Monthly Archives: July 2014

Brain Retraining

28 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by in How Does This Work, Why Go Sailing

≈ 4 Comments

This discussion of brain retraining is sort of about sailing, and sort of not. It’s also part of the reason why the boat is presently in the driveway, in July, with projects happily going forward but still at home on solid ground.

“Brain retraining” is a technique for healing, based on relatively recent research on the workings of the “limbic system.” This system is mostly in the brain, and has quite a lot to do with humans’ – and other creatures’ – fight/flight/freeze responses. Limbic system processes, and appropriate function, are thoroughly intertwined with immune system activity, muscle tone, joint tension, digestion, and neurological function. Doesn’t that just cover the works!

For very many years, whenever the question of explaining my health situation has come up, I have done my best to delicately sidestep the entire subject. Over the course of decades, I’ve run through a variety of diagnoses, and some of them have been true – Lyme disease, for one. But my gut feeling has been that none of those labels tells the full story, and anyway, talking about it has just made me cringe. If things are going well, talking about it often messes it up, and if things are going in a more difficult way, I’d also just as soon not go into it, other than necessary basics so that people have a context for a request for some kind of help. It’s been hard to explain why I feel this way, but it feels best to honor that sense of things, and so for the most part, including in this blog, I don’t say a whole lot about it. Regardless, here’s this post… The subject of brain retraining feels important, as does a certain amount of context, for understanding why.

Sometime this past spring I heard, somehow in the right way, or at the right time for it to sink in, about brain retraining as it relates to multiple chemical sensitivities (MCS), chronic fatigue, and fibromyalgia. There are strong immune system connections too, which obviously have a bearing on long-term microbial diseases, but the folks who know a lot don’t have much to say about that. They’d probably be sitting ducks for problems with the medical establishment if they did, so the rest of us are left to put it together for ourselves. Fortunately, that’s not hard!

The big news is that two different people have, somewhat independently, created protocols for addressing MCS, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia and sensitivity to electric/electromagnetic fields, by working with calming what’s explained as a vicious cycle/feedback loop of overactivity in the limbic system. By calming the limbic system, and thereby coming out of a constant state of fight/flight/freeze response, one’s body has a chance to heal. “Healing” is, somewhat ironically, shut down during fight/flight/freeze responses. This is because those responses are designed for things like escape from attacking tigers, based on the evolved wisdom that if you don’t get away from the tiger, diverting all resources to that task, nothing else is going to matter in the least. Healing/cellular repair, digestion, immune system/disease response all go on hold, while muscle tone, tightened joints, wide eyes, and everything else needed for alertness and quick getaways receives all the blood supply and everything else. Designed for a few minutes of use at a time, staying in this limbic system alarm state for the long term doesn’t work out very well. Muscles and joints tire, energy levels become depleted, and effects of ongoing diminished function of neurological, digestive, and immune systems add up more and more.

There’s a whole bunch of material about how one can end up in a chronic state of limbic system alert – childhood trauma can contribute, as can a variety of adult life experiences, including physical and/or psychological injuries, and life stresses. There’s lots to read on the subject, if anybody is interested, and references are listed below. There are also, now, some very good resources available about how to actively develop limbic system calm. Quite a number of people with serious, life altering health issues have been having enormous shifts, working with these practices. It’s dramatic. I personally know some of those people, and it was enough to get my attention when I heard about what they were up to, being seen out and about town, looking quite well.

One of the brain retraining practitioners refers to this constantly triggered limbic system issue as “limbic system impairment.” I have mixed feelings about considering another “impairment” identity, but the overall explanation matches my experience exactly. It even matches when things got better a number of years ago, and I was on my feet for several years – and then when that changed again, to getting around not so much. It’s amazing to see all the pieces drop into place. It even explains my experience of sailing (I really will get back to this).

When I experienced healing, a number of years ago – going from a number of years of full-time electric wheelchair use to walking the woods, folk dancing, and driving across the country – I never could tell anybody why it changed. I could point to this and that, but I had no idea what really did the trick. In retrospect, because of a combination of life circumstances, and people, my limbic system had the opportunity to relax – and then things just got better. Some time after that, my mother died, and then 11 months later, my grandmother. I felt things begin to turn, after my mom died, and by a few months after we all lost my grandmother, things with my health were increasingly complicated. That’s when I quit driving, because of reflex issues mentioned in that post about “sailing as accessible transportation.” I was still having a good time – the Falmouth cutter sailing was in there, after the driving was done – and then the Lyme thing went crazy, knees, etc. etc.

Now, over 10 years after the beginning of the knees thing, the situation has had ups, and it’s had downs, with some kind of pattern that was not readily discernible. Lyme fits in there, and so does working on issues related to surviving, and recovering from, childhood and adult trauma. Health issues typically addressed by the brain retraining folks are all everyday parts of my experience, except for perhaps electromagnetic sensitivity, which I prefer not to think about. Now, with this new information about limbic system function, it’s like lining up a transparent drawing over the jumbled, chaotic picture of my life, and watching all the shapes line up, between the transparency and the hidden lines in the full picture. The transparent drawing is a key, and it actually fits.

As I said earlier, there are a couple of people who have developed protocols for addressing health issues using this new understanding of limbic system feedback loops. There are similarities between the two protocols, and one of those similarities is that they both say “practice this devotedly for six months, and then assess if it’s working.” Some people see dramatic changes a lot faster than that, and for others it takes more time. Surprisingly, about 80% of those who stick with it experience either substantial, or complete, recovery of their health. Of course some people are probably dropping out because they can sense that for them it’s not the right thing, or because they have inadequate support, or for any number of other reasons – those who have dropped out are not counted in the 80%. Still, it’s impressive.

So then there’s that six-month commitment – one of the practitioners says specifically not to undertake this in the middle of some big life change, like moving, or starting a new job. I’ve taken that to mean that it’s unrealistic to try to retrain your limbic system for calm while in the midst of uncertainty and unusual demands. While sailing is fun, and satisfying, it’s also completely filled with uncertainty and unusual demands! There is tension that goes with good seamanship, and successful arrival at the next safe harbor.

On the one hand, one of the techniques of brain retraining is to ask new and different things of your brain – funny exercises that shake brain patterns out of old habits are a part of the work. For example one gets to practice the Stroop test, reading words for colors that are printed in ink colors different from the words that are written, trying to read the words, or trying to say the colors, without reverting to the contradictory input. It’s surprisingly challenging. “Yellow” might be written in blue ink, and darned if you don’t say “blue” when you’re trying to say the written words!

When it comes to sailing, there are a broad variety of considerations; sailing is so multi-faceted. On the one hand, there are many opportunities for high concentration involving new, unexpected input, which is just perfect for brain retraining. Sailing at night, for example, is like this, with the completely different look and feel of both landmarks and waves. And the motion of the boat, day or night, is a constant new experience for body and mind. On the other hand, there are completely stressful events, including things like ships moving unpredictably, weather changes (anticipated or otherwise), anchors that might be set – or maybe not. And there is the rather unrelenting attention required: “situational awareness,” keeping track of traffic, weather, and navigation, and basic but crucial details, like not falling off the boat.

It’s a funny mix, sailing, and I think that at times the balance has come out, for me, on the positive side as far as support for limbic system calm, and resulting health improvements. Other times, it’s gone more the other way. Last year, for example, in 2013, I had a whole bunch of wonderful experiences. At the same time, the stressful side of things was heavily on my mind, and physically the whole undertaking was much more challenging than the previous year. With my current understanding, I can see the snowball effect of my worry about the various stresses. This is the vicious cycle/feedback loop that can happen with limbic system alert messages, which go to the cortex for checking, and come back to the limbic system with the message that yes, there is a problem. Uninterrupted, the limbic system goes further into alert mode, with further checking and intellectual confirmation, and physical difficulties that result from ongoing alert become progressively worse. Prompting more worries, and more alert… On it goes, not particularly comfortably.

Interestingly, “brain fog” is another of the potential outcomes of runaway limbic system feedback loops. Brain fog was another issue with which I struggled while sailing in 2013, and it was the source of the Cog Dys post from January, 2014. While I still think that issues discussed in that post are relevant, I am fascinated by the interconnections between limbic system function, and brain retraining, when it comes to the experience of brain fog.

Learning a new way of thinking, it turns out, actually changes the physical size and distribution of neurons in the brain. Folks working on recovery from strokes, and traumatic brain injuries, have been demonstrating a whole lot about this (see the work of Norman Doidge, referenced below, and Jill Bolte Taylor). It’s pretty amazing – what a person thinks, repeatedly, actually develops the physical size of neurons. When you change your thinking, say from stress about pain, to thoughts of wonderful experiences, even though there happens to also be pain going on, the neurons associated with triggering that pain become physically smaller. Wow.

Busting out sailing, for the first time in years, there is so much delight to be had, along with mental challenges and varied experience; the combination can make for a lot of limbic system calm, and a lot of healing. I came home from seven months of sailing in 2012 in pretty good shape. That next winter, the wheelchair seen in occasional photos became a place to pile things up in the house. I didn’t hike all that far, but inside the house and outside to the yard, with places to lie down, was working out pretty well. When we launched the boat in 2013 I didn’t really want to leave, but felt like it was somehow important. And in fact, it was important: sailing into Gouldsboro, and Belfast; so many wonderful visits, up and down the coast; and all those whales, from Cape Cod to Maine. But I lost a bunch of ground, physically. No more piling stuff up on the wheelchair for months, and back to needing a good bit more help, once I got home.

Presently, about three months into a daily practice of brain retraining, there is positive change. It’s got potential. We do plan to launch the boat – I really want to see how that junk rig works – but I haven’t been in such a hurry. Now that there’s been time to become familiar with this new brain practice, it should be possible to carry it on board. But in the meantime, the mental challenges of a new rig and everything else we’ve been up to, right here at home, have been just perfect.

So we’ll see what happens, on all fronts…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brain Retraining Resources

Programs:

Ashok Gupta http://www.guptaprogramme.com/ This one has a really coherent explanation of how limbic system feedback loops work. That explanation is included in the introductory videos that are free on YouTube. The order of the videos is jumbled up – you can go from one to the next, in order, by finding the appropriate title on the page at this link: (The presentation starts with session 1, part one, which is probably all the way down at the bottom of the page.) https://www.youtube.com/user/GuptaProgramme/videos?sort=dd&shelf_id=0&view=0 Or you can sign up for free links through the Gupta Program website. In exchange for receiving some of their e-mails, you get links for the full presentations all in order.

Annie Hopper http://www.dnrsystem.com/ There are online videos here too, though they are not the actual beginning of her DVD program. This program is not as focused on meditation, and “supportive services” are particularly well developed. She also has quite a full schedule of in person programs available in various parts of North America and now in Europe.

Neither the Gupta nor the Hopper program is “perfect,” to my mind, but each includes an abundance of information, tools, and techniques for developing limbic system calm, and thus overall healing. Both are effective in themselves, and as resources for understanding the considerations and developing one’s own approach.

Neuroplasticity books/websites:

Norman Doidge
book: The Brain That Changes Itself
website: http://www.normandoidge.com/normandoidge.com/MAIN.html
YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibpbkV7xc24
A YouTube search for Norman Doidge brings up a number of interesting presentations.

Jill Bolte Taylor
book: My Stroke of Insight
TED talk: http://www.ted.com/talks/jill_bolte_taylor_s_powerful_stroke_of_insight
This is not strictly about limbic systems and brain retraining – but it’s an impressive and fascinating piece of work about brain process and experience, and healing.

Lissa Rankin http://mindovermedicinebook.com/videos/ This page has four videos – I found the last one particularly helpful on the limbic system subject.

Book list (many authors) from Annie Hopper http://www.dnrsystem.com/resources.html

There’s a whole lot more out there, available by following the Google trail for related terms, as well as references and introductory videos and text in the Gupta and Hopper website materials…

[A follow-up to this post, “Brain Retraining On Board,” appears in October 2014, and can be found here: http://sailingauklet.com/2014/10/26/brain-retraining-on-board/ ]

Steering Rehab, part 3: the rudder stop

24 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by in the boat

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Having made it this far in the steering rehab process (see previous two “Steering Rehab” posts), we are left with the issue of the rudder stop. The rudder stop prevents this:
IMGP6172

After our first launch in 2012, and then a week or so at the dock getting things in order, a friend and I took the boat for its first sail, for a few hours in the Connecticut River. This was lovely. As we went along, we noticed a little bit of sticking when the tiller was all the way over, but at first it was mild. Then there was one of those moments when you really, really wish the boat would turn more than it is, and the tiller was put over solidly to one side. There it stayed. We thought maybe a stick from the river had become jammed, and we spent some time fussing with a boat hook, reaching over to try to clear whatever was going on. This problem of sticks, or who knows whatever else, jamming in the rudder is one of the big reasons why an easily accessible transom-hung rudder is preferable (for me anyhow) – the underneath rudder is the only thing about the Glasshouse Chebacco design that I have wished, from the beginning, was different. Anyway, there we were. We had launched the boat on April 20, and the river was still quite cold, so neither of us was in any hurry to jump in. We made many tries at the tiller, but felt that further force was more likely to break something than to resolve the problem.

Shortly after the rudder first jammed, and we started sailing in uncontrollable circles, we had put down the anchor and lowered the mainsail. We were already in back of a small island in the river, so it was a great spot to stop and consider, held by the anchor and thus avoiding problems from the current. When it became clear that we could not get the rudder unstuck, we furled the mizzen sail and resorted to the motor. With the electric Torqeedo on the back of the boat, steering by turning the motor sharply to one side, it was possible to overpower the stuck rudder and to steer the boat in a relatively straight line. Back we went to the dock, which was fortunately not terribly far away, at about a half a mile.

Tom Potter, the builder of the boat, kindly made a trek a couple of days later, from Narragansett Bay to Deep River, Connecticut, to figure it all out. We took the boat around the corner to the boat ramp, steering with the motor once again overpowering the rudder, and in he waded (in April!), tools in hand. Fortunately the giant crowbar was not necessary. But it did take some good, solid pulls on the rudder itself to get it unstuck. There were no foreign objects… the rudder was simply jammed against the slope of the hull.

This particular incident resolved just fine, but it sure wasn’t something that I wanted to have happen again at a bad moment. Before final departure from that dock we added some pieces of wood, screwed down to the cockpit sole to make a stop, so the rudder could no longer turn far enough to get stuck against the hull. Conveniently, the original arrangement at the top of the stock included a seized on wooden piece, that was originally there to support the tiller at the correct angle for the autopilot. This provided something for those additional pieces of wood to bear against, to limit the rudder’s swing. This entire “stop” arrangement is the bit that has needed to be redone, since the recent changes to the stock/tiller connection have made the earlier system unworkable.

An alternative to this stop arrangement in the cockpit would be fastening shaped wood pieces to the underside of the hull, on either side, that the rudder itself would bump against without sticking. However, that approach has its own complications: drag while sailing, bottom-painting obstacles, and being hard to check underway, as well as requiring drilling holes in a perfectly good, waterproof hull. I haven’t been so excited about that idea.

On the other hand, the cockpit rudder stop arrangement is complicated because of the question of how to fasten the wood piece that goes onto the stock, without drilling holes in the stock. Because of the strain on the wooden stock when sailing, I’m unwilling to take the chance of weakening it with significant holes, especially for bolts that would be heavy enough to secure the stop (my apologies for these words that are so similar). In the previous version, there was the longer stop, caulked and lashed to the stock with seizing, with a tiny pair of pins to prevent slipping. Now, with the tiller clamp in place, there’s not enough room to feel like the same thing would work – the stop block would be too short, and likely to twist.

As Theo and I commiserated on this situation, she came up with the suggestion of “coopering” – making a tiny barrel around the stock, which would grip the stock firmly by being compressed around it with something along the lines of hose clamps. The shaping of the pieces is pretty much the same as the technique for building a round, hollow spar – like a barrel. This idea seemed intriguing, and likely to be sturdier than simply fastening on a shaped chunk of wood, or two, with hose clamps or outer bolts. Theo disappeared into the workshop with some pieces of doug fir and a block plane, and we ended up with this:

IMGP6136

IMGP6137

IMGP6138

The cutout area, on the lower half of the “barrel,” is the section that will swing above the comparatively smaller, wedge-shaped stop that will be screwed down to the cockpit sole. The intact part of the lower barrel will, in theory, be sturdy enough to prevent the rudder from swinging beyond the point where the barrel contacts the wedge. This will stop the whole works at a point where the rudder is a comfortable margin short of being able to jam against the hull.

IMGP6250

For the final installation, rather than using a hose clamp we are going to try stainless wire, tightened with a nifty gadget called a ClampTite tool. The end result should be both elegant and less bulky than a hose clamp, along with doing away with the hazards of hose clamp rough edges in such a high-traffic area, or piles of rigging tape. For more on how the ClampTite works, see http://www.clamptitetools.net/ and, for a video demonstration, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBhkp-DZMrE (As always, I’m not receiving anything for mentioning these links.)

Presently, the barrel section is in the paint shop. Next week it will be clamped/wired, with dolfinite, to the stock, and then the wedge piece can get sorted out. In the meantime, the various other projects will be getting their turns: drogue storage, the new mainmast, and further work on rigging the sails.

There’s a lot of new stuff to test on this boat, when it goes back in the water! I’m optimistic, and at the same time rather full of suspense…

[A photo of the completed rudder stop installation will be added here, after all the parts are in place.]

Steering Rehab, part 2: tube worms, and tiller angle

21 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by in the boat

≈ Leave a comment

IMGP4676

Now the keel has been rehabbed, where the pintle that supports the rudder bolts to the wood, and the rudder has been reinstalled. Before that reinstallation we also added copper sheet to the lower part of the inside of the rudder tube. This was to address the serious collection of unusual marine growth within that cavity. Tube worms! Looking inside that closed space, after taking the rudder out, felt like something to do with a National Geographic special. Quite a few mussels too, and some barnacles, none of this good on a wooden structure that is ordinarily completely inaccessible. (See photo above.)

Because we are using ePaint for antifouling, we couldn’t just paint the inside of that well. ePaint uses reactions with UV light in order to work, and that’s a dark spot. Regular antifouling would have been an option, but would not have been accessible for new coats in the future. So we got some soft copper sheet and, thanks to Theo again, and some intricate cutting and folding, that area is now lined with copper. It’s bedded in Dolfinite, which was its own huge challenge. Suzanne, who did the dolfinite part, said “put this picture on the blog, and tell them that I was singing ‘what I did for love…'” Which she was.
IMGP5506
(You’d think this was an ad for dolfinite, but it’s not – we just like the dolphin picture (as well as the product). As always, I am not receiving anything for mentions of particular materials, or anything else, in this blog.)
IMGP5512
At least we get some laughs, but it really was a pesky job. Still, it feels worth it – it’ll be good to not have to worry about a worm farm in there, and potential rot of that part of the hull. If somebody reading this is planning to build one of these Chebacco boats, and to use it for more than short stints in the water, it would be a LOT easier to do something about this during construction…
IMGP5520

Once the copper was sorted out, and the rudder back in place, the tiller “clamp” went on, along with the tiller. There was an issue about getting the tiller to sit at the correct angle for the autopilot, and doing this without tearing up the clamp – during installation, paint was inadvertently scraped to bare wood in just a few rounds of fussing with the tiller. Addressing this issue involved a screw and washer on each side of the tiller strap spacers, and a little metal shield for the clamp. As I said in the previous post on this steering subject, we now have a fantastic conversation piece; in this particular part of the process, we’ve had some good fun with the idea of the tiny little armor outfit, available for sailing gnomes…
IMGP5912
IMGP5913

All of this steering/rudder work has been going on gradually for months. The rudder even got several coats of bottom paint while it was off and so easy to work on in the heated shop, and the aft edge of the keel got its own turn with antifouling before the rudder went back on. This brings us to the present, as far as the steering rehab, where we are now working on the rudder stop. The next post will talk about that process.

Steering Rehab, part 1: rudder/tiller connection

19 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by in the boat

≈ 2 Comments

IMGP4560
When the boat and I came home last fall, the rudder/tiller connection was showing signs of serious distress. Looking into this, and repairing it, led to addressing not only the rudder/tiller connection, but other parts of the steering system as well.

The steering system, as designed for the Glasshouse Chebacco, is pretty basic. A wooden rudder, bolted to a wooden stock (what would probably be called a “shaft” if it wasn’t a boat steering part) of about 2 inches in diameter, with a bolt crossways through the top of that wooden stock, to connect the stock to stiff metal straps from the tiller. This is a low-tech way to address the subject, meant to be more accessible for homebuilders. In hindsight, knowing the kind of use to which I was hoping to put the boat, a more involved design and construction method probably would have been more appropriate from the beginning. Hindsight is so clear!

The more usual system for this type of inboard rudder involves a metal stock, attached metal “fingers” where the blade of the rudder is going to go, and then the blade built out of wood or whatever else, attached to the stock and that metal frame. Because I had gotten the “sailboat parts” from somebody else (who converted his Glasshouse Chebacco to a motor tugboat), I already had a Chebacco rudder built to the original design. So that’s what we’ve been working with.

Last fall, once we had the rudder off of the boat, it was an option to build a new one, metal frame and all; in the end, doing that probably would have been more efficient, but that wasn’t clear at the time. As it is, there has been wood restoration at the lower back end of the keel, under the fitting that holds the bottom of the rudder, as well as pretty involved work to restore the top of the stock, and to work out a system better than the original tiller bolt, that will still allow removal of the rudder without having to tear the wood apart.

In addition, this boat has had problems with the rudder jamming against the hull, if turned too far by either human or waves. So there’s a rudder stop, at the meeting of the stock and the cockpit sole. Adding to the agenda this past winter, because of the change in the tiller connection the rudder stop has also needed to be reworked. The whole business is not yet completely finished (yup, it’s now summer!), but the good news is that if we floated the boat tomorrow, we could actually steer it as it is right now.

Last fall, once the boat was in the driveway and the trailer up on blocks, the rudder was taken off and into the shop, and the whole process was begun. Removing the rudder involved first removing the fitting that keeps the rudder from dropping down. The news that was hidden underneath that fitting wasn’t as bad as the top of the stock, but it wasn’t great either:
IMGP5261

The fitting is funny – instead of a rudder “shoe” which would be bolted on to the bottom corner of the keel, so that its special socket would hold the bottom of the metal stock, the arrangement on this boat uses a pintle – an upward pointing spike that is ordinarily part of a rudder hinge.
IMGP5383

The bottom of the rudder, where the stock ends, has a vertical hole which fits over that pintle. The stock passes up through the boat in a rectangular “rudder tube” that comes up to the cockpit sole, where there is a piece of 1/2 inch thick plastic sheet with a hole in it, that forms the bearing that supports the upper part of the stock in its turning motion for steering the boat. (You can see this “bearing” in the very first photo at the top of this post.)

It might not make sense to go through all this description, except for that some readers might be here for the boat details – and rudder systems, for me, have been a long mystery. If nothing else, through this winter of steering rehab I have at least quadrupled my understanding of rudder systems! Maybe those systems have been the same kind of mystery for some other folks as well, so here we go.

In a boat with a rudder off the stern – like both the Falmouth cutter and the Peep Hen – connecting the tiller to the rudder is not a big deal. There is no stock, just an upper part of the rudder itself, with wood or metal pieces that make a sandwich for connecting the top of the flat rudder and the tiller, and some bolts to hold it all together. If you don’t like how it’s set up, it’s easy enough to strengthen it. We did this on the Peep Hen.

But in a boat that carries its rudder underneath the hull, rather than attached to the back on the transom, things get more complicated. You have to have a stock (the shaft from the rudder, up through the boat, to the tiller), which needs to be basically round. (Ours is slightly oval, which is its own complication.) Then at the top of the stock there is the question of how to attach the tiller, which is a giant lever that puts great strain on that stock/tiller connection. On a metal stock, one way this connection can be handled is by using a metal cap with either flat spots on the stock and inside the cap, or some kind of key so that everything turns together. That would be so nice!

When we first launched the boat in 2012, and eventually got sailing, after a couple of weeks that included some heavier sailing conditions the original bolt arrangement wasn’t looking so sturdy. There was play where it shouldn’t be, and the hole in the wood was “wallowing,” becoming wider as the metal pin worked at the edges of the hole. In to Narragansett Bay, and consulting with the builder and a machinist he works with… adjustments were made, with a new, bigger, shouldered pin, and a slightly bigger but more closely fitting hole. We all declared it good enough for the moment, and off I went, with a couple of wrenches for occasional tightening.

This held up perfectly well through the remaining 5 1/2 months of sailing in 2012, and for most of the four months last year – two trips from Connecticut to Maine, one of them almost to Canada. But by the time I was back to Gloucester, MA last year, I went to snug the bolts again, and an odd bit of wood pushed up about an eighth of an inch, right out of the top of the stock. No more tightening! Fortunately I was quite near to our haul out point, and things held together for that last week or so.

Opening things up, here’s what we saw:
IMGP4641

IMGP4654

This had been, after all, two heavy seasons of sailing after that initial “good enough” fix. It held up pretty well, considering! Now the task was to make a connection that would last.

My original hope was for a metal cap to fit over the wood, so the pin connecting the tiller could go through holes in the cap. This might have been possible, though complicated to make, and to fit snugly to the stock. If the stock was made thick enough to adequately support a bigger metal connection, then the rudder would not be removable, as the larger stock end would not pass through the hole in the bottom of the boat. We could have gone with a smaller metal cap, but the arrangement was not inspiring of confidence, especially with the image of the deteriorated original so freshly in mind.

Fortunately Theo, as I’ve mentioned somewhere before, is a high-end woodworker – an artist and sculptor who does assistant work for me a couple of days a week as her “day job.” I couldn’t be more blessed, and over these last few years her work time here has been devoted more and more specifically to woodworking. Taking on the question of the rudder/tiller connection, with the desire for the rudder to be removable without destruction, she came up with a unique solution. We have been calling it a “clamp.” I have no idea what the proper term would be.

IMGP4981

In order to make this connection really tight, first the top of the stock was repaired, with additional wood laminated on with epoxy, and then shaped. Then small wedges were added to the upper bit of the stock, to create a shallow valley on each side. The “clamp” has corresponding wedge shapes that lock into those valleys when the whole thing is bolted together.
IMGP4772
IMGP5245

A bronze “saddle,” bent at a local machine shop, goes over the top of this to provide a sturdy pair of holes for the pin that holds the tiller straps. The pin has been machined with shoulders that match the saddle, so tightening the pin will tighten the tiller straps without crushing the wood. Lucky for us, Suzanne’s dad, Henri, has a big metal lathe in his cellar, and the skills to use it! His work shows up quite a bit, here and there on the boat.
IMGP5051

There is undoubtedly a better, more efficient, way to have solved this tiller connection problem (besides the aforementioned starting over and building a new rudder with a metal stock). But we couldn’t think of it, so now we have a fantastic, functional, and sturdy conversation piece, ready for testing, right there in the middle of the cockpit. And the rudder is indeed removable, hopefully to be used this way for many years.
IMGP5906(the pin in this photo has not yet been trimmed to length)
Additional photos of this project can be seen here: http://smu.gs/1hn0kDE

Next up: copper in the rudder tube, to discourage the (no pun intended) tube worms!

Jordan Series Drogue, part 2: design for AUKLET

13 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by in the boat

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

seriesdroguepic[1] (photo: oceanbrake.com)

The overall description of a Jordan Series Drogue (JSD) is included in the previous drogue post, from July 3, 2014. Now, here are design details related specifically to AUKLET. This includes the specs for the drogue itself, the arrangement for attaching the drogue to the boat when deployed, and a workable system for stowage. (This post is a little long, but it’s all written, and it seems silly to artificially divide it up.) First, the drogue itself.

The standard table for calculating drogue specs does not go down to boats the size of AUKLET, whose fully loaded displacement approaches 4000 pounds. The table begins at 10,000 pounds, and goes up from there. However, Roger Taylor’s MINGMING, loaded for cruising, comes in at about 2000 pounds, and he has had a successful experience in severe storm use of his JSD. It has to be mentioned that, due to an incorrect knot and resulting chafe, he did lose this drogue partway through that first big test. Where he talks about this experience, in the book MINGMING and the Art of Minimal Ocean Sailing (pp 327-331), he concludes that the drogue functioned beautifully, regardless of the problem that he had with the knot. Reading the story, that sounds quite true, and as he says in the book, the knot issue is easily avoidable. His second drogue experience, described in MINGMING and the Tonic of Wildness (pp 63-73), was also interesting, though complicated by the issue of difficult retrieval. Regardless, based on his experiences in his smaller and lighter boat, I have felt good about working up from the specs that he shared.

The first big design questions are the number of cones and diameter of the line to which they are attached. Roger Taylor used 87 cones, having extrapolated from the standard table, and then, happily, having had the chance to check this directly with Don Jordan (designer of the Jordan Series Drogue) who concurred with this number. Don Jordan has since sadly passed away, but he left us all lots of information with which to continue onward. Roger Taylor chose to put his drogue together with cones on 5/8 inch braided nylon, acknowledging that this was overbuilt – being the size recommended for boats displacing 10,000 pounds – but definitely sturdy.

For further guidance, since I was planning to purchase a commercially built drogue, I had the opportunity to ask the folks who make them. One builder suggested 1/2 inch braided nylon, the other 5/8 inch. Interestingly, the builder who suggested the lighter line suggested 90 cones, and the builder who recommended the heavier line suggested 75. This smaller number for lightweight boats was arrived at through discussions that this particular builder had had with Don Jordan, specifically on the subject of JSDs for smaller boats, but it turns out that nobody, at least nobody known to that builder, has tested the smaller number of cones in a substantial storm.

Since Roger Taylor’s version has been tested successfully with 87 cones, and MINGMING is smaller/lighter than AUKLET, I decided to go with 90 cones. Also staying conservative, I chose 5/8 inch line. I ended up choosing the builder in England, Roddy Coleman at http://www.oceanbrake.com, partly because the price was better than the other folks’, even with shipping from England, and partly because he was already familiar with making bridles suitable for connection to attachment plates, and had a price readily available for doing it, which demonstrated to me that this was indeed routine for their shop. They also have a rollup storage bag available, which seemed like a really good idea. Roddy and I settled on those combined, conservative specs, of 90 cones and 5/8 inch braided nylon, with the standard recommended lengths for the section with cones, the long pennant, and the bridle legs.
This put the measurements at:
bridle legs (2.5 x transom width) = 15 feet each
pennant = 21 meters or 69 feet
90 cones at 20 inches apart = 150 feet, plus an additional bit for eye splices at each end, for attachment to the pennant at one end, and to 15 pounds of chain at the end farthest from the boat, to keep the drogue underwater when deployed.

Now it’s a few weeks later, and the completed outfit is here in Holyoke.
IMGP5946

Here’s about what it would look like in its special storage rollup, except that the nearby tail end on ours has an eye splice:
droguebag1[1] (photo: oceanbrake.com)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Attaching the Drogue to the Boat

Then there is the question of attachment to the boat, which has been the most complicated part of this project to figure out. Some folks handle this connection by leading the plain bridle ends, with chafe protection, to cleats at the stern quarters. Others put eye splices with heavy metal thimbles on the ends of the bridle, and attachment plates bolted to the back of the boat, for connection with shackles. This is the version that I like, because it avoids the problem of chafe.

One of the biggest challenges in setting up the shackled version is sorting out the attachment plates. Roddy at Oceanbrake has chainplates available for this use, but they are too big for my small boat. Looking at coming up with something more locally meant figuring out what was appropriate in terms of width, length, and thickness. That took some doing! Related to this is the question of what shackles to use, and in the end the shackle size helped to determine the chainplate answer. Roger Taylor said that he scavenged 1/4 inch thick bronze shroud chainplates from a large boat, fastened with three 1/2 inch bolts, but he didn’t mention the other dimensions.

As it turns out, as near as I’ve been able to figure, the determining factor for the chainplate decision is indeed the shackles. From an Internet discussion, I gleaned that each attachment point should be sized, at minimum, for a working load of one half the displacement of the boat. (See this link: http://www.boatdesign.net/forums/boat-design/calculation-chainplate-series-drogue-40064.html) So that’s 2000 pounds, as a bare minimum safe working load for AUKLET’s drogue attachment. Suzanne suggested, based on a conversation she’d had with an engineer friend, that the shackles should really be American-made – as in, not from China, because of irregularities in both quality and size in these sorts of Chinese products. That narrowed the field, and I closed in on Crosby shackles, and next, to their list of available sizes, configurations, and metal types. The Crosby website itself proved difficult, but the following company (from whom, as always, I am receiving nothing for posting this) helped to make more sense of the possibilities: http://www.bairstow.com/crosby-shakles-s/1871.htm
Then the most helpful item that turned up, for me, was this write-up on the subject of shackles and their use: http://practicalmaintenance.net/?p=766 After that, for a specific shackle, it was back to this one: http://www.bairstow.com/v/vspfiles/pdf/specs/G209A716.pdf This page also includes a general table of shackle specs.

In dealing with shackles, it’s very important to note that the “size” of the shackle is NOT the pin diameter. The pin diameter is actually larger than the labeled shackle size, which is based on the diameter of the bow part of the shackle. So in thinking about what size shackle to actually order, it’s important to look up the pin size that will fit. It’s annoying, to receive shackles that don’t fit the hole you have in mind – I’ve done this before!

Based on all of that information, using alloy shackles that would fit in a 1/2 inch hole, we could have a maximum safe working load of 2.66 metric tons, which comes out to 5,866 pounds. That’s overdone, but consistent with nice heavy 5/8 inch line. And very relaxing. Also, that working load figure is for a straight line pull. As discussed in the “practical maintenance” article linked above, if the pull is from a 90° angle, the safe working load for a shackle is half of the stated figure. This isn’t likely to happen in this situation, given the overall bridle arrangement, but it’s nice to know that if it did, the shackle would be up to it. The other nice thing about this size shackle is that the opening, where the pin goes, is just wide enough to fit over the 5/8 inch line and thimble where the shackle needs to connect to the bridle.

The next consideration is determining the thickness of the chainplate that should go together with this shackle, and finding what’s actually available. This entire design process is a little bit like origami – you try out one parameter, see how it fits with the others, try out what works for something else, and work your way back to make them all go together. Design necessity, and size availability, for each individual part, and then for the completed whole, all need to match up.

Along the way in this process I went through trying out the possibility of a 1/8 inch thick chainplate intended for sailboat shrouds, but it seemed flimsy for the job. Then I read that if a shackle is connected to a metal bar, the bar thickness must be at least one half the diameter of the shackle pin, to prevent deforming the bar under load. Since a shackle with a 1/4 inch pin would not be strong enough for the proposed load – and isn’t even available in high quality shackles shown in the above links – the chainplate would definitely need to be thicker.

For a while I contemplated having chainplates made. Not living presently near a nice, working shoreline (Narragansett Bay would be different!) this was not simple. Looking into metals, with thoughts of making it here, it was even less simple – load ratings are dependent not only upon what the metal is made of, but how it is treated for hardness and who knows what else. I definitely didn’t want to be out in a storm somewhere wondering if the chainplates were going to crack because they were the wrong particular metal.

Back to following Roger – thank goodness for his work! – the field narrowed to 1/4 inch thick chainplates originally produced for sailboat shrouds. Availability narrowed the field the rest of the way – I’ll bet that a nice consignment shop by the ocean would have something workable, but again, here we are. And the advantage of new is that you don’t have to worry about possible metal fatigue from previous use. In bronze, you could likely see any problem, as it deforms before breaking, but stainless could go from looking just fine to cracking in pieces. Anyway, here we are, still, in Holyoke… no marine consignment shops in sight.

So it was back to the online marine catalogs. As it turns out, there aren’t a whole lot of choices. In order to have 1/4 inch thick plate, you then get 1/2 inch holes – one for the shackle, and five for bolts. At least we know that once bolted on, this plate is definitely not going anywhere! The other dimensions are fixed at 1 1/2 inches x 14 inches. There was a question about getting the kind of chainplate with an angle at the end, to accommodate the angle of the bridle. But doing a mockup of the bridle demonstrated that the narrowing of AUKLET’s stern actually made the straight chainplate more correct. There was in the end only one choice available (that I could find), which is made by Schaefer, and fortunately it looks good.
IMGP5361

IMGP5358

The chainplates are now installed, with 1/4 inch x 2 inch aluminum backing plates. This is material that I happened to have already, but I like it anyhow. Somewhere I read – maybe Don Casey? – that mixing metals for a backing plate is not such a bad thing, because it will only corrode if water gets in there, and if water is getting in to the back of your installation, you want to know. So with an aluminum backing plate, the white corrosion will be noticeable if there is any problem. With the aluminum at 1/4 inch thick, it feels hefty enough for the job.
IMGP5942

Something to keep in mind with store-bought chainplates is the amount of material that is left around the hole that is intended for shackle attachment. With 1/2 inch holes, like we have, set back 1/2 inch from the end in a chainplate that is 1 1/2 inches wide, there is no problem. At the end of the plate and on both sides of the hole, there is 1/2 inch of material left. But for a bigger boat, another individual on the Internet installed chainplates with 5/8 inch holes (actually custom-made) and then started to worry about the much narrower amount of material left between the hole and the end of the chainplate. Engineers with whom he was consulting confirmed that this was not enough material to provide the strength required for the JSD for his boat. That discussion can be seen here (same link as the one included above): http://www.boatdesign.net/forums/boat-design/calculation-chainplate-series-drogue-40064.html
Commercially available larger chainplates also have the same problem. For some reason the manufacturers choose not to set the hole back a little further, which would help quite a bit. This is tricky, because the easily available larger rigging chainplates all seem to be done this way. It’s something to keep in mind, if one is setting up something like this for a bigger boat. The photo in the link above also shows the chainplate mounted horizontally – I would emphatically offer that, in my humble opinion, the chainplates should be mounted on the sides of the boat, so that the up-and-down motion of waves will be easily accommodated by the shackle.

It’s important to note that, as shown in the previously mentioned “practical maintenance.net” reference, something needs to be in place to keep each shackle centered on the chainplate. Some folks weld spacers onto the chainplate, though other folks talk about that there could be some concern with affecting the hardness and load rating of the chainplate in the process of heating it for welding. Stacked washers are also acceptable, and somewhat simpler. In our arrangement, three washers on each side of the chainplate comfortably fill the gap (see photo above). To make them easier to manage during repeated installation, we are sticking each stack of three together with a little bit of caulk in between the washers.

Here’s the starboard drogue attachment plate, and Suzanne cleaning off the last of the caulk just after she and Theo got the whole thing bolted in place. Thanks to both of them – and to Theo for the great photo!
IMGP5944

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stowing the Drogue

Once the drogue and its attachment to the boat have been worked out, there is the question of storage when not in use. Ideally, one can find an arrangement that allows for the bridle to be already shackled to the attachment plates, ready to go in case the whole thing is needed, and set up before venturing out where that might come up. For drogues that are fastened to the boat using bridle lines led to reinforced cleats, this isn’t such an issue (the issues in that situation come later, with potential chafe). But with the shackles to attachment plates arrangement, it’s not going to be so easy to reach over the back of the boat and attach everything while underway. At the same time, once they are in place but not being used, it’s good to have the bulk of the drogue stored safely out of the way, at the same time as still being readily available. All that is a tall order, on a small boat!

In addition to these factors, if the drogue does get used it’s going to come back soaking wet, presumably while there is still sailing to be done in a certain amount of remaining wind. My experience with braided nylon dock line has been that it’s almost impossible to get this stuff to dry, even wet with fresh water, and never mind with salt. The drogue storage is going to need to take this into account too.

Latest thinking on the entire storage question has been a sealable opening into the port cockpit locker, with a plastic tub below. Originally I was thinking of a large deck pipe (screwed down metal fitting, over a hole into a locker, with a nice removable metal cap), like the oval kind for anchor line and thimbles, and a cover that could be taped closed. But if the drogue is set up ready to go, there are going to be two bridle lines needing to lead into that special opening in the side of the deck pipe cover, or else the entire length of the bridle lines will need to stay out somewhere in the cockpit. The deck pipe and cover could be modified to allow for including both bridle legs, but then there is the more serious problem: the deck pipe will be easy enough to tape closed when everything is dry – but being able to do that in a storm is highly unlikely, with wind and waves and everything soaking wet at the time of drogue deployment. That’s the last time in the world that you want an extra hole in the deck that could allow a whole lot of water into the interior of the boat.

Plan B is evolving into a 4 inch plastic deck plate with a threaded cover, mounted on the vertical face of the cockpit bench, so that the deck plate opens into the port cockpit locker. This would be arranged with a regular flat screw-in plate for closing things up completely, and an alternate plate that has had the middle cut out, and the cutout area replaced with a waterproof coated fabric sleeve. The drogue bridle can be passed through the sleeve into the locker, and then the sleeve can be lashed snugly around both lines. For deployment, the lashing can be undone, and the drogue, previously arranged in its tub, can be drawn out through that sleeve, without having to open the locker. This is still in development.

With stuff like this going on, besides the junk rig and the steering rehab, it’s abundantly clear why the boat is still in the driveway, even though it’s the beginning of July! But it’s really interesting working it all out, and I’m having a tremendous time being home for part of the summer (and berry season!) for the first time in three years. Last year we put in a bunch of time installing a big Whale bilge pump, and this year it’s the drogue. It’s funny to put so much work into something that will very possibly never be used – but the peace of mind feels worth every bit of the effort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IMGP6082 (3)

About Those Windows…

06 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by in the boat

≈ 2 Comments

Yesterday I received an e-mail from a friend who reads the blog, very politely asking if, with all these thoughts of drogues and junk rig, and sailing far enough out to make these things relevant, WHAT ABOUT THE WINDOWS?? He was much more delicate than that…

It is not, indeed, that I have neglected to think about this! Here is what I have learned, over time, and my process on the subject:

The windows are, almost for sure, made of Lexan. That’s the trade name; the actual material is polycarbonate. This is a lot stronger than Plexiglas (acrylic), and Plexiglas is a whole lot stronger than glass. A small test to confirm that the windows are actually polycarbonate has been in the works for a while – because just like my friend, I do indeed have concerns about the window issue. This test will likely be happening on Tuesday when Theo is here. (For information on determining the identity of plastic, see here: http://www.consultekusa.com/plasticidentificationchart.html ) The bottom line is, if you burn it, Plexiglas smells fruity, and Lexan smells like phenol, which is the smell of hot electronics, more or less. If you burn a known sample for comparison, it’s better – last week we got a piece of factory-labeled Lexan from the hardware store, and are looking forward to trying it out. We’ll be shaving a little curl off one of the boat windows to burn, for comparison to a curl off of the Lexan from the store, and then to a curl from a piece of Plexiglas. Ten minutes of high entertainment, getting to play with fire!

Earlier in my thinking about the window question, I was considering storm boards – plywood inserts to cover the windows in case of being caught out in a serious storm. I have been told by two different boat designers that with windows of this size made of a reasonable thickness of Lexan – 1/4 inch in this case – storm boards are really not necessary. One of the boat designers said, “to demonstrate this to yourself, you could take a hammer…” Seeing the look of alarm on my face, as I contemplated anybody taking a hammer to one of the windows of the boat, she said something about using a sample of Lexan in a frame. But the whole suggestion did make the point. She was quite confident that the result of such a test would be completely reassuring.

Another individual, who designs sailboats with large windows, said roughly the same thing, as far as the strength of Lexan, and talked about commercial fishing boats in Southeast Alaska. Those boats have windows bigger than AUKLET’s, and work in a region where fast-developing storms often have winds of hurricane force. Some of the folks up there laugh that farther south, storms like the ones that they have routinely are here given names… Their boat windows are frequently made of glass, and still, waves smashing out windows is not the problem that you hear about. A couple of friends who sail up that way, and whose boat has Lexan windows larger and closer to the water than AUKLET’s, have indeed had no problem (knock wood!) in many years of Southeast Alaska sailing, williwaws and all.

And then here, in the Northeast, there are all the powerboat folks, commercial and recreational, some of whom are out in very wild weather, with large-area windows. Actually, none of this serves to make me feel completely, totally relaxed about it – but it has done quite a bit to calm my concerns. Writing this does make me think that it would be interesting to get a piece of known Lexan, put it in a frame, and invite folks to take a sledgehammer to it. Like after seeing the video of a family going to great effort to capsize a Peep Hen (which required an adult hanging on the end of the mast to do it, and when finally achieved, the boat floated high on its side, taking on almost no water, and none through the open companionway) I would probably feel a lot better after watching Lexan stand up to the test. Maybe we could make a video, and post it here!

My friend who wrote yesterday also mentioned the concern of the large deck house – another issue that has also given me pause. Because, following the general rule, the best oceangoing sailboats have low deck houses to go with their tiny portholes. The boat designers I’ve talked with have been unconcerned about this as well, referring to both the sturdy construction in AUKLET, with the sides of the deck house extending down into the interior of the boat, as well as to the curved shape of the deck house (in plan view as well as the crowned top) and the small size of the boat. The small size of the boat has the effect of making it overall far sturdier than larger boats that are built with the same half-inch plywood materials. From an engineering perspective, it is my understanding that the small size advantage also draws on the same physics as the strength of an eggshell, having to do with the curves relative to the size of the object – eggshell or boat. At any rate, it was comforting to hear their perspectives.

Where deck house size and height really do make a significant difference is in upwind sailing ability. AUKLET is really the design of a “motor sailer,” in spite of the fact that I am using the boat primarily motorless. For beautiful upwind sailing you want much less wind resistance on deck, like so many of the lovely traditional sailboat designs. I should also note that the Glasshouse Chebacco does indeed sail upwind – not as perfectly as it might with a lower deck house, but making headway against both wind and seas. And does that with my less than perfect upwind rig… The difference is mainly noticeable sailing alongside elegant traditional Maine racers, who pass by in two tacks out of a harbor, when it takes me a few more. Still, the trade-off with the Glasshouse Chebacco is fine with me: giving up some upwind sailing ability, in exchange for comfort, interior light, solar heating, and good visibility for sailing from within the cabin, all feel well worth the exchange. With some extra time, and attention to working with the weather (along with staying well away from lee shores), regardless of the upwind abilities issue you can still sail quite a ways!

I know that there are stories out there about deck house failure, and window failure, in heavy seas. I am curious as to details, and my process of picking up relevant information is ongoing. In the meantime, the arguments that have been made by folks who are way more knowledgeable than myself, about both the windows and the deck house on AUKLET being up to the task, have felt like enough to make me feel okay about proceeding with this boat, including somewhat offshore.

However, it does remain an intriguing question. If evidence comes along that this should be rethought, I will most certainly be doing that, and adjusting plans accordingly. WRC, thanks for the question!

Jordan Series Drogue, part 1: why choose this?

03 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by in the boat

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

IMGP5946

There are a number of options for how to deal with seriously heavy weather at sea; I have lately settled on carrying a Jordan Series Drogue (JSD), as this feels like the best option aboard AUKLET. Getting this equipment sorted out has involved everything from the original choice of a JSD, to appropriate design for this particular boat, to the related subject of attachment plates, and where to get all of the various parts, as well as the drogue itself. Maybe we’ll never have occasion for the post about deploying it – that would be fine with me, and in the meantime I get to have a lot more peace of mind when on open water, too far out for a quick day’s run into a harbor when the forecast turns unexpectedly stormy.

This series of posts is going to include quite a number of references and links, and as usual I am not receiving anything for including those references in the blog. A ridiculous amount of time has gone into figuring out a specific drogue plan that feels both reliable and sensible, and then finding the materials to carry it out. It is my hope that by sharing these details, other folks who are interested might not have to spend quite as much time searching to come across the same parts and information. I also want to emphasize that I am neither a professional, nor any kind of certified engineer. This is not advice for anybody else – it is simply a recounting of what I have come up with for myself. If it’s helpful to others’ thinking on the subject, that’s great!

For starters, what is a Jordan Series Drogue, and why would one choose it?

“What” is the easy part of the question: a long length of line, as much as 200 feet, up to 300 feet or more for large boats, with small fabric cones, each of them 5 inches in diameter at the big end, woven into the line at intervals of 20 inches. There can be anywhere from 80 to close to 200 cones, depending on the size of the boat. This line with cones is attached to a “pennant” of some length that has no cones, between the boat and the drogue itself, and the pennant is connected by a bridle to the stern of the boat. The cumulative effect of the correct number of cones for a given boat is to reduce the movement of the boat during a storm to a slow drift of about one to 1 1/2 knots downwind. The hold of the drogue on the water keeps the stern facing into the waves, preventing broaching (turning crossways to the waves, and potentially being rolled), and the drogue also holds the stern down as the boat is lifted on a wave, preventing pitchpoling, or somersaulting of the boat over itself as the bow dives down. As mentioned above, there are several different approaches for managing storm situations – my interest in the Jordan Series Drogue has been an evolution.

Over many years, I have been a devoted follower of Lin and Larry Pardey; for those who are unfamiliar with their work, when it comes to storm tactics this means a parachute sea anchor, led on a bridle from the bow and the side of the boat. These are fantastic, tremendous heavy-weather tools. I carried one on board the Falmouth cutter, but never had occasion to use it. As I have been going farther out to sea in AUKLET, a parachute sea anchor was my first thought. But the reality of deploying a parachute sea anchor includes a line at the bow (not an easy trek aboard AUKLET in a storm), along with the bridle back to the middle of the boat. There are issues involving potential chafe on the lines, which must be attended to during use, and issues to do with adjusting both the bridle for correct boat orientation, and the length of the rode so that the parachute and the boat are in sync with each other in the crest or trough of their own respective waves, several waves apart. Adjustments, mid-storm, can be necessary for success, especially as the conditions of the storm develop and change over time. (This gear, whether parachute or JSD, is primarily intended for substantial storms, of some duration, with resulting large seas. Heaving-to remains my primary strategy for something like a quick moving front, or isolated large thunderstorm.)

One of the particular arguments for a parachute sea anchor that is led from the bow is that it keeps the bow to the waves, and the companionway away from the waves. I like that argument. Another argument for it is that other than for the occasional checking, it requires no active participation. There is no steering while the sea anchor is deployed. The boat is hove-to, and there is no necessity for constant exertion. On the other hand, most times when drogues off the stern are spoken of, it has been in the context of actively steering downwind, throughout a storm. In this active case, a drag device smaller than a parachute sea anchor – generally referred to as a drogue – is led off the stern to slow the boat, preventing the bow from nosediving into the next wave ahead. Steering is ongoing, often by hand, as autopilots are likely to struggle in these conditions. The steering is to ensure both that the boat continues on course overall, and that it does not turn crossways to the waves.

Steering throughout a long storm is absolutely not on my list of preferred activities! Besides being exhausting and unpleasant, that exhaustion can lead to hazards and potential bad outcomes. This is true even on a boat with crew, never mind for someone who is singlehanding. Since I was familiar only with the concept of drogue use that requires steering, I didn’t go further in considering them for storm management.

Then last year, reading more of Roger Taylor’s work about his travels in MingMing, it finally dawned on me that he was saying that when he deployed his Jordan Series Drogue in an enormous storm, he lashed his wind vane steering up out of the way. And once the drogue was deployed, Roger settled into his cabin for the duration. No steering! Not even any adjustments. He had attachment plates – heavy chainplates, leading aft – on the stern of the boat, to which the drogue bridle ends were shackled, and this arrangement completely took away the problems of chafe and related checking and adjustments. Wow. Added to this, because a Jordan Series Drogue is a long line of many, many tiny parachutes, the problem of being in sync with the waves also goes away, as the braking force is applied throughout different parts of more than one wave. Revolutionary.

This did leave the problem of the companionway facing the following seas. (Roger Taylor doesn’t have any problem with this issue, having changed his companionway to a watertight hatch.) I’m still not entirely relaxed about this question, but according to the writings by the JSD designer, Don Jordan, discussing both the many tests he did as well as reports received from users, and also according to writings of folks who have used it themselves in heavy storm situations, following seas running right into the companionway have not been a big problem. Don Jordan wrote a bit on the subject of explanations for why he thought this was turning out okay. His writings also confirm that this device is considered a “passive” heavy weather tactic, requiring no steering. Bingo.

The other reported problem for Jordan Series Drogues is difficulty in retrieving them. This is a noticeable issue. According to various reports, including from Roger Taylor, hand over hand it’s a terrible, long job, especially when the wind is still blowing moderately. It’s also important not to just wrap the part of the drogue that has the cones around a winch – some people have experienced enormous complications with overwraps, doing that, as the cones get tangled in the wrapping line. On the bright side, it works out fine (according to others’ accounts) to use one or two separate lines – dock lines or whatever – to a winch, with rolling hitches onto the JSD line, cranking in, switching the lines to the winch, etc. This could probably take some time, but folks with average capabilities have reported doing it in a half an hour. The most important thing is that when deploying the drogue, an extra line should be tied at the apex of the bridle, led loosely back to the cockpit, so that when it’s time to retrieve the drogue there is something to start with.

Searching for more recent remarks from Lin and Larry Pardey, the drogue retrieval issue was the biggest negative mentioned. Looking at all of the various factors, and options, their difficulties and their resolutions, I am feeling good about shifting my approach to the JSD. Work on this has been underway for a while now.

When I started writing this post, I had the silly idea that it was going to be all one entry. That would be a bit much, it appears! So I’ll leave it here, and begin again next time with how the design and boat modification have proceeded.

References:

the detailed technical report:
http://www.seriesdrogue.com/coastguardreport/

two sources of commercially made Jordan Series Drogues, with quite a lot of information on each site:
http://www.oceanbrake.com/
http://jordanseriesdrogue.com/

an extended drogue and sea anchor discussion at the Junk Rig Association:
http://jra.wildapricot.org/general_forum/592701?tpg=11