however, it was close to dawn, about 6AM, and soon I realized that Tanomoshi had been pushed back for about 2 nm! Fortunately I was nowhere close to land or a shoal. At dawn, I saw Takara-jima off to the starboard. The name of the island literally means Treasure Island in Japanese. It has a legend of Capt. Kidd’s treasure, still hidden somewhere in one of those deep natural caves on the island. The end of the leg, Amami Ohshima, was about 50 nm down to SW, and was not visible yet. The sea was calm. Tanomoshi kept going at the pace of 2 – 3 knots with less than 10 knots of breeze under the reefed main and a storm jib only, with no help from the outboard. When GPS displayed 36 nm to Naze, I finally caught the sight of Ohshima.
Soon after the nightfall, the wind picked up and Tanomoshi’s speed surged to 7+ knots. That was good, but the swell built up as well and forced Tanomoshi to roll vibrantly again. Some big splashes wetted the cockpit. A series of lighthouses, Kasarizaki, Imaizaki, and finally the two smaller lighthouses ones on the jetties, helped me into the port. But the access way up to the jetties was meandering, and because of the heavy rolling, and later the large following sea, it was nerve wracking to get there. Past a couple of inner jetties, I finally found a dock at the farthest corner where fishing vessels are moored. At 11:00 PM, I secured Tanomoshi. Lucky me, that was just in front of a gas station, a convenience store and some restaurants and bars. I cannot say enough about how much I was relieved when I stepped onto the dock, after completing this leg. After a deep sleep, I woke up in the morning to find the gale-force wind zipping through the port. That made me glad that I had made a beeline to Naze without stopping at Yaku-shima’s Miyanoura harbor. At Naze, I bought 80 gallons of gas and some provisions, did laundry, went to a spa, and spent the day resting. Island Hopping On the 10th day, February 13, 2006, I left Naze at 6:30 AM for Tokuno- Sailing a Flicka by Chance: shima, about 45 nm to SW. Outside the port, there were 5+ foot swells. Fortunately they came from N, the direction off the starboard quarter. Basically I hugged the western shore of Ohshima south till I passed this largest island in the chain. I saw a shark fin cutting through the water between the waves. When I reached off Kakeroma, the neighboring island that forms a picturesque sub-tropical inland sea with Ohshima’s south shore, the swells got larger, but, for a mercy, longer as well. Soon, Tokuno-shima came into view. Originally, I planned to go to the port of Kametoku on the eastern shore of the island, but to avoid sailing after dark, I opted for Hetono harbor on the western shore. That cut the distance to cover by 2 nm, and still gave me a good point to embark the next day. I entered the harbor at 6:00 PM. A local guy who was fishing on the jetty guided me to a spot where we could stay, a well-protected quay. I walked to a gas station nearby, and the attendant let me use his pickup truck to transport the tanks full of gas back to Tanomoshi. The proprietor of a small eatery shook my hands when he heard that it was a 20-footer I was sailing from Beppu to Okinawa. Back aboard Tanomoshi, I talked on the phone with Yuichiro, the Flicka’s owner, who wanted to come aboard at Yoron, the southernmost island in Kagoshima Prefecture.
Flicka s/y TANOMOSHI arriving in Okinawa. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006
After Tokuno-shima, there were only three more stops to make on the way to the final destination, Ginowan on Okinawa’s main island, and the distance of each leg was just about 25 nm. For this part going south, however, I had to face the head wind, instead of the northeasterly I enjoyed all the way up to this point after leaving Kyushu. Taking advice from a local fisherman at Hetono, I decided to head for Inobe, one of the three harbors on OkinoErabu-jima, which is famous for its production of sugar cane, pineapples,
TANOMOSHI zipping past Tadashi's Ulysses. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006 Delivering s/y TANOMOSHI and cut flowers, especially white lilies. I left Hetono at 8:20 AM. As expected, the wind blew head on, and the waves hit us from the same direction. Tanomoshi made her way at 3.5 knots with a half throttle.
Owner Yuichiro (left) and Delivery Captain Takashi celebrate the completion of 500 nautical mile delivery from Aio to Okinawa. Photo: Naomi Tsuruta © 2006
At noon, I revved it up to the max to gain an extra half knot. Although the sprays soaked me wet, it felt warm on my body in the balmy climate of latitude 27. From the distance, OkinoErabu-jima appeared fully surrounded by white sandy beaches and coral reefs that were constantly washed sparkling white by the oncoming waves. I arrived at the low tide. The access to Inobe harbor was only 15-ft wide and meandering. The water was so transparent and hid nothing from me. It was scary to see the edgy reefs just below on both sides so close. If it were not a Flicka that I was sailing, I probably would have thought twice about going in there. I moored at a quay at 3:40 PM. The next stop was Yoron, and the day’s coverage was about the same as yesterday’s, 25 nm. I hoisted only the storm jib that day, to use it as a steadying sail. Tetsuya Matsumura, one of my sailing buddies, who had frequently visited Okinawa on his sailboat suggested on the phone that I should go north from Inobe, which is on the western shore of Okino-Erabu, round the island’s north end, then resume the south-bound by sailing along its eastern shoreline for safety. Going back to north for a short distance was no problem. As I started rounding the island’s northern end, I saw whitecapped waters ahead. A series of reefs? No, there were no reefs shown around there in the chart, and it turned out to be the edge of Kuroshio Current. Tanomoshi had been motoring at a pleasant speed of 6 knots up to that point, but it was quickly diminished to 3.5.
Owners Yuichiro and Naomi Tsuruta enjoying time aboard their Flicka s/y TANOMOSHI (#104) with their friend in Okinawa, Japan. Yuichiro at the helm, Naomi with her thumb up. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006
With Okino-Erabu behind us, the swells dead ahead grew ever larger, and the hobby horsing got me all wet with Sailing a Flicka by Chance: very heavy sprays. The GPS dropped to the cockpit sole and got soaked up in the seawater. Below deck, I dried the battery chamber, wiped the terminals clean, and placed new batteries. Phew. It came back to life. I could see the island of Yoron from 10 nm out, and within a few hours, I recognized Yuichiro waving his hands at me at the end of a jetty. Just as in Okino-Erabu, the water was crystal clear – it was scary because I could see everything in the water and they all appeared to be so close to Tanomoshi’s bottom, though in fact there was enough space for the hull. At this port of Yoron a local sailor, Naoya Ikeda, rushed out of his office and guided us to where we could cleat the lines. After a hot shower ashore, we found in Tanomoshi’s cockpit a bottle of Shochu (show-chew, local liquor, say, an equivalent of rum) along with Tanomoshi’s nicely framed picture! The gifts were from Naoya. Later, we had a great dinner and conversation with his family, relatives and friends, but that’s another story. On To Okinawa! On the 13th day, February 16, 2006, at 8:20 AM, Yuichiro and I left Yoron for Okinawa. The head wind from south was in the 4 –5 knot range. When we covered about 10 nm of the leg, with Yuichiro at the helm, we saw Okinawa Hontoh, Okinawa’s main island. We figured that we could go as far as Tokuchi harbor on the island’s western shore before sundown. As we got closer to Iye-jima, which is located 10 nm NW of Tokuchi, ominous clouds developed above the island. The entrance channel to Tokuchi was narrow and sandwiched by coral reefs as well. We were fortunate to motor into the harbor before the storm hit. Yuichiro’s wife, Naomi, with their son, Yusuke, in her arms welcomed our arri-
Naomi, Yuichiro with Yusuke in his arm, neighbors, and Takashi upon s/y TANOMOSHI's arrival. Photo: Tadashi Watanabe © 2006 val. A fisherman quickly advised us to moor Tanomoshi with her bow facing windward to prepare for the storm – that put her there at the quay European style. At 5:30 p.m., we were all set. Nothing beats a hot shower after sailing. Naomi had arranged the use of a shower for us at the nearby facility for commercial divers. The Tsurutas then
treated me with a feast at a steakhouse, a la Benihana. They also arranged a room for me to stay at a bed-andbreakfast that was close to where Tanomoshi was moored. That night was the first time in two weeks that I slept in a bed. The following morning, the near gale force wind was too much to make a final leg to Ginowan Marina, Tano-