And on June 8, forty-three days out, we had our last “incident”:
0955. Buzzed 3 times by U. S. Navy plane. Very low and close, once knocking wind out of our sails.
No comment. Wait, I do have a comment. You have been at sea in a small boat for over six weeks. During that time you have seen nothing but the sea and the sky. Suddenly you hear a distant ominous roar, mounting in volume. You look aft, and see a dark projectile overtaking you at fantastic speed. It roars past you in a horrible crescendo of sound, seeming to miss the mainmast by inches. The sails flap in the turbulence caused by the sudden passing. The crew, startled out of their somnolence, rush on deck. Before you can explain, they see for themselves: again the plane dives at you, this time from forward. Almost touching the waves, it passes just to starboard, lower than the mast, banks sharply, and returns for a third pass, the closest of all. Then it rises and rapidly dwindles to a speck and disappears to the northwest. You have just been “buzzed” and your peaceful voyage is over. You are back among men.
That afternoon we sighted land to starboard, long, low, and hazy. That night we saw Nojima light, and by the next day we had felt our way through a dense fog into Yokohama harbor. The weather reports were warning of the imminent arrival of Typhoon No. 3. We decided to ride this one out at anchor.
The fog lifted as we entered the harbor and we were met by a boatload of Japanese reporters, so many we could hardly get them all on board. We stopped near the outer breakwater in order to give them pictures and stories. I was still ruffled by the buzzing incident, but I said nothing about it, knowing it might be played up disproportionately. However, later I wrote the navy in Yokosuka, asking them what gave with buzzing small ships like that. Of course, I got no answer, but several months later, while talking to an ex-navy man, he told me that it was “standard procedure” to use small fishing boats as targets for buzzing practice. This time definitely No Comment!
Our stay in Yokohama was extended one week beyond our planned schedule, for reasons which I will merely enumerate: (a) Typhoon No. 3. (b) Typhoon No. 4, which we rode out at an anchorage near the yacht club (we drew too much water to go into the club anchorage). For thirty-six hours we couldn’t get off the boat. (c) A berth up the river, where we promptly grounded and lay on our side for six hours at low tide. (d) A new berth at Dock 9, under construction, complete with dynamite blasts at irregular and nerve-shattering intervals. (e) Broken bowsprit, after being rammed by harbor boat, while we were sitting at the dock minding our own business. Consequence—had to make a new bowsprit—quite a job.
However, we finally got away, after signing a waiver of liability and obtaining a Permit to Cruise, which permitted us to poke our bow into any place we wanted to.
We left Yokohama on June 23. I don’t know if any other foreign yacht has ever made the coastal passage from Yokohama to Hiroshima or thereabouts; I’ve never heard of any. However, for the convenience of yachtsmen who might come this way, I list briefly the thirteen ports we touched at, in the course of our 700-mile trip covering nineteen sailing days:
Hashirimizu, Self-Defense Force anchorage.
Aburatsubo, wonderfully hidden little spot.