ON A LEE SHORE OF A VOLCANIC CRATER —

Thesun's morning light was slowly making its way into the anchorage of McGregor Landing on the island of Maui as I stood in the cockpit of my 1965 Pearson Alberg 30 sloop, Triteia. I could see small whitecaps already starting their day on the ever-windy Maalaea Bay. Inside the small, protected cove the wind was gusty but only blowing about 12 knots. On board for this part of my cruise of the Hawaiian Islands was my friend Kimberly Wood, a professional drone pilot, an established field researcher and a professional tender captain for National Geographic and Lindblad Expeditions on their ship, Sea Lion, based in Alaska.

We had motorsailed the day before from Mala Wharf near Lahaina with 6 knots of wind at best until we approached Papawai Point, just past Coral Gardens anchorage, where we were met with 20+ knots of wind gusting to 27 knots as we grew closer to Maalaea Bay. I quickly ran forward to drop the main while Kimberly used all her strength to try to get the boat into the wind. We found refuge in the small cove anchorage of McGregor Landing and got the hook set in 7 meters of water on a sand bottom and paid out five-to-one scope; the strong winds blowing into the anchorage set the hook so hard and fast, it swiftly straightened Triteia as the chain went taut. I noticed several windmills standing tall and climbing higher and higher up the hillside above the anchorage, and thought they were well placed.

The winds fluctuated throughout the night but never got above 20 knots. With the morning's coffee properly dispatched, we readied the boat for departure. We were bound due south to the famous Molokini Crater to snorkel at this worldclass dive site. The partly submerged volcano crater allows boaters to sail inside its remaining rim and pick up one of the 26 sunken moorings, a type of mooring I have only ever seen in Hawaii, where you The well-rigged Alberg 30 'Triteia' leaving McGregor Landing.

must dive down 10+ feet underwater to attach your dock line to the submerged mooring ball. The mooring balls are said to be for "day use" only, but many cruisers around Hawaii told me that they had spent the night on the moorings there and that all the tour boats are gone by early afternoon. Ralf and Wiebke of the Germanflagged SY Flora had told me that there were now two surface buoys that could be picked up, and showed me a photograph of the location of the one they'd stayed on during their visit to Molokini.

are funneled between Haleakala and the West Maui Mountains, making their way across the isthmus of Maui. According to Carolyn and Bob Mehaffy's Cruising Guide to the Hawaiian Islands, when the trades are blowing strong the winds in Maalaea Bay often exceed 50 knots. We were blessed with a day of somewhat slack trade winds and clipped off the miles in comfort and peace.

I hauled the anchor up by hand as Kimberly slowly motored toward my hand gestures, and as soon as the hook was up and secured, we pointed out of the anchorage and into the small wind waves of the bay, killing the engine and unfurling the headsail. The silence, there is really nothing like it. The silence seems loud at first, as the diesel engine rumbles to a stop, and then it is accented with the sound of the boat moving through the water — the swish of the sea, the lapping of the wind waves and the occasional sound of bubbles.

We were on a broad reach in 15 knots of apparent wind with Triteia making a steady 5-6 knots. The sky was a brilliant blue with fluffy white clouds that looked as if they had been pulled from an oil painting. The water was that cobalt blue that is usually reserved for the deep ocean. With only 9 miles to our destination with perfect sailing conditions, I knew this would be one of those short passages you wished could last all day.

Maalaea Bay, and its small-boat harbor of the same name, are said to be the windiest spots in all of the islands, as the trade winds

Kimberly has spent years on highspeed RIBs all around the Hawaiian Islands as a researcher with Cascadia Research Collective. Their research team studies and tracks the various species of marine mammals that call the Hawaiian Islands home or visit for breeding and birthing. Kimberly knows these offshore waters very well and is well acquainted with how serious the channels are and how glassy the seas can be in the lee of the islands. She pointed out how sloppy the seas seemed to be and noted how comfortable it was sailing, having limited sailing experience, and said that this sea state would be miserable on a RIB. We both agreed how strange it was to feel the boat sailing so gently with the wind waves marching along beside us.

Years before, off the coast of Southern California on countless daysails, I had demonstrated to lubbers who had come out for a day on the water how different the wind and boat felt on various points of sail. I would always start with us running with the warm air of summer, quietly sailing along, and I would slowly come up into the wind, sheeting in the headsail as we came about until we were closehauled and beating hard into the wind and seas with wide-eyed landsman whiteknuckled, clenching their drinks with one hand and the ship with the other until I fell off onto a reach and everyone relaxed.

Aswe got within a few miles of Molokini Crater we sailed wing and wing on a dead run. It was glorious, perfect sailing. When we were within a mile of the crater, I started the engine and furled the headsail. We could see the last of the tour boats leaving the mooring field as we made our approach.

Kimberly went to the bow to try to get a visual on the surface mooring ball the crew of SY Flora had mentioned to me. In the sky above the crater some 15 iwa birds (great frigate birds) soared high in circles, with a few doing battle in the air. Dozens more could be seen nesting on the hillsides of the extinct volcano. As we