r2ak preparation progress

25 Thursday Apr 2019

Posted by shemaya in Race to Alaska/r2ak, the boat

This lovely drawing says it all. Thanks to Dave McDermott, who drew the picture, and to Chris Shelton, whose white pickup truck, with a little artistic license, is being shown. If all goes well, Chris and the boat will set out on May 6.

Boat transport related projects:

– Chris has gotten an electric brakes controller installed in his pickup truck.
– The boat trailer now has new tires, load range E, which is up a level from the previous set.
– Suzanne dug out the paperwork from when the boat and trailer went on truck scales a few years ago, and I was delighted to see that I had inverted the addition and subtraction for the weight of the empty trailer, in my memory, which means that the full load, boat and trailer, is actually around 4800 pounds. With the new tires, we are now well within a comfortable safety margin for the trailer load (the trailer is rated for 6000 pounds).
– Chris is planning to get new tires for his truck when he gets to Maine. He is also planning to drive up from MISSOURI to do this crazy trek… That’s some serious adventure spirit!

Still to go, for the trailer:
– squeezing lots of marine lithium wheel bearing grease through the special fittings on the hubs (bearings were inspected and repacked last year, and have only traveled about 20 miles since then)
– replacing the trailer’s electric brakes breakaway box. This activates the trailer brakes, if somehow the trailer disconnects from the tow vehicle while underway. That little box and its battery have been underwater one too many times during launches and retrieval, and have finally quit. The new box is going to have all its electrical surfaces coated with liquid electrical tape, holes drilled in the bottom of the box for drainage, and sealant put around the edges of the lid when it goes on. Theoretically, water will not go up into those holes, because of the trapped air. If nothing else, we might get one or two more dunkings out of it than the last one. Because of the tongue extension, and how deeply the trailer goes into the water, the submersion itself appears to be unavoidable.
– Doubling up the board we use across the bow to support the forward tiedown strap.

Boat projects:

Note: the rudder stock is actually completely vertical, and perpendicular to the deck – I have a mental block about getting good photos of this thing!

The lower part of the rudder stop, with the three dark screws, prevents the rudder from turning far enough to jam on the bottom of the hull, and has now been replaced – actually for the second time since the original got cracked during launching last year. Thank you Chipper Daley, for doing the wood shaping and drilling for this fussy part! In honor of the r2ak we redid the replacement version out of two layers of laminated marine ply, which thanks to Suzanne is now epoxy coated, painted, and reinstalled with dolfinite underneath. I was worried about the somewhat sharper corners on the latest version, and my toes in that rather constricted space, so we now have a foam cushion rounding off the edges. [Photo: Suzanne Jean]

For more about the rudder stop, see this post from 2014:
https://sailingauklet.com/2014/07/24/steering-rehab-part-3-the-rudder-stop/

– organizer bag for emergency gear
and for safety harness and tether. [Photo: Suzanne Jean]
These were a winter sewing project, and we’re happy to see them in place.

The story behind the safety harness/tether bag is that I do not habitually wear those – I tried doing it that way, but found that I “lost my edge” as far as caution about falling off the boat. So now I just use a tether during weather that means that even when one is attentive one might get tossed. But often when that kind of weather arises the equipment is inside the boat and unreachable with everything going on. Now it can be retrieved from the cockpit. I’m quite happy about this – I thank the r2ak for providing the inspiration for taking care of a number of these sorts of boat improvement projects.

– “Snag preventer” across the top of cabin cleats and the winch. Hopefully I’ll be adding a photo of this soon. It’s basically done: two eyestraps installed near the back corners of the cabin, and a piece of 2 inch webbing with clips on the ends and a buckle in the middle for tensioning, stretched over the offending snaggers, across from one side of the cabintop to the other. When in place, this will prevent lines from the mainsail being caught when the sail goes across the top of the cabin. This generally only happens when the wind and the waves are just so – usually tacking upwind in a short, boisterous chop. But when it does it’s not only annoying, requiring more energy and attention to hop up and prevent problems, but in a tight spot it can be a hazard, disrupting a smooth tack when it really matters, or hanging things up when gybing. Thanks again, r2ak – I’ve been meaning to do this for ages!

– anchor regalvanized (thank you Luke Tanner :-) [Photo: Luke Tanner]

– The depth sounder installation is a work in progress, being a task with several parts. The transponder is now mounted on the transom, and its long wire is threaded into the boat, across and through a ridiculously convoluted passage inside the stern, that involved a stiff piece of wire and both frustration and eventual celebration, and then a trip through the port cockpit locker, also involving challenges. The tricky thing about boat wiring is that you really must secure those wires. The picture below is the passage through the port cockpit locker, fastening onto existing wires, with a bonus view of drogue storage and its underway access.
This requirement for fastening includes when the wires pass through places that are not particularly accessible. (The odd plastic thing that shows in a couple of the photos below is the bilge pump, with its hose.) [Photo: Suzanne Jean] The heavy black coil is the excess transponder wire, which cannot be cut to length because of the custom connector on the end.

There is one more hole to drill for this task, and to coat with epoxy, but the worst of threading the transponder wire is done. The meter end is also now caulked in place, ready for wiring. That involved a 2 inch hole, and more epoxy.

All I can say is that I had better go sailing in this boat, after all this work!

Still to be done:
– tie down masts and sail bundle
– short anchor chain extension to be attached with C connector. The primary anchor rode on AUKLET, for the last several years, has been made up of 60 feet of 3/16″ chain, followed by 250 feet of 7/16″ “Brait” eight strand braided nylon. 3/16″ chain is not ordinarily used for anchors in this country; doing this is a French sailors’ trick, which I learned from my Alaskan friends, who picked it up from their friend from France. The theory is that 3/16″ chain is plenty strong enough for a moderate size boat, and if you have 60 feet of that lighter chain, it weighs as much as the ordinarily shorter length of 1/4″ (or 5/16″). But if you spread that weight over 60 feet, and you are only anchored in 20 feet of water, then you have a lot less weight to haul up all at once. Rather, you are collecting the first 40 feet of chain while only holding the weight of 20 feet at any given moment, which represents a major difference in hauling effort. To have adequate scope, you almost always let out the full 60 feet of chain, so you have the benefit of that weight for your anchoring, but much less work to pull it back up.

AUKLET’s chain had been getting a little rusty, and the anchor line in the first 40 feet or so was starting to show a bit of wear. If I had known that Luke was going to have this perfect galvanizing opportunity, I would have sent that chain to get regalvanized. As it is, an alternative solution last fall was to turn the anchor rode end-for-end, keeping the old chain generally unused, because it is now the very last bit of a long rode. A new 60 feet of chain was then spliced to the other end of the anchor line which was nice and fresh, and that new chain will be connected to the anchor.

I’m quite happy about this arrangement, because the anchoring depths in British Columbia and Alaska can be considerably more than here in New England. Now, there is not only 370 feet of rode, but the last section to go in the water is chain, which is a good place to put some additional weight, especially if one is anchoring in the kind of depths that might make all that length necessary. Last fall when we did this, we also replaced the basket under the chain pipe with a bigger one, so the whole business no longer overflows when the now larger pile of line and chain is fed down below deck. Swapping out those baskets sounds pretty insignificant, from a project perspective, but it was actually quite an undertaking because of the “cozy” location far inside that locker.

Meanwhile, I have had some concern about the small links of that 3/16″ chain where the anchor swivel attaches to it. I’ve wanted something more substantial for when the last chain link might be pulled sideways against the jaws of the swivel connection, especially when the anchor is dug in hard, and the wind or current changes. Unfortunately, a simple shackle connection between the anchor and chain jams up on the anchor roller, which means that the tapered swivel is a necessity, more for its shape than for the actual swiveling.

So this is our one more project about the anchor: to attach a short, 1 foot length of 5/16″ chain, to serve as a connector between the anchor swivel and the 60 feet of 3/16″ chain that does the bulk of the work. Again because it’s the Race to ALASKA, all of this has been getting attention. The only task left to go, for getting the anchor rode in order, is attaching that additional short length of chain. The anchor will be stowed separately for the trip across the country, but it’s a small matter to put it back on, once we are reunited in Port Townsend.

The boat also has another anchor the same size as this one, also with a substantial chain and line rode, carried both for additional anchoring during storms, as well as in case the first one is lost. Then there’s another lighter anchor with 200 feet of line and a shorter chain for more routine two anchor arrangements. Fortunately, those are not on the task list, but they seem worth mentioning so nobody thinks that we are setting out with only one!

Other Preparations

Janine, the other onboard member of Team AUKLET, came for a lovely visit last week. Decked out for projects!

Though we have been meeting by video call to make plans for the trip, we had not met in person, so this was a special treat. Along with plenty of really good conversation, we also sorted out clothing, got the masts positioned on the top of the boat, and actually had some time on the water. This visit coincided with the ideal high tide for moving the float from its winter to its summer position, and it was wonderful to have Janine’s help. Joanne came over from Belfast (Maine) for the fun, which it was. The float-moving process involves a substantial amount of time sitting around waiting for the tide between stages – perfect for enjoying good company! [Photo: Suzanne Jean] [Photo: Joanne Moesswilde]
[Photo: Suzanne Jean]

Luke came over that same afternoon with the anchor, and Phil Brown, and Brenda and their granddaughter Ellie, also showed up, with Luke and Phil going after rocks out by the float. The rocks have nothing whatsoever to do with the r2ak – more to come on that, when we are not completely r2ak focused!

Other preparation odds and ends are also progressing:
– organizing food and beginning to pack
– turning the minivan into a camper for the cross-country trip. This is a substantial project, involving far more time and production than is properly represented by that one little line. [Photo: Suzanne Jean]

– I got a tetanus shot for the first time in decades, in honor of this event and its remote location… I’m not necessarily happy about having chosen to do that, but it sure did make things relaxing when I got an ugly scrape the other day!
– charts are finally actually ordered
– foul weather gear upgrade, in honor of sailing in the rain forest. Many thanks to Fisheries Supply, in Seattle, for their generous racer discount, and to the r2ak organizers for setting that up. [Photo: Suzanne Jean]

The plan:

Everybody’s enthusiasm (and participation!) is making such a difference in this project, and I am enormously grateful to all. For a couple of reasons it is still somewhat up in the air about whether this will go forward, but we have all chosen to carry on with preparations in hopes that it will work. A go/no go decision is scheduled for May 1, which is coming up fast! If all goes well, Chris will set out with the boat/trailer first, and a few days later Suzanne and I will follow. Suzanne decided that making the whole drive across the country is something she feels like doing (Tim, I heard that!) So Janine will meet us in Port Townsend, before Suzanne catches a plane home. All the moving parts are a bit daunting, but it does seem to be coming together.

I will keep everybody posted… We have a Team AUKLET Facebook page, and Janine is looking at setting up a Team AUKLET Instagram for photos once everything gets going; I’ll post that last once we have it. In the meantime, here’s the FB link: https://www.facebook.com/TeamAUKLET/

Thanks so much to everybody who is part of making this possible – it’s a tremendous team effort! I am so touched.

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

This has been declared our team song, with many thanks to Judith-Kate Friedman, who lives in Port Townsend, and Aimée Ringle, Judith-Kate Friedman, Kate Copeland and Abakis – = Sirens Sing.
Judith-Kate’s YouTube page has more of her lovely work – it can be found by clicking on that tiny picture of her in the upper left corner of the video image.

Lyrics:

Whatever you can do
or dream you can
Begin it
Just begin it
Boldness has genius
Power and magic in it
Boldness has genius
Power and magic in it

~ Composed by Venice Manley, based on quote from Goethe
(attribution from https: //songsforthegreatturning.net/going-forth/begin-it/)

r2ak: Expedition Prep

10 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by shemaya in Race to Alaska/r2ak, the boat

≈ 6 Comments

Thanks to Kent Mullikin’s friend in Mackerel Cove, Maine for this photo.

A lot goes into making an r2ak run happen. This is true for every single team, and even more for those who are traveling distances to get to the starting line. For Team AUKLET, the process breaks down into several categories:

Boat preparation – as in, any changes/additions to the boat itself

Boat transport preparation – tow vehicle and trailer (let’s talk about tires!)

Setting up cross-country travel for me, which involves friends to drive, minivan, camping and lodging arrangements, as well as transport for those friends to get to or from the part of the route where they are driving

And then, finally, the projects related to the sailing itself:

Provisioning: food; water supply; tools, gear, and other supplies; clothing for all aboard

Charts and navigation tools and references; electronics, and learning any new systems (yup, I finally got a smart phone – and a fancier handheld chartplotter)

Clearly the discussion of all this is more than one blog post! We can start from the top of the list:

Boat Preparation

This is not a large category, because the whole process has been ongoing for years. However, there are some bits.

Last year (2018), the rudder stop, which is in the cockpit and prevents the rudder from jamming against the hull when put hard over, took an extra strong hit while we were sliding the boat off the trailer into the water, and that crucial piece of wood cracked. The rudder did indeed jam against the hull, necessitating pulling the boat out of the water again so the rudder could be unstuck. We addressed this in the fall, with a replacement stop made out of teak. But when the Race to Alaska started looking really possible, I started looking at the grain on that new piece, and thinking about the way the old one had split, and the way the new one could split again, at 90° to the recent failure. This was somewhat concerning for local sailing, and absolutely not something I wanted to worry about halfway to Alaska. So a new piece, this time out of two pieces of plywood laminated with the grain for each one at 90° to the other, is in the works. It’s a fussy thing to make, needing to follow the original shape quite precisely, with screw holes to match the existing holes where it gets mounted. Thank you Chipper!

The most major addition to the boat is an electronic depth sounder. British Columbia and Alaska waters border on tall and steep mountains, and the topography continues below the waterline, dropping fast. Anchoring in 60 feet is not the least bit unheard of, and of course in order to do that properly you need to have determined that depth. Though my hardy Alaskan friends do this sounding routinely with a lead line, it’s more work than I am fired up to do, with multiple soundings and retrievals required for each anchoring effort. Relying on a lead line has been just fine when anchoring in 10 to 20 feet, as I generally do around here in New England, but particularly in the interest of staving off fatigue, electronics have felt in order for the Race.

Fancy fish finders are nice, showing all sorts of contour to the bottom – and maybe even fish! But compared to a simple numerical readout they use more electricity, and also have more lag time between soundings and on-screen presentation. Further, depth sounders work using sonar noise. It seems a no-brainer that all that additional information and charting of a detailed fishfinder is going to involve quite a bit more noise added to the underwater environment. In some regions, sailors are now requested to turn off depth sounders, of any kind, in order to reduce impacts on marine mammals, particularly orcas. So this very minimal sounder will hopefully be less intrusive, as well as being installed with an easily reachable switch so that it is only turned on when needed. It’s a perfect bonus that all of this will also conserve electricity/battery reserves.

Before the deep cold arrived in December, we got as far as laying out where the parts will go and how the various wires will run. It’s now almost warm enough – it got over 30°F yesterday! – to start thinking about getting back to this. I’m looking forward to it.

Another odd project is the installation of a single oarlock socket on the starboard cockpit rail. The route to Alaska includes passages with substantial current. Going through those without a motor can be just fine, in the absence of rocks in the middle, but if the wind quits one needs another way to control the boat’s position in the stream. A boat making no speed through the water will naturally turn crossways to the current, and be carried downstream. Think of a small stick, tossed into flowing water. With no relative motion between the boat and the water, the rudder will not be doing any steering, and it’s unrealistic to think that yuloh power will fight that chaotic current, to get enough relative speed for the rudder to work. I’ve experienced this, going through Plum Gut, off of the end of Long Island, New York. The current swirls quite a bit, and the boat has a life of its own, turning in the eddies as it is overall swept through the passage, with no wind to speak of in that dead spot in the middle of the Gut.

The only hazard in this situation, so long as there aren’t big waves or overfalls – and apart from traffic – is if the boat gets somehow pushed toward the shore. Control can be maintained with a single oar, positioned something like midships, which can be used to move the boat forward or backwards as it lies perpendicular to the flow of water and is carried downstream. I have not done this, but my Alaskan friends use this approach routinely, cruising in their engineless sailboat. It sounds good to me, and all we need is another oarlock, and a test for fit with the yuloh. In a pinch, the kayak paddle that is also carried aboard might work the same way, with the oarlock for a fulcrum. Of course the yuloh in its ordinary position would still be fine for moving the boat forward – it’s the backwards option that is really crucial, and makes it worthwhile to add this simple piece of gear. I’ve been meaning to do this for ages, and now is the time.

That’s about it for modifications to the boat. This is a good thing, because there is quite a lot else to take care of! Further preparations will be described in upcoming posts.

Out of the Water

20 Friday Oct 2017

Posted by shemaya in the boat, Trips

≈ 8 Comments

The boat is out of the water, and I do hope to come back and post some bits from the second half of that last trip. In the meantime, here are a few more recent photos.

Arriving back home, October 1, with the early morning tide.
[Photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

A few days later, with the rig taken apart and the masts down, Chubba gave us a tow to the boat ramp. Dave McDermott came along to help, and the gray rain held off until we were just about done.[photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

And this one, taken by one of our neighbors:[photo credit: Jon Young]

In the yard the next day, waiting for wash-up.[photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

And then into the boat shed. Yesterday the mainsail got the salt rinsed off of it… Sure does look big, when it’s not on the boat!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s nice to be home.

AUKLET Still Floats!

25 Thursday May 2017

Posted by shemaya in the boat

≈ 11 Comments

This morning, May 25, AUKLET made it out of the boat shed, down the road, and into the water, after about a year and a half on dry ground. We’ve had a very late spring here, which put a hitch in my grand ideas of launching in late April or early May. Finally the leaves are starting to come out on the trees – if only barely, in these photos – and we had enough warmer weather for necessary projects.

Here’s the boat ready to go at our nearby ramp in Steuben.

This ramp is gently sloping, so even with the hitch extension on the trailer, there is no floating the boat without letting the trailer farther into the water. This involves a webbing strap, and trusting the tongue jack with the little wheel in front to carry the forward end of the trailer and boat. One of our projects this spring was adding a new tongue jack with double wheels, because the old one has been looking precarious. The new one fit nicely on the other side of the trailer, so now we have two. Redundancy is good, and overall, especially because of the A-frame layout of this trailer, the arrangement seems sturdier and better balanced than even a single jack that’s in good condition. We used both, for the launch. In this picture you can see their vertical tubes on each side of the winch post.
[photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

Of course, that photo was jumping ahead. The first order of business, after the masts were in place, was backing the trailer to the edge of the water, chocking, disconnecting the trailer from the truck, extending the hitch, and attaching a long heavy-gauge webbing strap to the trailer hitch at one end, and to the truck hitch at the other. There was a moment of drama when one of the chocks slid on the slippery ramp, and the whole business, trailer and boat, readjusted itself by about a foot on one side. After the chock on that side was pushed firmly back in place we were once again in business, with no further slipping. Then the truck pulled forward to stretch out the webbing, and put on enough strain to release the chocks from behind the trailer. Chocks were retrieved, and then the truck backed up, letting the trailer roll slowly into the water.
[photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

With the truck a respectable distance from the edge of the water, the boat was floating but not yet free. The tide was rising and shortly did the rest of the work. Friends who had come in a skiff for the festivities (thank you Chubba and Arthur!) took a stern line and easily guided the boat off of the trailer.
[photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

We had dispensed with the electric motor for this effort. It’s a project to get the sails rigged, in a junk rig. Without the sails, in a wind with some rockweed snagged in the propeller the motor offers a false sense of possibility; last year with the Peep Hen this approach led to emergency anchoring and rigging the much simpler gaff rig to then sail back to our float. The little Torqeedo would have managed on this much calmer day, but only if the forecast wind did not come up before we were finished. We decided to skip that particular set of stresses.

With AUKLET and no motor, the options are either rig the boat on dry land after the masts are up (fussy and time consuming, with launch-helpers waiting); launch and anchor near the ramp (might or might not find that one very small perfect spot where the boat will actually float at low tide, rather than uncomfortably going over on its side), and stay for the night (cold, rainy storm coming); yuloh across to the mooring or float, about a mile away (gotta already be in shape, for that one, and like the electric motor, not feasible at all if the breeze comes up); or, ding ding ding! have a wonderful friend with a skiff and a sturdy gasoline outboard.

[both photos credit: Suzanne Jean]

The original plan was to tow AUKLET to our float, and let the boat go up and down on the mud while we took our time with rigging. The weather had other ideas, with the storm coming in tonight and tomorrow that will blow directly across Joy Bay, pushing waves into the float on our side of the bay. The steady 20 to 25 knots that is forecast is enough for some pretty good whitecaps, which would not be kind to the boat in the transition between floating and being high and dry. So now AUKLET is out on the mooring, perfectly snug for the messy weather. We had a nice tow from the ramp to the mooring, and then the boat was on its own as I got a ride in to shore.

Bonus, all those friendly helpers put MARIGOLD (the Portland Pudgy dinghy) in the water too, making quick work of what would have been a little more tricky sliding over the rocks. Those three strong folks picked that boat up like it was groceries! What a wonder. This morning we went from no boats in the water, to two, just like that, and back in the house before lunchtime.

In a couple of days the weather will clear up; if all goes well we’ll have some fun with rigging, and after a little more loading of supplies the boat will be ready to go. Many thanks to Chubba, Arthur, Chipper and Suzanne, who all made this possible. And to Joy Bay, for being there.

[photo credit: Suzanne Jean]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Ashore for the Winter

03 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by shemaya in How Does This Work, the boat

≈ 2 Comments

Just over a week ago both the boat and I came off the water for the winter. The timing was good – a few days later a storm came by that blew at about 40 knots, not all that far out to sea from here. It was lovely to watch the rain, and the wind in the trees, from the snug side of a cozy window on land.

The boat was also snug,
happily inside the mostly-completed boat shed, entirely out of the weather for the first time since it left the shipyard where it was built, in 2008. It’s feeling very luxurious to not have to worry about the PVC frame and tarp process. It’s feeling even more luxurious to be able to climb into the boat without wriggling around under the driveway winter arrangement just to make a foray into the cabin.

Hauling the boat out of the water was interesting, in this new and different location. The ramp that was nicely out of the wind and waves, just a mile by water from the new house, is not as steep as the ones we’ve used before (steep is good, when it comes to ramps for boats with keels). There aren’t photos of how this went, as every single person was completely involved in trying to make things work, but we’ll try for that next time. For years a webbing tow strap has been part of the boat towing kit that has ridden around in the van, with all the other boat hauling paraphernalia, from hitch balls to tiedowns and wheel chocks. The tow strap was still in its wrapper, up until this past week. Finally it got put to use.

This tow strap procedure was quite theoretical, being something that I had read about and thought through, but never tried. When a ramp is too gradual to allow the trailer into water deep enough to float the boat without dousing the tow vehicle, it’s possible to unhitch the trailer from the vehicle (with the little jack wheel on the trailer tongue in its down, load-bearing position), attach the tow strap to the trailer hitch, and let the trailer farther down into the water. It helps to take a turn with the tow strap around the hitch ball on the vehicle, so the trailer doesn’t just pull the person holding the tow strap right into the drink along with the trailer. Once the trailer is in far enough for the boat to float onto it, the wheels are chocked; somebody has to do some rather serious wading to manage this. Melissa brought her wetsuit, which was a good thing because there was frost on everything the morning of the day we did this maneuver, and we were out there at about 8 AM to catch the tide.

(Getting back to the story… )
Once the trailer is securely chocked and the boat pulled into place and secured on the trailer, then the tow strap can be hooked onto the tow vehicle, and up you come, out of the water. We had some suspense about the plastic chocks, and what would happen to them next when the trailer wasn’t there anymore, but they floated neatly up to the surface and were easily retrieved. Once out of the water, the trailer is chocked again, and then reattached to the tow vehicle.

In a more orderly world, meaning one in which you had not first tried to get the boat onto the trailer without this process, with various complications related to falling tide and a boat half on the trailer, it would make more sense to chock the trailer before it’s in the water. Then you could unhitch, hook the tow strap onto the trailer, move the tow vehicle farther up the ramp, hook the other end of the tow strap to the vehicle, and let the vehicle ease the trailer into the deeper water, where it would be chocked again. Next time! That could’ve been done this time also, if we had thought it up, but as it was things worked out okay regardless, thanks largely to the seriously-strong member of our boat-hauling team, Richard (seen this past spring).

The AUKLET trailer also has a telescoping tongue extension, and at steeper ramps that’s enough to do the trick for floating the boat on or off, even with the long shallow keel that requires somewhat deeper water. It’s nice to know that the tow strap arrangement actually works, for when the tongue extension is not enough to keep the tow vehicle’s wheels out of the water. Tires in the water are okay, but nobody wanted to see the hubs and brakes of a good truck down there in the salt.

The concrete ramp that we used, at the head of Joy Bay in Steuben, has narrow horizontal grooves for traction. The small trailer jack wheel rolled over these grooves easily. Some concrete ramps, such as the nice new one on the Connecticut River in Holyoke, Mass, are made of individual concrete slabs with a more substantial horizontal gap between the concrete sections. I would have concern in trying this tow strap arrangement on that ramp, probably wanting something to put under that small tongue-jack wheel as a runway across those gaps. Otherwise, if the wheel were to turn sideways and fall in a gap while the tow vehicle and trailer were still moving, that could be the end of the tongue jack, with much breaking, falling and scraping and difficulty getting the tongue both up the ramp and lifted back onto the tow hitch. It was with great relief that I first saw our concrete ramp on Joy Bay with its narrow indented traction grooves, when I went to look a couple of days ahead of time. I’m not perfectly sure what I would use, on the other kind of concrete ramp. A simple board, plywood or one by something, would want to float rather than stay in place. A couple of convenient pieces of stiff sheet metal, leapfrogging one in front of the other, might be nice, or perhaps a weighted board… If anybody has experience with this and would like to comment, I’d love to hear.

As it was, the trailer cooperated nicely, the boat came out of the water, the rig came down (okay, that took a little while), and off we went. It was a treat to go only 3 miles or so by road from the ramp to the house, rather than the long drive from somewhere near the ocean back to Holyoke. Moving to Maine is lovely on so many levels.

Many thanks to everybody who made this haul-out work: Melissa and Richard, again with their truck, Suzanne, who does so much to organize the land side of this whole operation, and our new neighbor in Gouldsboro, Chubba, who came out so early in the morning to help.

This all took place on Saturday, October 24, somewhat more than 5 1/2 months after the spring launch, on May 2, in the Connecticut River. During these months I was on shore in the new house for a total of nine nights, over three different visits; all those other nights, and most of those days, I was aboard AUKLET. It’s a special thing to live on the boat for so many months, and it’s special again to move back onto land. Many thanks, once more, to everybody who helped to make all of this possible.

Under Full Sail

20 Tuesday Oct 2015

Posted by shemaya in Junk Rig, Sailing/Boat Handling, the boat

≈ 4 Comments

[both photos above: WR Cheney]

Earlier this year I had the great pleasure of sailing alongside two friends who came out under sail to meet me, when I was on the way to the island where they live. Both took pictures, and I am delighted to be able to share these photos of AUKLET under full sail, with the new junk rig.

Now getting toward the end of October, with many months, and hundreds of miles, of travel under sail I can say wholeheartedly that the junk rig is a complete success. True to what everybody says about the more traditional versions of this rig, sailing upwind is not it’s greatest strength. Regardless, I have sailed many miles upwind, including entertaining myself by tacking into or out of narrow harbor entrances against a bit of tide. Going with the tide is of course better, but it was comforting to know that with flat water (and a tremendous amount of tacking), it could be done the other way. Against the tide and with a chop, one might as well not bother to try, but this can be easily overcome with planning and/or patience (the tide always changes!) Though I sure do wish for detailed tide charts for the coast of Maine, like there are for some areas farther south.

On those long runs across open water, sailing upwind in 5 to 10 knots is ideal, and upwind is actually preferable, as the boat will steer itself with sails set and tiller fastened, with the boat adjusting its heading on its own for minor changes in wind direction. The boat will steer itself in stronger winds too, but bashing along into the waves isn’t so much fun, and there’s less windward progress as the boat is thrown back by the waves. The junk rig makes it perfectly easy to adjust the amount of sail area on each sail, and to tinker with the position of each sail forward or aft on its mast, in order to move the center of effort one way or the other. The boat responds to that, and it’s been fun.

All other points of sail are a perfect joy, as far as progress. As mentioned everywhere in discussions of junk rig, reefing is especially easy. Ironically, I’ve found that the effect of such easy reefing is that I don’t reef as early as I used to. Nowadays I reduce sail based on the angle of heel of the boat, or when going downwind, in response to difficulty steering, as well as for overall boat balance. In the past, with other rigs, I reefed based on those considerations, but even more, based on how difficult it was going to be to carry out the reefing procedure as the wind got stronger. I hadn’t realized just how much that last consideration was playing into those decisions until it became a non-issue. Lately I’ve been having quite a bit of fun sailing with more sail area than I used to for a given amount of wind.

Connected to the above, I’ve been learning that the boat makes much better progress upwind with extra sail area. Because it’s so easy to change the amount of reefing, it’s been easy to compare the effects of one amount of sail area or another – reefing because it seems sensible, observing the poorer upwind progress, and putting that sail area back up, having the opportunity to see the boat make noticeably better headway toward the wind.

On the subject of sail area, it’s been just wonderful having these enormous sails. It had been a question during the rig change, whether or not to go with larger sail area, and I debated it both ways for a long time. It was really a coin toss at the end, and I am now very, very happy that the final decision was to go large. The progress in low wind conditions is significant, showing forward motion when there is hardly a sign of a ripple on the water.

The problems I had in the Connecticut River with steering issues, related to the large sail area in following current and shifting, minimal wind, have come up two or three times since then, but not nearly so much as I would have thought. Primarily this occurs when the current is both following and changeable, with eddies and/or shear. The boat will still do pirouettes in very light winds under full sail in these conditions, and it is still true that the problem can be resolved, counterintuitively but completely effectively, by reducing sail area. Under most low-wind conditions, the boat simply sails, with the full sail area, and maintains easy steering. It’s a delight.

One of the more unique arrangements for this version of the Reddish-style junk rig on AUKLET is the ability to let each sail swing substantially forward relative to the mast.

This works using a running tack hauling parrel, a running luff hauling parrel, and standing batten parrels that attach farther aft than normal on each batten so as to allow for this movement. This is described as moving the sails forward for convenience in understanding, but the practical use for this maneuver is when sailing downwind, so that the sails are actually moved across the masts side-to-side, ending up almost centered on the masts in an arrangement a little more like a square rigger.

Ordinarily, in sailing downwind with any given sail sheeted out perpendicular to the centerline of the boat, the center of effort for the sail ends up far off to the side, beyond the outside edge of the hull. The effect of this is to make the boat want to turn, pivoting from that pressure off to the side, and this is felt as weather helm, the boat wanting to turn toward the wind. Having one sail out to each side can help to counteract this, but if the sails are radically different in area it’s not a perfect solution. Steering is more difficult under these conditions, and this is particularly noticeable when it comes to using an autopilot, which will typically veer wildly to one side and then to the other of the intended heading.

Adjusting the sails across the masts makes a huge difference in this issue. It’s extraordinary to feel the weather helm go away in that one moment, as the sail is eased across the mast by letting out the tack hauling parrel (the luff hauling parrel is left loose beforehand, though it can be adjusted later to take away wrinkles). The autopilot is the most sensitive measure of getting this right. By tinkering with sail area on each sail (reefing), position of each sail across its mast (tack hauling parrel), and the angle of each sail relative to the wind (sheet) it is almost always possible, in a relatively steady wind, to get the boat, at least this one, to steer reasonably straight on the autopilot while going downwind. For somebody who travels distances, particularly single-handing, this is huge. Prior to this rig, on this boat it was almost never possible.

In planning for this maneuver, I had originally guessed wrong on the appropriate position for the “windows” in the batten pockets on each sail, that allow for fastening the aft ends of the standing batten parrels to the battens; the standing batten parrels did not allow the sails to come across the masts nearly far enough. This became obvious during sea trials in the fall of 2014, and over the winter we put in new windows and made longer standing batten parrels. The new fastening positions were defined by the position of the attachment for the inner lazy jack on the boom, which it didn’t make sense to cross. This meant that the standing batten parrel on the boom came something fairly close to one half of the length of the boom. The yard does not change position relative to the mast when you move the sail across like this, so the line of windows angles up toward the halyard attachment, from that deep position on the boom.
[photo: WR Cheney]

When this arrangement is put to use, the sail swings across the mast, with the clew dipping toward the water, and the tack rising. It’s extremely helpful to have lazy jacks that adjust from the cockpit, so that the clew can be easily raised away from the waves. I originally thought that having both port and starboard lazy jacks led to the cockpit was a little much, and that one would do the job, with the other fastened. In use, however, it’s been extremely helpful to have both (which I had, thankfully, put in after all).

On AUKLET, the original mizzen mast was tall for the size of the new junk mizzen sail, so lazy jack adjustments are not needed when letting the mizzen sail come across the mast. The sail is simply hauled high on the mast with the halyard, and the boom angle is not problematic, being well above both the water and the deck.

It’s been interesting to note that when it’s time to jibe the mainsail, one might first think to haul in the lazy jacks to raise the clew. If this has already been done because of waves, then everything is fine and it’s not a question. But in very light winds, when one wants every bit of sail area available, it can be advantageous to leave the clew low, thereby keeping the lowest panels of the sail completely extended. It turns out that it’s much easier to simply haul in the tack hauling parrel temporarily (which raises the clew), bring the sail across to the other side, and then let the tack hauling parrel out again after the jibe is complete. On a boat with a sufficiently high mainmast this would not be an issue, as the sail could be raised high enough on the mast to clear the cabin regardless. In the interest of passing beneath low bridges, the new mainmast on AUKLET was cut to the bare minimum length/height. I would not do this again – an extra 2 feet of height would not have made a difference with the crucial bridges (which, alas, still do not clear), and the additional mast height would have helped enormously for the size of this sail. Still, it all works, if with a bit of fiddling.

All in all, the new junk rig has been fantastic. It took quite a while to come upon the opportunity for underway photos of the new rig with sails completely raised, and I’ve been perfectly delighted to see them. Many thanks to Bill Cheney and to Kent Mullikin for the photos, and for the fun we had sailing around alongside each other!

[photo: WR Cheney]

[photo: Kent Mullikin]

Dealing with Insects

19 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by shemaya in How Does This Work, the boat

≈ 2 Comments

Summer sailing, besides being beautiful and warm, is full of bugs… I have never been more bug-bitten than I have on a boat with ineffective insect strategies. As a result, a lot of thought, and some preparation, have gone into avoiding further repetitions of those experiences. Being averse to chemicals, this mostly involves netting, in a variety of applications.

Where I’ve been sailing, the primary insect issues are mosquitoes, and “no-see-ums,” those tiny black midges that are especially thick in the vicinity of wetlands and marsh grasses. “Black flies,” or gnats, have not been a big problem the way they are in the woods, at least so far in my experience. Since they breed in moving fresh water, I guess this is not such a surprise. Then there are biting flies, including horseflies and deer flies, and smaller ones that look like houseflies but are determined biters, that I have only encountered on the water, and can be quite a pest. I’ve taken to keeping a flyswatter on the boat, which handles them nicely; netting hung loosely over the companionway also keeps most of them out.

Bug netting comes in a couple of varieties. Some has a more open weave, and will stop mosquitoes, but nothing else, and is sold as “mosquito netting.” The other kind has a tighter weave and will keep out both no-see-ums and gnats/blackflies, with the trade-off that air does not move through it as easily, which is noticeable on a hot summer night. Either kind is often available by the yard, in 6 foot widths, generally from camping supply places. I get no-see-um proof netting from Campmor (nope, not receiving anything for this reference): https://www.campmor.com/c/72-in-tight-weave-no-see-um-mosquito-netting-61001

The first year that we launched AUKLET involved a tremendous amount of completing rigging, as well as finishing other aspects of the boat, after the boat went into the water in the spring. This was in the Connecticut River, and nearby on the north shore of Long Island sound. There were a lot of no-see-ums! Having gone through a terrible time with bugs in the trips in the Peep Hen, AUKLET was prepared with a giant, 12′ x 12′, piece of no-see-um proof netting that Suzanne and Theo and I had sewn together, with loops for attaching the netting to line strung over the cockpit. We had also made a screen for the forward window using this same material, and had an arrangement for attaching another piece of no-see-um netting over the companionway (more on that later).

Nowadays I mostly use the forward window screen and the companionway netting. When there are too many bugs in the cockpit, lately I’m inclined to just go inside the cabin. Sometimes I have waited too long, enjoying a pretty evening sitting outside, before sealing off the companionway netting. This has resulted in mosquitoes in the cabin, with nighttime coming on enough that you cannot see them properly to catch them. Oh no!

This year when that happened it occurred to me that I already had the perfect solution on board. Out came the giant cockpit netting, and up it went over my berth, neatly tucked, especially around the head and sides.

I could then hear the mosquitoes in the cabin, but somehow knowing that they were not about to be biting me made the sound completely unproblematic. Several times this summer I have slept with this indoor tent. Sometimes the weather has been cool, and it’s been a pleasant surprise to find that it is significantly warmer underneath the indoor tent. Sailing north, excessive heat has not been such a problem.

Early this summer, on an evening when the companionway was carefully closed off well before mosquito-time, as it started to get dark there were still new mosquitoes. Out came the berth netting, but the situation was a puzzle. First I thought that I had not quite perfectly taken care of the companionway. When it happened a second time, the next morning with full light I carefully checked the companionway and found not a single spot where a mosquito could wriggle through. Thinking on this, it finally occurred to me that there are plenty of mosquito-sized openings between the starboard cockpit locker and the cabin, and noticeable cracks where the anchor chain goes through the chainpipe and its cover.

The chainpipe allows the anchor chain and line to be dropped down through the deck into a bin in the starboard cockpit locker. Blocking that gap with a rag has made all the difference in nighttime peace.

Different boats have a variety of strategies for putting companionway netting in place. Some use frames with netting, instead of the ordinary drop boards for closing the companionway completely, with the netting frames sliding into the same slots. Others folks use netting with Velcro on the edges. The frames seemed like too much trouble, especially for quick exits in a serious situation, and my experience with Velcro and netting is that the Velcro grabs the netting when it shouldn’t, and worse, opens up gaps in the weave when you pull it apart. But there were those handy slots, for drop boards that were not in place. It turns out that you can hang netting on a string fastened inside, across the top of the companionway hatch, put a flexible weight, in this case a coil of spare line, over the extra material at the bottom of the netting to pin it down, and then fill the slots on the side with pieces of foam “backer rod” to pinch the netting into the slots.

Backer rod comes from hardware stores, in a variety of diameters. It is made of soft foam, and is ordinarily used for filling gaps that are going to be caulked, so that you don’t need so much actual caulk for the job. It’s cheap, flexible, and easy to work with. With a bit of netting bunched up on the sides, and a little experimenting to find the perfect diameter of backer rod, it makes a very handy closure for the netting. It’s not much trouble to put in, and comes out instantly for quick exits.

On this boat, the top 6 inches of the vertical sides of the companionway have no slot. This was initially a problem, but Suzanne took a trip to the local department store and found oversized plastic clips that close onto the existing strip of wood. Voilà, a complete netting seal all the way around the perimeter of the companionway.

This whole routine might be too fussy for some folks, but it has seemed worth describing, in case some part of it is the perfect fit for somebody puzzling over this issue. I’ve found it easier than the alternatives, having tried several over time.

The forward window screen is a plastic frame that Theo made from scraps that had to do with the borders for plastic lattices, like those used to close off crawlspaces underneath porches and houses. Foam weatherstripping is attached around the outside edge, and makes a snug fit into the frame of the window, where it stays without any additional attachment.

The screen presses into place, and there is an eye strap screwed onto the inside face (hidden behind the rolled up curtain in the photo), to make a handle so it’s possible to get it back out of the window. It uses regular fabric no-see-um netting. I was worried about that being too fragile, especially when the screen is out of the window, being stored somewhere inside the boat. But it turns out that with moderate care it’s been fine, and the original netting is still holding up in this fourth year of sailing.

Then there is the question of mosquitoes while actually sailing. I’ve been pretty bitten in this situation also, especially coming late into a harbor, just as it gets dark. Footwear is good, as are pants and long sleeves, but sometimes this really isn’t enough. Last winter, browsing a stray catalog that showed up in the mail, I came across the perfect thing: a bug shirt! Marketed to people who go canoeing in the Boundary Waters of Minnesota – where they really know mosquitoes – it has netting for coolness along the sides, and a full hood with a netting front and zipper access, to cover one’s head and face. You wear a brimmed hat inside the hood, to hold the netting away from your face and neck (so the bugs can’t bite right through the netting), and gloves for your hands, and laugh at the mosquitoes.

One morning about a month ago I left a Gouldsboro Bay anchorage early, when it was still dark enough to need navigation lights. There was barely a breeze, and the mosquitoes knew it. The shirt was a fine thing – easier to manage than a mosquito headnet, with no worries about gaps at the collar. I’m an absolute convert. This is the one I got, but the same company has another one, and I’m sure there are others to be found elsewhere. As always, I’m not receiving anything for including this link… http://www.boundarywaterscatalog.com/all-products/browse/keyword/bug-shirt

So that’s about it for what I’ve learned about bug avoidance. I do like early spring and late fall sailing, for that time with no bugs, no netting, and neither bug-vigilance, nor itching. But since working out the various systems, that middle time of the sailing year has also been quite nice.

[Posted now in October, but mostly written sometime in August.]

The Anchored Wind

17 Saturday Oct 2015

Posted by shemaya in the boat, Why Go Sailing

≈ 2 Comments

The boat rears and bucks, on its tether to the underwater ground. The wind will shift later, around to the west, and all will be placid, more or less. But for now, the tide risen over the sometimes-protecting eastern rocks, it’s all about waves, the boat an agile thing, demonstrating its paces.

For those of a certain age (something like middle) – and perhaps only in the United States, and maybe Canada? – going to the supermarket as a child, companion of one’s mother, or other adult, meant passing the mechanical bucking horses outside the entrance to the store. Child-sized, with saddles and stirrups, ready to go. Put in a quarter, or probably a nickel, when I was small enough to actually ride them, and up and down, forward and back, the mechanical horse would give you a ride. It was always over too soon, and you wished for another coin in the slot, patting the sturdy neck and face of your sometime steed. It was the best thing about going to the store, easily rivaling the gumball machines, or the search for the prize buried somewhere in the CrackerJacks. The motion was fun, and we always wanted more.

Today, as the boat bounces, I’m thinking about that. Endless quarters in the slot. Who ever would have thought that I would come to complain about this. Child who went to every carnival, favorite ride The Scrambler, turning, bouncing, changing direction at all moments. The motion of this boat is something that you would be hard-pressed to achieve, for whatever cost, on land. Physical therapy devices come to mind, none of them with the stamina, or simple ease, of my berth, in the anchored wind. Even the cash laid out for the boat could not compete with the hourly cost of this much motion from any other source.

It’s a gift. Remember that!

Beaching Legs ~ Score: Gravity – 1; Engineering – 0.5

26 Sunday Jul 2015

Posted by shemaya in Sailing/Boat Handling, the boat

≈ 4 Comments

A couple of weeks ago, on the mud flats in Joy Bay, we tried the beaching legs. These are stilt-like boards that go on either side of the boat to hold it upright, resting on its keel, when the tide goes out. For people who know what they’re doing, with the correct arrangement, this is a commonly used technique, though it is seen much more in the UK than on this side of the Atlantic. It is used successfully with enormous keel boats as well as for smaller craft.

When AUKLET was built, in commiseration with the builders we decided to try brackets on either side of the boat, with 1″ x 4″ legs that would slide into slots in the brackets, to then be adjusted for height depending on the slope of the bottom on which the boat might be resting. A couple of years ago I went to test this system, but discovered that the original legs had swollen in such a way that they would no longer fit into the slots. In the intervening time since then, we made a new set of legs, and it was exciting, and interesting, to try them out.

The more usual way to attach beaching legs is with a bolt through the hull and the top of each beaching leg, and lines from the bottom of each leg to the bow and stern of the boat. These lines hold the legs steady, and also prevent the boat from twisting, with one leg shifting forward and the other aft, relative to the twisting hull. Alternatively, as described in the book Sailing the Big Flush, the legs can be lashed to the shrouds (wires that support the mast, side to side), and adjusted for height from there, also with lines to bow and stern to prevent twist. AUKLET, with a freestanding mast, has no shrouds, and I was not excited about putting bolt holes in the hull, so we tried the rather unique brackets instead. Both location and angle of the brackets was experimental. It seemed like the fore and aft lines would not be necessary, because of the configuration of the slot; I was wrong about that. It also would have been better if the slots angled away from the boat, so that the feet of the legs ended up farther from the side of the boat than the tops of the legs.

In mud, it’s necessary to put plywood boards under the feet of the legs, so that the legs will not sink into the mud. This can be arranged with a pin in the bottom end of the leg, and a hole in the middle of each pad, to deal with the issue of the plywood pads wanting to float and slip away when there is still water and one is getting the whole arrangement in place. The pin arrangement would be best – I can attest that an alternative arrangement with a line through the middle of the pad and a hole through the bottom of the leg was less than satisfactory, though it did work more or less, with help from a boathook.

It’s quite a production to deploy beaching legs, and it’s helpful to have more than one person, so that the legs can be adjusted simultaneously as the boat settles onto the bottom. Doing this alone, as I was, added extra complications. But then, there were a lot of complications, as a result of trying a new procedure and never having seen it done in person. Also, I made a tactical error that is perfectly obvious in hindsight.

Some time back, as part of this post: http://sailingauklet.com/2013/09/22/the-pool-table-effect/ I described a technique, told to me by Tim Pfeiffer (thank you Tim!), for rocking the boat and letting the keel dig a bit of a hole into the mud so that the boat will settle level, into its mud cradle. Not thinking perfectly clearly, after the beaching legs and mud pads were set for deployment, but not down all the way, I had the idea to do a little of that digging with the keel, by rocking the boat. On the one hand, this did dig a little bit of a cradle, but sadly it completely displaced one of the mud pads, though I was able to rescue it as it started to float by. I was not, however, able to get that mud pad back into position. The situation became a further experiment, as to how far the leg would sink without the pad. The answer is: quite a bit, though it did seem to stop.

The boat had been positioned previously, using two anchors on fairly long lines opposite each other to avoid the occasional rocks in the mud flat, which came into view as the tide went down. By adjusting the anchor lines it was easy to guide the boat away from the rocks. That part was a success. After that one mud pad came free I gave up on keel-digging, committing to the possibilities of the beaching legs supporting the boat.

After the water was almost gone the boat was beautifully upright – for about 5 minutes. It started to list to port, and I somehow had the feeling that the keel was sinking into the mud, and that easing the starboard beaching leg just a little bit would help things come back to level. In hindsight, and after seeing photographs, I expect it’s more likely that the port beaching leg, which was missing its mud pad, was simply digging in further. At any rate, I went to ease the starboard leg adjustment, and the boat started to come over on the starboard side, but more than I was hoping for. Trotting myself over to port, and jouncing to try to bring the boat back over that way, was unsuccessful, and the boat gradually settled more to starboard, coming to rest – temporarily – at about 15° of heel. There is a clinometer in the boat – a gizmo like a level that shows degrees of heel – so it’s easy to see just what’s going on. I’ve done this grounding out before, intentionally letting the boat go down on its side. More about that can be seen here: http://sailingauklet.com/2013/08/04/kneeling-camel/

As it turns out, in this new situation the boat was resting it’s weight sideways on the starboard beaching leg. This is not what that board was designed for, and it was not nearly strong enough to support that kind of weight applied crossways. I was inside the cabin getting organized for being over at such an angle for the duration of the low tide, and there was a snap, a bit of a jolt, and the boat went over another 3° or so. This was definitely not in the plan! However, the boat was now settled. From the float by the shore Suzanne was able to confirm that nothing in that process had made any holes in the hull, so there was some time to relax.

When the tide had gone out the rest of the way I took a little trek in the mud, retrieved the beaching legs (one snapped completely into two pieces), tied the stuck mud pad so that later when everything floated free it would be possible to get it back, and surveyed the situation.

The mud in Joy Bay is very slick – it’s as if the boat was sitting on grease. There was twisting, perhaps contributed to by the gusty wind, even though the sails were all down. Undoubtedly losing that port mud pad contributed, but I do not feel confident that things would have been okay with that mud pad in place. Lines from the lower ends of the beaching legs, led bow and stern, would have stiffened things up considerably, and I do think that with both mud pads in place and those lines it probably would have worked, provided that the lines were actually able to set up the correct tension to keep the legs securely in position.

Besides all that, the biggest thing that I learned is that deploying beaching legs is a huge production. The first time of anything is almost always 10 times more effort than after familiarity and routine are established, but it still looks like a big job. Added to that, there is the issue that there really should be two people, in order to set the legs correctly as the tide goes down. What I have absolutely confirmed is that if I were to try this again, I would change the attachment for the legs, adding a pivot bolt hole to the existing brackets, and refreshing my memory on how to make the length of the legs adjustable when a pivot bolt is being used. I’ve read this, somewhere.

As it is, I’m quite up in the air about whether or not I will pursue the beaching legs trials. In soft mud, my preference would definitely be to forgo all that effort and potential drama, and simply use the keel-digging trick, hoping to settle at an angle of something better than 15°. I’m looking forward to trying that in Joy Bay, some time in the next couple of months. It’s doable enough, to wait out a few hours over at an angle, and who knows, in the right location the boat might dig itself enough of a cradle to go down level even with the tide all the way out to bare ground. That’s an investigation I’m interested in making! In the meantime, much was learned, the boat is fine, and so am I.

On the day in question, about four hours after we went down in the mud, just before dark the tide came back, the boat floated, and I got some nice, horizontal rest. At about four in the morning, before things went back to mud, the anchors came up and we relocated back to the mooring in the channel. It’s been a fascinating exercise, and I’m still thinking on the many results.

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

Note: In the process of putting together this post I went back to looking on the Internet on the subject of beaching legs. There is more there now, than when I first came to this subject. I would have done well to read up before this attempt! Sturdier legs would be in order – at least 2 x 4’s, for this boat, in my updated opinion, and for larger boats people are using 4 x 4’s. A number of people have completely foregone adjusting the length. Instead, the legs are built just slightly shorter than the depth of the keel where the legs go, to allow for the keel settling into the bottom, and the whole business is called good, with apparently successful results. At least one individual doing it this way singlehands, and reports the process being easy.

It is worthy of note that this ease for singlehanding was achieved by having the pin permanently mounted in the beaching leg for each side, so that it could be easily positioned into the hole on the side of the boat. An interesting detail was that when one of these folks set up this system, he used lines from the bottom of each leg to the bow and stern, and marked those lines for the correct length. When deploying the legs, the lines were first tied at the correct length and then the pin was put into the hole. The leg, and the pin in the hole, were then supported well enough, while the boat was floating, for the singlehanded sailor to go inside the boat and fasten the washer and nut on the inside.

An assortment of folks said that they had initial concerns about the holes in each side of the hull, but found them to be easily stoppered, and not a problem. One writer used wine corks, and another used tapered plugs like those for seacock emergencies; both were completely satisfied.

Here are a couple of references that I found helpful:
http://www.classicboat.co.uk/forums/showthread.php?t=88484

http://www.ybw.com/forums/showthread.php?432110-Boat-legs

And one for the book Sailing the Big Flush, by Eileen Beaver (nope, not receiving anything for printing this link):
http://www.amazon.com/Sailing-Big-Flush-Eileen-Beaver/dp/1596637854

Solar Hot Water

21 Tuesday Jul 2015

Posted by shemaya in How Does This Work, the boat

≈ 2 Comments

The boat carries a propane camp stove, but I hardly ever use it. If the charcoal heater stove runs to warm up the cabin, it works just as well to heat water, or food. When the weather is warm enough that the heater stove doesn’t run, I still like to drink hot water when I can get it. This is along the lines of tea, but without the teabag. Typically I’ve missed this treat, once the weather warms up in the summer. Then along came the solar hot water heater…

Some time ago somebody figured out how to make glass cylinders that are useful for heating water using sunlight. The cylinders are long and thin, with an inner wall and an outer wall, with a vacuum space between the walls, like for a thermos. The inner wall of the glass is colored dark red, with the coloring in the glass itself, for better heat absorption in sunlight. These plain glass tubes are available on their own, for those inclined to start from scratch. But there is also a commercial version of solar hot water heater that uses these tubes, and already has a plastic support/storage housing, a screw on cap with a soft plug that fits into the top of the glass tube, and reflector panels on hinges, neatly arranged with a stiff wire stand. The plastic bits aren’t the most well-made things in the world, but they work, which is quite good enough.

The glass tube holds about 16 ounces of water, and in a good summer sun it’ll have water scalding hot in two hours. I haven’t bothered to fiddle with a thermometer on this, but there is serious steam, and the water is hot enough that you have to worry about a significant burn, if you were to spill it on yourself. It’s good to be careful, when opening the lid!

My experience with this gadget has been between Connecticut and Maine, covering latitudes in the low 40s, from mid-spring through mid-fall. For folks closer to the equator I expect it would be even faster, and for those farther north it would be interesting to see what the limits might be. With occasional clouds, or high, thin cloud cover, it still works. It helps to adjust the angle, early or late in the day (or season), by propping the wire stand on a cushion, so that the cylinder is not at such a broad angle to the sun. It also helps to fiddle with the position side to side, so the sun has a good angle that way. But really, it’s not that particular – I’ve forgotten about it, and come back some time later, and had good, hot water, in spite of less than perfect orientation. After four hours, the water is much too hot to drink, but would probably make quite good tea.

I’ve now bought two of these – being glass, I’ve wanted to have a backup, in case of the inevitable. With the first one, the soft rubbery stuff in the plug arrived with quite a strong smell, and I was not hopeful. We left it to sit, open, for several months and it improved quite a bit. Then, after some use, it stopped leaving a bad taste in the water. This settling-in time is one of the reasons that I got the second one, so that it would have time to air out, in case the glass in the first one came to a bad end. From the same company, the second one did not smell nearly as bad, so perhaps they received feedback and changed the material. At any rate, it seems better.

According to reviews, some people have actually put soup and other food into these cookers, but I have not been inclined to do that, because being so long and narrow I think that cleaning up could be difficult. Just using this gadget for hot water has more than earned its place on the boat, and whenever temperatures are too warm for the heater stove, and the weather allows, it can be seen on AUKLET’s deck making quick and easy hot water.

Here are the sources I used for looking at the plain tubes, and to get the finished version (as always, I am not receiving anything for including these references):
complete hot water heater:
http://www.amazon.com/Portable-Water-Heater-SunRocket-Sunlight/dp/B0098IW9JU
plain tube:
http://www.amazon.com/Solar-Evacuated-Vacuum-Prepper-Rand/dp/B00LXB1F36/ref=pd_sim_86_5?ie=UTF8&refRID=0DXSX5177ZRFCWJT69K9

Sailing AUKLET

~ Small sailboat cruising and related thoughts

Category Archives: the boat

r2ak preparation progress

r2ak: Expedition Prep

Out of the Water

AUKLET Still Floats!

Ashore for the Winter

Under Full Sail

Dealing with Insects

The Anchored Wind

Beaching Legs ~ Score: Gravity – 1; Engineering – 0.5

Solar Hot Water