Remembering the Voyage of Antara : Sailing: From frustration to elation, all-female crew’s emotions ran the gamut over 16 days in the Transpacific Yacht Race.

She was soaked but smiling, drenched by a bucket of sea water and a shower of champagne. Ther was little use wiping away the tears. Everyone on the dock at Ala Wai Yacht Harbor could sense Bonnie Gibson’s relief.

On June 30, 16 days earlier, she had sailed from Los Angeles, the skipper of the second all-woman crew in the Transpacific Yacht Race’s 37-year history. Gibson, of Costa Mesa, had been warned Transpac was a test like no other. Violent squalls, equipment failure, break down of body and spirit. Rule No. 1, she was told, was to expect the unexpected.

But here they were, 2,250 nautical miles later, fresh leis around their necks, mai tais in hand, a concrete-and-steel skyline replacing endless sky. Antara, their 40-foot home at sea, bobbed gently in slip No. 535, the head of a barracuda lashed to its bow.

The voyage turned out to be a marathon of moderate conditions; overall, it was one of the slowest Transpacs in years. The greatest challenge was not in battling squalls from every direction but dealing with the anxiety and frustration of going nowhere fast. The reward was a passage that was part self-realization tour, part slumber party. A year’s worth of preparation and training paid off in increased confidence, camaraderie and self-esteem.

But Gibson, 45, needed only a split second to answer the question.

“Do this again?” she said, smiling. “Absolutely not. There are too many things I want to do in life.”

Her shipmates, the majority from Orange County, didn’t necessarily agree, but with the finish line at Diamond Head behind them and the Transpac trophy dinner only hours ahead, the future could be put off another few days.

It was time to let the adventure of a lifetime sink in.

*

“Why am I doing Transpac? Because I have wanderlust, restless feet

--Terry Monson ship’s log, July 6

Monson, of Diamond Bar, was aboard Antara a year ago when the crew, competing in the Oakland-to-Catalina race, sailed into a raging storm off the Northern California coast. Like her crew mates, Monson was scared beyond belief, what with the 40-foot seas, loss of power, radar and lights and winds that tore through the mainsail.

But even though Antara, a 25-year-old Cal 40, suffered a couple near knockdowns, her crew sailed her into port, or close to it. The Coast Guard had to tow the boat the final mile or so into Port San Luis Obispo.

“I was scared we were going to die,” Monson, 32, said last month. “But when it was all over, it’s like, damn, look what we did. There’s no feeling in the world like it. That’s why these girls impress the hell out of me. Nothing is impossible to them. They don’t have ‘no’ in their vocabulary.”

The roughest weather during Transpac hit in the first few days. Navigator Deb Rigas had a tough time fighting off seasickness. Antara’s shortwave radio had trouble transmitting over distances, meaning nearby boats had to relay Antara’s daily position to the Transpac communication vessel. Leaks, too, were a problem.

“Things seemed to have settled down to somewhat of a routine--if you can call sleeping in wet clothes and dodging drips ‘routine,’ ” Gibson wrote. “Several of the port lights in the main salon leak and puddles of water collect on the dining table and on top of the refrigerator. Even attempts at keeping the log book dry seem thwarted!”

But the crew was happy. Antara, which on Day 3 covered 193 miles, the best mark it would record for the voyage, was leading its class.

*

“Who was it who said to me: ‘If you girls get into difficulties, don’t expect us to stop and help you--we’ll be racing!’ I said ‘Up your bum’ then, and I say ‘Up your bum’ now! We shall hold first place in our class!”

--Amanda Russell ship’s log, Day 4

Russell, a Briton who recently moved from Huntington Beach to San Francisco, grew up sailing with her brother off the coast of England. A sailmaker by trade, she and watch partner Lori Barnes of Fountain Valley formed the “Animal Watch,” crowing like roosters and howling like wolves along the way. They, with the rest of the Antara crew, were in no way participating in Transpac as pleasure cruisers. Winning was always on their minds.

Russell came up with the “Kill the Kiwis” slogan, hoping it would inspire them to beat the New Zealand entry, Vendetta. Russell rigged a small banner--showing a kiwi bird with a slash through it--and hoisted it up the mast. Let’s make kiwi stew! was her rallying cry. But Antara had more opponents than Vendetta. Although many in the sailing community supported Antara’s efforts, there were also those who said privately they wouldn’t be surprised to see the women fail. Some said they knew of sailors who bet that Antara would never make it to Honolulu.

Sailing, ocean racing in particular, traditionally has been a male domain. Races such as Transpac require plenty of funding--a minimum of $25,000 per boat--and sponsors generally seem more apt to put their trust (and dollars) toward campaigns they are certain will succeed. That is why Antara owner Barry Schuyler, a longtime proponent of women’s sailing, offered the use of his boat to Gibson, president of the Orange County-based Women’s Ocean Racing Sailing Assn. He wanted the women to prove they could sail as well as the men.

He also insisted they have fun.

“The cabin,” Russell wrote on Day 4, “looks like the inside of a football team’s locker room.” Socks, hats, gloves, T-shirts and jackets, damp and mildewed, hung about the cabin. In the first week, little seemed to dry. On a narrow shelf, each crew member had a designated “private space” to place family photos or inspirational sayings. A “Prayer for Sailors” was taped on one wall. The toilet area was decorated with newspaper comics; a Playgirl magazine (well-worn by journey’s end) was stashed by the sink.

A note under the ship’s clock said: “For California time, add two hours. For Hawaii time, subtract one hour. Otherwise, the above time is COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT!”

But those aboard made the most of it. Before the race, Betsy Crowfoot of Tustin, Antara’s unofficial entertainment director, had secretly collected cards and letters from crew members’ friends and family so that a morning mail call would be possible. On Day 2, Flora Obayashi of Huntington Beach opened a letter to learn her brother’s wife had given birth to “Chanel,” a daughter, in Hawaii three weeks early. One crew member’s mother sent a poem. In a letter to Crowfoot, longtime sailor Bill Kaufman wrote:

“By now you have come to the realization that the human brain is at its worst between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. The only good thing about standing watch at 4 a.m. is that dawn is coming soon, and there hasn’t been a bad sunrise yet!”

Actually, just about everything was going smoothly the first 10 days, with the exception of Obayashi falling off the steps into the cabin, suffering a bump that left her with an egg-sized lump above her left eye. Other than a few bandages and antibiotic ointment, the first-aid kit, supplied with everything from syringes to splints, went unused. Man overboard procedures, practiced routinely before the race, weren’t needed. First mate and safety officer Shirley Doell dived in once for a quick dip, but only Crowfoot’s favorite coffee mug was lost at sea.

To break the monotony, crew members entertained each other with skits, celebrated “Christmas in July” by decorating the boat with cut-out Santas and composed songs about sailing, food and men. Bras were hoisted up the mast, and most of the crew--expect for Monson, who wore jeans, a long-sleeve shirt and hat no matter the weather--sunbathed au naturel . Crowfoot constructed a fishing pole from the handle of a scrub brush and caught a 20-pound albacore (providing the crew with dinner for four consecutive nights). She also caught a mahi-mahi, with Gibson’s help--”I resorted to clunking it over the head with a mallet,” Gibson wrote. “The occurrence did seem quite gruesome to a few.” But it was the barracuda that caused all the fuss.

It was Day 12, just after midnight. Crowfoot, on watch with Monson, started hauling up a most unfriendly looking fish. “I said, ‘Terry, this thing’s ugly! It’s got big teeth!’ ” Crowfoot said. “Terry couldn’t see it. She goes, ‘Oh just bring it in.’ I said, ‘No way, it’s ugly ! It’s got big teeth going in all different directions!’ She says, ‘Just bring it in!’ ”

Crowfoot brought it in, pinning it to the deck under her rubber boots. She and Monson strapped the fish to the transom. “Then,” Crowfoot said, “we sawed off his head.”

They lashed it to the bow, its demonic grin leading them all the way to Hawaii.

*

“Terry laughs a lot as she writes her letters and in her journal. I’m afraid she’s delirious.”

--Crowfoot, Day 11

The voyage was almost two weeks old when the crew hit its low point. The winds, which averaged 10 to 15 knots the first week, tapered to barely a breeze, then died. In the trip’s first few days, crew members (all chocolate lovers) tossed Hershey kisses to the sky to appease the wind gods. But chocolate sacrifices were no longer helping. The mainsail slapped listlessly. “We couldn’t even find wind to go find wind,” Monson said.

On Day 13, Antara recorded only 90 miles and dropped from first to third place in its class. The next day, it managed 110 miles. The crew, still in third in the IMS-C class, would not recover its lead. The only other all-woman crew to sail in Transpac--on Concubine, in 1979--experienced similar conditions and ultimately exhausted its fresh water supply. In Honolulu, friends and family of the Antara crew grew anxious, wondering what the mood of the crew might be.

It was OK, thanks to hours of training before the trip on group dynamics and communication. Although the light conditions, at times, made crew members edgy--some worried whether they’d get to Honolulu in time for the trophy dinner--they focused on utilizing every bit of breeze possible. They kept their sense of humor, at one point trying to see how many could squeeze into the ship’s tiny bathroom (six) and forced themselves to think positive: Hot showers, comfortable beds and reunions with their husbands and boyfriends . . . they would be in Hawaii soon.

*

“Just a few miles to go. It’s amazing how clear your vision can be out here blue-water racing, looking at God’s sky and sea.”

--Obayashi, Day 15

Maui’s Haleakala, a dormant volcano, rises over 10,000 feet. Its outline was the first glimpse of land the Antara crew had seen in nearly 16 days. As they sailed closer, toward the Molokai Channel that would lead them to Honolulu, sea birds soared overhead. On their final race night together, a gorgeous pink sunset awed them as they ate their dinner of macaroni and cheese. A group of dolphins splashed at Antara’s side. The lights of Hawaii twinkled in the distance.

The morning of July 16, they watched the sun rise over Oahu. Diamond Head was in sight, the winds picked up, filling Antara’s yellow and orange spinnaker and driving the boat to a record 11 knots. They could smell burning sugar cane in the air.

They sailed across the finish under the Diamond Head lighthouse at 7:02:55 a.m. Hawaii time, elated but exhausted, hugging and screaming--15 days 18 hours 2 minutes 55 seconds after leaving Los Angeles, 37th out of 39 finishers. A pair of tourist-carrying submarines churned by, oblivious.

On the dock, greeted by about 50 well-wishers, the Antara crew stepped off the boat and prepared to party.