Sea Kayak Adventure! Sounds More like Kayak Torture.

We had been shooting down imaginary aircraft, responding to fantasy inbound ships and chasing holes in the water for a month now. We were getting used to the monotony of life at sea. We were going to pull into Naval Station Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico in three days. My friend Jon was training for a sea kayak adventure that most people would not even burden their minds with, let alone train their bodies.

Jon's idea of fun was to jet ski over supertankers wakes, water skiing behind a speeding Scarab or to wrestling a huge fish out of the water with a tiny little rod. His idea of fun was anything that brought him closer to the edge. This time the adventure would force his battered body to navigate 42 miles in a sea kayak from Puerto Rico to St Thomas with nothing more than a magnetic compass, he did not even want to take a handheld GPS and had to ordered to take a PFD. The only compromise Jon made was to have a small radar reflector on top of a pole attached to thekayak.

His plan was simple; he would leave Roosy Roads at about 4 am and head towards Charlotte Amalie. He figured he would arrive about fourteen to fifteen hours later.

The ship drifted away from the pier quietly, without ceremony. I stayed on the bridge, my buddy Jon was not there. He was paddling his brains out towards the Virgin Islands. I asked a mutual friend, Jake, where thought Jon might be.

He pulled up the chart he was using to expose the chart beneath, "well, he left at about 4:30 this morning, its 9:25 right now…" He paused to figure the time and speed, "he should be right about here." He pointed to a point only about 15 miles ahead of us on this "Tracking Jon Chart."

The Captain mad Jon attach a radar reflector on his kayak, I called it his beanie. He did not think it was very funny. We went over to the commercial marine radar we just had installed. Jake and I messed with the gain and contrast until the scope matched the clear and cloud free sky. Good thing the antenna was mounted 40 feet above the waterline, we could see forever. We matched up the returns to what contacts could be seen, we saw nothing unusual.

All the sudden we had a "pop-up," a radar return that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. Jake and I rushed over to the Big Eyes and low and behold, we saw Jon. He was paddling powerfully through the glassy swells. The wind was negligible, sea state 0, no chance of rain, perfect weather for his journey.

Another boat safety compromise Jon made was to carry a handheld VHF. Jake calculated our position, got the bearing and range to Jon, then plotted his position on the "Tracking Jon Chart." He was only about one mile south of his track, not bad for someone who is only doing 3 knots! Jake calculated his set and drift, and then plotted his corrected course taking into account the deviation of his magnetic compass.

Although we could see Jon, we were well below his horizon. Jake grabbed the microphone of the bridge VHF and hailed "Kayaker Jon, Kayaker Jon, this US Navy warship.

"A few seconds later I could see him stop paddling to answer the radio, "this is kayaker Jon."

Jake shot back, "Are you ready for your correction?"

"I sure am!" He already sounded exhausted

Jake relayed the information to Jon. At the time, Jon had this signature saying, "oh happy day." Jon usually said it in response to some sort of "negative stimulus"; a response to make himself actualize that the only easy day was yesterday.

Jake and I had already thrown the pilots ladder over the side for Jon. We sat on a pair of bits shooting the breeze when we saw the lines of the pilot's ladder go taut. We rushed to look over the lifelines and saw Jon sitting in his sea kayak, laying back laughing hysterically.

At first, we thought he was crying, we yelled down, "Jon, are you OK?"

"I can't believe I tried to climb up the ladder after paddling for sixteen hours."

We lowered a horse collar to him and pulled him up using a J-Davit. He came up with this huge grin, even though the sun burnt him to a crisp. When we swung him inboard, he yelled out "oh happy day" as we laid him on the deck. He made it!