Anchoring and the AUTHORITIES

28 Thursday May 2015

Posted by shemaya in Sailing/Boat Handling, Trips

For a number of days this past week I was in and around Narragansett Bay. On a good wind, the boat and I went the 25 miles or so from Noank, Connecticut to Dutch Harbor, Rhode Island, and had a sweet night anchoring in the tiny south cove on Dutch Island, protected from the northwest wind. It’s a little roly, open directly to the south and out the bay, but it was great to be out of the wind. I’d never been in to that particular spot, and it was a treat.

The next day, it was up to Wickford, to be out of the new south wind, and the strong northwesterly forecast for the next day after that, and hopefully some visiting with friends. There’s a great cove, well inside that harbor, with moorings and enough water on the edges for comfortable anchoring. The first night was fine, and half the next day. It’s beautiful in there, with marsh, and trees, and egrets working in the shallows.

That second afternoon, a big gray inflatable with an enclosed center console and the word “police,” in big letters, pulled up. I was at the edge of a large number of unoccupied moorings, with a couple of boats two or three moorings away (see photo above), with enough swinging room to avoid even touching the empty mooring buoys. Alas, I was still busted. With a small craft advisory in effect for the northwest wind, the officer informed me that there was no anchoring in Wickford, except for outside the breakwaters (miserably uncomfortable from boat wakes, in any conditions). At least three times, he said that this information was posted on the town website, and that I was breaking the rules not only by anchoring within the harbor, but also by anchoring within a mooring field. Having been in here without problems a number of times before, it had not crossed my mind to look at the town website…

This was all very disconcerting, and more so when I brought up about the weather of the moment and was told something about how many times he hears that. He must have seen the worry all over my face, at the prospect of trying to move the boat effectively onto a mooring or into a slip in that amount of wind, because he relented, and said that I could stay until morning. This in spite of his having received TWO complaints! One wonders from whom – there are houses scattered along the shore, and very small amounts of boat traffic, being at the far inside end of the harbor – perhaps the folks on the workboat out tending to moorings were unhappy? Or at the marinas, in view down the way?

After the police boat left I did two things: called my friend Sarah, who lives up the cove, and got on the town website. Sarah very kindly chased around and made arrangements for use of one of the local yacht club moorings, which I moved to early the next morning when the wind had eased up.

The town website was fascinating: rather than a prohibition on anchoring, it stated that “No person shall anchor or moor a vessel in any anchorage, mooring area, or mooring field in a manner or in a location which under the circumstances existing creates a probability of damage to other vessels moored or anchored nearby.” http://www.nkpolice.org/Old%20Site/Harbor%20Division%20New/Harbor%20Ordinances%203.htm#Sec.%207-81%20Thoroughfares;%20designation;%20moorings,%20anchoring%20and%20swimming%20prohibited; ( Sec. 7-106. (c)) There’s also, very reasonably, no anchoring allowed in channels.

The above implies not only that general anchoring is okay, but that anchoring in the mooring field is okay. Geez. The same webpage also talked about transient town moorings available just inside the breakwaters (a lovely spot, where I have anchored in the past), available for free with a 24 hour time limit. So much for the information available on the website. I’m told, by the fellow from the yacht club, that now those town moorings are $25/night; it was striking to me that the officer didn’t mention them at all. When I went by the next day, they were all unoccupied…

It had been a couple of years, before this recent visit, since the last time I was in Wickford. Rules change, but also, when I’d been there before it had generally been in the middle of the season, with the harbor jammed full of boats. If somebody really paid attention, they could have noticed that I was anchored (in this boat, or in the little Peep Hen SERENITY), but for the most part I think that my presence blended in. Ironically, now after such a long, late winter, there is loads of room in the harbor, but now is the time that I get kicked out! I debated going into a slip, which I’ve also done on a few occasions, when I’ve stayed several days at a time for both shore support and repairs, and even for hurricane Sandy. This time around, it was Friday of Memorial Day weekend when I was given notice, and if I had acted quickly I’m sure that I could’ve made arrangements for a Saturday arrival. Visiting would have been easier, if I had done that! Only the upcoming hot weather forecast dissuaded me.

Instead, next day, after a breakfast stop at that nice mooring, I caught the north wind back down the bay to Dutch Harbor (which runs about 10° cooler than Wickford when the weather heats up). About the time I arrived, as predicted the wind shifted south, where it was expected to stay for days. Heading for another favorite anchorage, I anticipated being well protected from that strong south wind. No deal. In exactly the spot that lets a small boat get close enough to the shore to not get bounced around, the area is now outlined in buoys that are labeled “conservation area” and “no anchoring.” Anchoring is available, but out so far from the shore that in a 15 knot wind through the night one is pretty much guaranteed a miserable time. Rats! Having so recently had that police experience, I wasn’t keen on inviting another one, especially in the face of specific signs, so I passed it by.

Instead, since I was likely to bounce around no matter what, I rented a mooring, which achieved also having launch service, so that folks could come visit. There are no slips in Dutch Harbor. The wind blew like they said, the boat bounced, and I made plans to get out of Dodge. Suzanne came early the next morning, bringing supplies that were to have come the day after that with Amanda and Alaina. Amanda and her sister had been planning to come for a sail, after all that work on rigging the boat, but then had car trouble and had to postpone. In the end, both that and other visits were sadly missed, but Suzanne and I got a bonus hello, when she made that quick run on Sunday morning. Then off I went, with hopes for my third regular anchoring spot in Narragansett Bay to be more successful.

This next one, fortunately, was indeed better, and I arrived towards evening after a nice, feisty sail of 10 miles or so (okay, so four hours were spent tacking against the current, to get the 3 miles out of the westernmost arm of Narragansett Bay – but it was still fun). This new spot was near the mouth of what’s called the Sakonet River – actually a long bay, the easternmost arm of Narragansett Bay – where there’s a beach that extends perfectly for protection from southerly winds. There are some moorings, and when I arrived, three or four boats were at anchor. As I approached my favorite corner, close up to the beach for least bouncing, a little ways away there were some of those stick bouys that can mean so many things. I didn’t go close enough to read whatever they might have said… Sometimes you just don’t want to know.

After two nights and a good rest, on leaving I was happy to see that indeed those buoys said nothing about anchoring. But they could have. It’s a frustrating thing, to see so many good anchorages blocked off, causing unnecessarily difficult nights for those in small boats. Stage Harbor, in Chatham, was the same way a couple of years ago. With a perfect tree-covered bluff over the curve of the harbor, sheltering from prevailing winds, anchoring is only allowed inside a wide-open sand spit. Safe, but pounded by the wind, in perfect sight of sheltered peace, with plenty of room available for small boats with a shallow draft. I don’t understand the reasoning for these rules, in harbors were there is indeed plenty of physical space. Perhaps there have been abuses of hospitality. Regardless, there are legal debates ongoing about who has jurisdiction over the water in those perfect coves; it’s possible that towns have no legal standing in establishing these kinds of restrictions.

While all the concerned parties sort that out, my primary solution is to go north, beyond the crowds. Thank goodness that’s still possible! Downeast Maine is calling, loudly. Soon, I say, soon.

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Creek Anchoring

19 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by shemaya in Sailing/Boat Handling, the boat, Trips

≈ 2 Comments

Those favorite creeks, that I like so much, are a little tricky for anchoring. It’s been a progression, developing a routine that works in a way that feels satisfying and reliable. There are narrow shores to contend with, a deeper middle, current reversing with the tide, and overhanging trees. All keep things interesting. A lot of different strategies have been tried, over the course of my many creek visits, and nowadays there’s a routine that has been working quite well.

First, what didn’t work:

1 – anchoring with a single anchor in the middle of the creek. 15 feet deep in the middle, enough anchor line to hold the boat also lets the boat swing into the bank. This is not a problem until the boat is visiting the shore when the tide starts to go out… This is still not a problem during the day, when it’s handy to just push off from the shore. Sleeping through that, however, would not work out so well.

2 – anchoring with a bow anchor and a stern anchor. It has to be said that I tried this with a lousy stern anchor (too small, too light, bad shape) that had no chain. Of course it pulled out of the soft mud, leading to problems mentioned above. Wind and current catching the boat crossways because of the bow and stern anchoring arrangement did not help, and even with an improved stern anchor, I’ve been uninclined to try things that way again.

3 – two anchors from the bow, with substantial slack in the downstream anchor line (with or without slack, this is technically called anchoring Bahamian style). The anchors are set by letting down the first one, sailing extra far downstream and setting the second one, and then pulling in the line on the first anchor until the boat is somewhere in the middle. This keeps the boat from going where it doesn’t belong, but the slack in the lines leads to complications, including the slack line sometimes hanging up in the rudder, and the boat turning repeatedly with the tide, twisting one anchor line around the other one with each reverse of current (naturally the boat turns in complete circles, rather than twisting and untwisting itself first one way and then the other). The completely twisted lines hold the boat in place just fine, but are a fair amount of work to untangle when it’s time to get the anchors back. Snagging of the slack line between the rudder and the hull – or anywhere else – is a problem one would rather not have, that leads to both stress and aggravation. This is not the point of anchoring in the creek!

Finally, the prize-winning combination:

Two anchors from the bow, set as described above in number three, with two modifications. First, there is not a lot of slack in the anchor lines, once the boat has been pulled back to the middle between the anchors. If you set the anchors at some distance from where the boat eventually rests, so that the anchor line scope (ratio of depth to line length) is quite generous, there is no problem with steady pressure on the two anchors. In addition, I’ve started using a kellet on the primary anchor line.

A kellet, also called an anchor sentinel, is a moderate weight – about 5 pounds in this case – attached to the anchor line with a big carabiner (or some other slidy thing), and to the boat with a string/light line that controls how far the kellet can slide down the anchor line. This weight pulls the anchor line farther under the water, and adds tension but allows the line to stretch out if there’s a big bunch of wind. Conveniently, it keeps that primary anchor line out of the way of passing motorboats, which is also relaxing. Ordinarily a kellet is used to make an anchor more secure on less anchor line, though that wasn’t my primary purpose in this situation. I wanted it for tensioning of the two-anchor system, while still allowing for movement in a pinch, as well as for sinking the nice new primary anchor line out of range of passing boat propellers.

On this boat, which has a long shallow keel, and the rudder attached at the back edge of the keel, this whole arrangement of moderately taut anchor lines means that when the boat changes direction with the tide or the wind, the keel and the downstream anchor line lie alongside one another, preventing the boat from turning beyond the anchor line. There is not enough slack for the line to catch above the rudder and make problems, and even more beautifully, the boat cannot turn in a circle! When it’s time to leave, there is no unscrambling of the two anchor lines at the bow. I was a very, very happy camper, when I discovered this.

I left the most recent creek sooner than I was expecting to, running to the coast to avoid extremely warm temperatures, so I did not get photos of this arrangement in action. They might have been very boring photos anyway. The significant bit is that each line was in a bow chock, leading toward the anchor on its respective side. Something about how the boat landed, during anchoring, meant that it made sense to move the starboard, primary anchor line to the port side, and the port secondary anchor line over to starboard, to prevent crossing. This had to do with the wind direction across the creek, and letting the boat go crossways between the anchors in the direction that it wanted to. Making that adjustment helped everything to settle in well.

Other tidbits are that it’s helpful to notice a mark on shore when you drop the first anchor, and then again when you drop the second one. If the boat drifts a bit during anchoring, it can be hard to keep track just by checking the amount of anchor line that is out. It’s also a good idea to look at overhanging trees, while deciding where to start putting down anchors. Masts and trees do not go well together! Ideally, there would be enough space so that if an anchor did drag, none of those trees would be a problem. I wasn’t so good at this last, in this recent creek visit. Happily, the anchors stayed put, but if the more northerly one hadn’t, things might have gotten interesting. I’ll know for next time.

When it’s time to leave, the process goes in reverse, letting one anchor line go loose while retrieving the second anchor, then pulling all that extra line back in. It can take some time. Working with the tide, rather than against it, can help…

The funniest part of this recent experience is that when it was time to leave there was some funny oil on the surface of the creek, broken up in small but numerous patches. It didn’t go by in a few minutes, so I decided to go ahead with the anchor retrieval process, having a tide to catch. This moved anchor line and chain through those bits of oil, and as it came up I checked my hands – fish! Somebody up the creek must have been cleaning a substantial amount of their catch, or maybe an osprey was tearing apart a particularly large and oily meal. The next time I anchored, there it was again on my hands, eau de fish, and I noticed that the inside of the boat had a faint tinge, when first coming back in from outside. The tub for the primary anchor line is in the enclosed locker under the starboard cockpit seat, and there is a mostly covered opening from that locker through into the cabin. Now a week later, it seems gone, or maybe I’m just completely used to it. Visitors will have to tell!

In the process of retrieving those anchors, a good 200 feet of the primary anchor line got that special fish oil treatment. But it was still worth it, to be so nicely snug for days, with the boat held just so between the narrow banks of that quiet creek.

Noise

10 Sunday May 2015

Posted by shemaya in Junk Rig, Trips

≈ 8 Comments

Over the course of time I’ve gone to some pretty substantial lengths to get away from noise. This past week has been no exception, but the process has yielded some interesting information. After the boat went in the water on May 2, a little over a week ago, I stayed for several days at my friends’ dock in Deep River. The plan was to be at that spot until everything was organized and in order with the boat. It’s a handy place for receiving visits and for doing the remainder of the necessary projects before really setting off.

Deep River is a little noisy, with a combination of occasional machinery and young adults who like loud engines (boats or trucks). There is even a steam train that runs alongside the river carrying tourists, with attendant engine/track rumbling, whistles, and whooshing releases of steam, as the train stops to load and unload passengers for the riverboat at the nearby town dock. In spite of all of this, ordinarily there are lovely pauses in the activity, and the surrounding wetlands are often peaceful, filled with birds and their songs. At night, it generally goes completely still, making for good rest, and for gathering of resources to go forward with the next day.

This year is different. The first couple of days were fine; being so early in the season, the train had not even begun its regular schedule. Then on Tuesday some kind of substantial engine started, with the varying rhythm of a generator, a little through the trees from Warren and Margo’s dock. Once started, that engine never stopped. Day and night, something to do with a sewer construction project on the adjacent street. This was in addition to piledriving at the neighboring marina, where they were making repairs from the exceptional winter ice. I could deal with the piledriving; it was intermittent, and at three in the afternoon they all went home for the day. The generator, or pump, or whatever it is, was another story: constant, loud in the daytime, idling all night long, until it geared up again to full, raucous force when the folks went to work in the morning. By the second night of this I was making plans, and at 0600 on Thursday morning, early to catch the southbound tide, I was off.

This departure was ahead of schedule, and not everything was in order. But there was enough. All the fussy little lines were not in place for the junk rig, but happily, in the very light morning breeze, that didn’t matter! Halyards put the sails up, lazy jacks held them when they were down, and tack hauling parrels were in place, keeping both sails oriented correctly on the masts, front to back. Also crucial, sheets were in place for hauling the sails in or out.

Most of the batten parrels on the mainsail, on the other hand, were not attached, but the top two were in place, which was helpful. I remembered friends telling me that they once forgot to attach the batten parrels and went sailing, with general success. The redundancy of the junk rig is a beautiful thing, meaning that if one part fails (or is otherwise unavailable), there are plenty of others to keep things in order until there is a chance to make it better. Some of the various lines for this rig were still coiled, hanging from their attachments somewhere up the sail. No matter: off we went.

Down the river a little ways there’s a small island, with a tiny yacht club on the shore behind it. A friend had once invited me to tie up there if I needed, and with a plan for shore support on the following morning, I headed in that direction. The friend indeed came through (thank you David!), and by the end of the day on Friday, Amanda and her sister Alaina had been and gone, with many more rigging lines in place afterwards, and the mast wires run through the deck seal, so that the anchor light could work. Supplies had come and gone, and I was in business. There are a couple more shore support visits to be done, but the necessities are in order for being off the dock.

The most beautiful part of this accelerated schedule is that now I’m anchored in my most favorite creek! Amanda and Alaina cast off the dock lines on Friday afternoon, with a good southwest breeze and the current going back up the river. By half an hour later I was inside Selden Creek, setting the anchors. Here I’ve been ever since, resting and getting things in order, and happily away from the river traffic.

Now and then folks pass by, in kayaks or small motorboats, sometimes stopping for a chat, but otherwise it’s me and the birds, and a beaver that likes to whack its tail on the water as everything is getting dark in the evening. The owls have been busy calling, and with the leaves just starting to come out, once the light comes up in the morning it’s easy to see the gorgeous colors of the spring warblers. It’s great to have a rest, in the beautiful stillness.

2015 Launch: One more time!

03 Sunday May 2015

Posted by shemaya in How Does This Work, Trips

≈ 4 Comments

Yesterday, May 2, Melissa and Richard came to Holyoke with their truck. Next thing you know, the loaded boat was trailing behind that truck down the street toward Connecticut. A few minutes after that, Suzanne and I, with our wonderful helper Amanda, were off in the van, all of us headed for the boat ramp in Deep River, Connecticut, about an hour’s drive south of Holyoke.

In the parking lot at the Deep River town ramp the last bits of stuff went in the boat, and the masts went up.

Suzanne and Richard, mainmast going up

Richard and Melissa finish stepping the mainmast

Warren had been busy processing honey, and brought one of the frames with the last bits left in it – big treat!

Amanda and I settled in the cockpit, Melissa drove the trailer into the water, and when the boat floated free we used the little electric motor to back out into the Connecticut River. The tide was high around 1100, just before we did this, so the current was slack, and the breeze calm, making it easy to maneuver the 200 yards to our destination. By ten minutes later we were snug at Warren’s dock.

In a couple of days Amanda and her sister will be back to help with the rigging – I expect to be here for a week or so, getting things in order. It’s a beautiful spot, and this early in the season there’s not too much traffic, even with this lovely bit of warm, sunny weather. Leaves are just barely starting to come out, but the flowering bushes and trees in town were beautiful on the way in, farther along than anything at home in Holyoke.

This year’s departure has been different from previous ones. I spent most of the winter sorting, giving away, and making a dent in packing the remainder of the somewhat ridiculous collection of stuff in my apartment. If all goes something like according to plan, this time next year will see a spring launch in Maine. In the meantime, it’s lovely to be floating so early in the season, and I’m looking forward to watching the leaves come out, and gradually working my way north.

The forward rake of the mainmast, especially noticeable in these two pictures, has to do with the junk rig, and helping the mainsail swing out when running downwind.

Many thanks to Amanda and Suzanne for the photos!

Yuloh Plans

26 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by shemaya in the boat

≈ 7 Comments

yuloh top view and long section

Here’s how we did the scarfs for the bend (I would recommend using epoxy rather than TB III for this joint, now. It has worked, with the seizing, but another high-strain place where we used TB III has since failed – it’s really not meant for that.): EPSON MFP image

It has taken much too long to get these drawings posted here – but finally! If what we have done is useful to people for building or designing their own yuloh, that’s great, and these plans are freely offered for that purpose. If somebody were to choose to publish these drawings, or to print anything that is for sale that uses them, then an appropriate agreement would need to be worked out so that Theo, who drew them, would be compensated for those efforts. If you have something like that in mind, please contact myself and Theo through this website…

All that out of the way, it’s a pleasure to share what we did. In the interest of lightest yuloh weight possible, the loom (long skinny part of the yuloh, between the blade and the handle) is thinner than what appears in most yuloh plans. This works fine for me, in propelling AUKLET, which weighs about 2 1/2 tons on the truck scale, loaded… If somebody wants to really put their weight into their yuloh operation, thicker would likely be better.

If I were to build another yuloh and pin/socket arrangement, I would make one change. Rather than the angled bicycle tow hitch described in the previous AUKLET yuloh article (http://sailingauklet.com/2013/10/13/the-yuloh/) I would use a rounded vertical rod at the top of the post on the transom. The wood piece for the socket, added to a spot left flat on the yuloh loom, has worked out well; using a vertical rounded rod on the transom post would mean that the socket in that wood piece would be drilled at a 45° angle. I would also slope the sides of that socket at something like 30° to 45°, port and starboard, to help prevent the yuloh from jumping off the pin. This is much like the description for Easy Go (http://www.junkrigassociation.org/Resources/Documents/Easy%20Go%20Yuloh.pdf by Bob Groves). After significant use of the bicycle hitch version, I think that the Easy Go version might very well be better on the jumping issue. I’m looking forward to trying it one of these days. Of course, now that I’m used to what I have, it’s working pretty well, so that could be a while…

Since that original auklet blog post, Dave Zeiger has done another article on yuloh design, found here: http://triloboats.blogspot.com/2014/04/yuloh-20-and-beyond.html, working from the design by Slieve McGalliard. Slieve’s original article can be found here: http://www.junkrigassociation.org/slieve (go to this link and click on the title “Yuloh efficiency.pdf”) This original “recipe” is what Theo and I worked from to make the yuloh design for AUKLET, whose waterline length is about 19 feet.

Socket details are in the following drawings:

We made three sockets, since it was easy and allowed for using different positions to see which one would work best. I’m glad for that – the one nearest the handle works well, while the other two jump off the pin badly. All are 5/8 inch deep, and are a rounded 1/2 inch across at the inside end of the socket, flared toward the outer edges to 3/4 inch. The socket that works the best has worn away with use, on the port and starboard sides, to produce a little more slope; this has seemed helpful. Because of the sloping pedestal on the trailer hitch ball (see photo below), when the yuloh rocks far to one side or the other, it is levered off the ball. This is not good! I expect that a machinist (or maybe just somebody with a file) could alter that sloping pedestal on the trailer hitch, but it seems like just rounding off a 1/2 inch bronze rod would be simpler, if it doesn’t cause the same problem.

The removable part that we call the “yuloh post,” which brings the pin to the correct height on the transom, puts the top of the pin at 33 inches above the waterline at the stern of AUKLET. It is my feeling that getting the correct pin height above the waterline is an important part of making a yuloh design work properly, so that it requires the least effort in use; guidelines for determining pin height are included in the above articles.

I think that’s everything that wasn’t covered in the previous post. I remain enormously happy with the yuloh. Since I have spent a lot of time in the guilty activity of sculling with the rudder (which can be quite hard on the equipment), there’s a pretty good base for comparison as far as efficiency. The same amount of effort applied to the yuloh makes the boat move along very well, while the rudder version, though it also works, requires a lot more effort to cover the same distance.

Yuloh operation takes a little getting used to. After initial frustrations while actually underway, I practiced a lot at anchor, which helped, and it is now a smooth process that makes a real difference when the wind quits. An extra half-mile in or out of harbor is quite doable, and with average strength, as other people have demonstrated, it’s possible to really cover some distance in a cruising sailboat, with quite a bit of ease.

Blog programs provide statistics to do with readership, and the yuloh material on this blog receives by far the most attention of any individual post here. It’s fantastic to see so much interest in this elegant, traditional way of moving one’s boat. It would be great fun to see yulohs become commonplace here in the west!

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[As always, I am not receiving anything for links or equipment mentions in this or any other post on this blog.]

Update, March 2016

Since this writing, we did indeed modify the socket on the yuloh that receives the bicycle hitch pin. We modified the middle socket, seen in the following photo, sloping the edges of the port and starboard sides. The yuloh responded very well to that, doing a much better job of staying on its pin.

IMGP8277

There are also two more videos:

Carol Hasse, sailboat propelled by yuloh

Carol Hasse, tour of her folkboat. Some ways into this video there is a detailed, close-up, view of her yuloh and its mounting hardware. Extremely well done.

Just Because You Don’t Remember…

19 Thursday Mar 2015

Posted by shemaya in Why Go Sailing

≈ 8 Comments

A number of years ago, when I was sailing the Falmouth cutter, one night I ended up in the drink. It was about two in the morning and I had been anchored in back of the breakwater at Duck Island, on the south coast of Connecticut. The weather deteriorated and it wasn’t so nice out there, so I decided to go in to my regular slip in the nearby marina.

It was raining, with a fairly stiff wind that wanted to blow the boat away from the float that I needed to tie up to in my short slip. (The photo above is that very boat and marina, but a slightly different slip.) Alone, and the docks of course deserted at that time, I made the tight turn to port, into the space between my float and the adjacent boat, and with dock line in hand took a rather long step from the starboard rail to the end of the float. Normally this would have worked, but the wooden float was slick in the rain, my foot slipped, and down I went, presumably with a splash.

I say “presumably,” because I have a clear memory of coming up to the slip, stepping across, the grip under my foot letting go, and the very beginning of falling backwards toward the water. Then there’s a big blank spot, and my memory begins again when I am in the water, floating easily because of all the air trapped in my warm clothes and foulies. I had apparently had the presence of mind to keep holding onto the dock line, because it was, thankfully, in my hand.

The docks at that marina are somewhat high, and I floated beside mine for a couple of moments, considering what to do next. It was obvious that I wasn’t going to be climbing right out of the water, so after a little thought along the lines of, “if there is ever a time when I really ought to inflate this lifejacket, that would be now, at two in the morning, in the dark and the wind, in the water.” The lifejacket inflated as it was supposed to, and before the boat could drift too far back I swam close enough to a cleat up on the float to be able to reach up and tie the line I’d been holding. As things went on, the boat drifted back to hang on that bow line, almost touching the boats on the dock across the way.

Meanwhile, I was focused on the matter of how to get out of the water. For some reason it did not occur to me to try to use the emergency rope ladder on the boat (regularly used for swimming), so we still don’t know if, in a tremendous amount of rather wet clothing, it would have worked to climb that. It also didn’t occur to me to swim the fairly short distance from my slip over to the rocky shore, between the lines of boats. From there I could, at that time, have walked around back to the dock and the boat. I’m a good swimmer, and after all had the lifejacket inflated, but swimming to the shore simply didn’t cross my mind as an option. There’s some current that runs through there, so perhaps that was for the best.

What I did think about was that the marina was full of people on their boats, probably sleeping. I was going to need help to get back up on that dock, and knew that at least some of the people I knew were within range. So I took out the little orange ACR whistle stashed in the lifejacket and gave it a try, with quite a number of pretty energetic toots. No response.

All the safety training materials I’ve seen, from backwoods, to kayaks, to generic boating, say that whistles are far more easily heard than people’s voices. I was thinking about that information, there in the water, with no response to the whistle, but decided that voice was worth a try regardless. Things weren’t desperate – I was floating, I was warm, and I wasn’t even particularly wet, with the foul weather gear taking time to allow the water to get in. So I started hollering the names of two friends who I was pretty sure were sleeping in their boat just a couple of boats away on the other side of the dock. That went on for a bit, with no response, and then it finally occurred to me that I should actually be calling for help. So instead of just the friends names, I yelled out “I’m in the water – I need help!”

That was all it took. Seconds later several friendly people were on the float, reaching to give me a hand. Together we figured out the best way to manage, and shortly I was out of the water. While that was happening somebody meanwhile had pulled the boat in and secured it to the proper cleats.

As we all collected ourselves, I asked them if they had heard the whistle, and they said no, not at all. They had heard me hollering the names of my friends (who, sleeping in their cabin, never heard a thing), but attributed the yelling to the kind of rowdiness that sometimes goes with life in marinas. But the folks who heard these calls were awake, and dressed, and as soon as they understood the situation they were there in a flash.

Nowadays I have “storm whistles” stashed all over the place, as well as the knowledge that in this sort of situation it’s not only okay, but crucial, to say very clearly that you need help. I hope to not land in the drink again – after that event I changed my docking system, to make stepping across unnecessary – but I sure did learn a lot from the experience, and the “basic facts” are just the beginning.

The most remarkable thing is that it’s now about 12 years later, and I still have no memory of the actual time when I was falling. What I do remember is feeling terribly banged up afterwards. When you fall accidentally off a boat, particularly near docks, it’s not necessarily the ending up in the water that’s the problem. Rather, the biggest issue comes from what you hit on the way down. I was fortunate not to hit my head, but based on the pattern of bruises, I think that my left arm must have come down on something pretty hard. And I had that overall thrashed feeling, which I’ve only otherwise experienced after a major car accident.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not particularly important that I don’t remember that second or two of my life; the surrounding memories, and evidence, make what passed in those moments pretty clear. I’d like to know what I bashed on the way down, but the injuries are long healed, and it doesn’t really matter. What is more than relevant, however, is the illustration provided by this experience.

As I’ve said before on this blog, I’m a survivor of quite severe childhood abuse. Most of this abuse I know about because of an odd kind of “shadow memory,” and because of the repercussions of those childhood experiences in my adult life. Just like those 1 to 2 seconds of falling from the boat, I have no regular, clear memory of many of the things that I know took place. And very much like being in the water after that fall, the outcomes of my childhood experience – the physical and emotional challenges of my adult life – point to how things got that way. The only difference is that a person floating in the water is so clear and unequivocal.

As somebody pointed out to me (thank you, Lori) after the post from some time back titled “Thoughts on Rescue,” there is no lying in ocean rescue. Nobody thinks, “oh, the person I see in the water might be lying about it,” while the rescuer tries to decide whether or not they should fish them out; there is no evaluation of motives, or memories, or stories, nor is that question even relevant to the situation. Whether the person who needs help is in a life raft, or crawling through smoke in a burning building, the appropriate response is unequivocal. If it is physically possible, they are rescued. Even if the person doesn’t remember falling, it’s obvious that they are in the water, and people reach to help them back to dry ground.

These days, I am fascinated, and comforted, by the relationship between memory, history, and the here-and-now. When I ask myself, “oh, did that old stuff really happen?”, all I have to do is look around at the surrounding present. When the surrounding present is just as incontrovertible as floating in that harbor, dock line in hand, you know that it’s true.

I’d prefer not to have fallen off that boat, but gosh what a gift it was. I learned a lot, lived to tell about it, and gained a model for better understanding of the entire arc of my life. Can’t ask for much more than that…

2014 Projects

16 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by shemaya in the boat

≈ 2 Comments

Just now it’s January, 2015. It’s supposed to be 0° tonight, which has happened more than once already in the last couple weeks. The boat project has been on hiatus, while the main focus is going to packing. This is the first time that the boat project has had a significant pause in so long that it’s hard to remember – three years maybe? I look forward to coming back refreshed, when the weather starts showing signs of eventual warmth.

In the meantime, it has seemed a good moment for reflecting on the projects that went on last year. During the winter, and while the boat was here in the driveway through the summer, a lot of work happened. All thanks go to Suzanne and Theo, with some extra help from Stephen, and from Henri and his machine shop! Here’s what kept us busy for so long (this is the actual working list, with items moved from the “to-do” section, in categories, to the “completed” section, when they were checked off):

Winter Projects 2013/2014

(———— = Theo)

Build junk rig

Rigging for junk rig
install small cleat on starboard cabin top rail?
additional cleats for mainsail?

———–Rudder/tiller repair – DONE!!!

Bottom paint–done!!

Exterior paint

Indoor Paint Shop

General projects

TRAILER

install new trailer jack –Richard?

INSIDE CABIN

install wiring and switch for cockpit compass light
——–drill holes for plant rack locking pins

COCKPIT

EXTERIOR

INSIDE HOUSE

sewing

spare sunbrella –edges

The “it would be nice” list
starboard berth seatbelt

Completed
mud boards for beaching legs– holes in middle, epoxy and paint – done
repair anchor light–done!
drain water tank–done
make up lines for beaching legs – done
smooth and epoxy hole edges at base of rudder tube/well – done
design junk rig – indoor project – done
make junk rig sails– Stuart! – done
install copper flashing inside lower rudder tube/well–done
address old caulk and soft wood underneath rudder pintle–done
motor mount touchup–done
make junk rig main and mizzen yards – done
make beaching legs – done
make cargo boom jaws – done
seal for lower edge of stove drop board – done
rudder/stock – antifouling below; house paint above – done
tiller strap wood spacers – done
tiller/rudder stock “clamp” – done
tiller – done
make batten wooden end plugs??–done!
epoxy exposed wood on keel (scrapes from 2013)–done
seizing on new dock lines – indoor project–done
Finish shaping batten ends–done
mizzen mast – wedges for belaying pin rail–done
Belaying pins and rail for mizzen–done
seizing –leather!– on tiller –done
install swivel on secondary anchor/chain–done
make organizer for navigation tools–done
seizing on anchor line–done
reseat rudder pintle/reinstall rudder –done
battens – cut aluminum tubing to length, smooth ends, install wooden end plugs–done
splice primary anchor line/chain, load into starboard locker – needs seizing; needs markers–done
Bottom paint–done!!!
yuloh paint –done
push pole paint – done
round off lower ends of partners expansion–done
modify tricolor–done
re-drill water tank overflow–done
make bow compartment watertight cover–done
drogue attachment plates – drill for bolts, lay out backing plates, get them drilled, install attachment plates–done
install bow compartment watertight cover–done
Smooth off new aluminum mainmast–done
cut new aluminum mainmast to length –done
make and install rubbing strakes on eyebrow (for fender lines) – made, waiting for installation after paint–done
plug forward limber hole – done
vinyl flap on motor mount – done
re-bed stem band – done
new boot stripe above existing bottom paint (?) – Done!!!
make and install exterior overflow for freshwater tank–done
Reinstall trailer bow roller–done
main boom core–done
design and build euphroes–done
clean and test bench rope cutter–done
sew hatch cover edges – done
epoxy and reinforce cabin-top rails where splitting/delaminating–done!
sunbrella inner closure for companionway – done!
install main boom ends – done
tiller/rudder stock connection – final installation done!
new rudder stop – needs wedge – done, in paint shop
make Shemaya safety harness–bought–adjust? – done
install drogue access deck plate–done
deal with masthead fittings – done
sunbrella flap for Torqeedo control panel – indoor project–done
adjust trailer bunks–done
take trailer off blocks–done
assemble Purcell Prusik safety tether, test for length–done
install telltale compass inside cabin–done
make four euphroes – in paint shop–done
head cover velcro tiedown–done
adjust mainmast tabernacle and step for forward rake – done
mount tricolor, antenna bracket – done
install rudder stop wedge – done
run electrical and antenna cable–done
sunbrella over cockpit outlets–done
install battens, yards, in sails– done
work out and install batten parrels and quick-release rings/quick links – done
work out and tie on sheetlets – done
connect tricolor wires–done
rig mizzen mast–done
vinyl chain guard permanent installation–done
Rig new mainmast–done
adjust for new mainmast retaining pin position–done!
install mizzen sheet cleats near companionway –stbd done–done
forward cabin hatch – screw down or add hatch dogs –done
attach primary anchor–done
clean inside stovepipe (scrape with bamboo)–done
replace electric brakes emergency battery unit–done!
drill and epoxy for eyestrap for anchorchain–done
install eyestrap for anchorchain–done
mainsail bundle roadcover–done
**autopilot wiring**– done

Completed painting
rub rail–done
toe rail, eyebrow paint–done
bowsprit touchup – done
tabernacle parts epoxy and paint –done
mainmast tabernacle, when adjustment is complete–done
cabin top rail splits, after epoxy – done
euphroes–done
rudder stop wedge–done
tabernacle piece–done
bulwark rails–done

Theo tasks – indoor

yuloh–widen middle socket
seizing on tethers

Theo – outdoor

/////////test windows to confirm lexan

mast fitting –done
make rudder stop wedge, drill for fasteners – done
rudder/tiller connection – install clamp, tiller straps – done
make tiller stop, to prevent falling down–done
make wood spacer for mainmast tabernacle – done
install mainmast band – done
install rudder stop wedge (Suzanne) – done
install tricolor bracket – done(Suzanne)
install antenna bracket – done(Suzanne)
drill wire holes – top of mast and at tabernacle – done(Suzanne)
install wood spacer to mainmast tabernacle – done(Suzanne)
adjust trailer bunks – done (Stephen)
take trailer off blocks – done (Stephen)
rudder stop, to prevent jamming sideways – done
install telltale compass inside cabin – done(Suzanne!)
open fairleads–made new–done
sort out mast raising derrick–done
extend underneath cleat at back of forward locker cover–done
sort out mainmast retaining pin –done
forward cabin hatch – screw down or add hatch dogs –done

no or not now

stove bracket on footwell hatch?–no
storm boards for windows–no
Oar locks on bulwarks
removable oar blade to fit on push pole
make electrical locker easier to close
Smooth off old aluminum mainmast – paint?–no
Figure out fisherman anchor stowage – not now
install eye straps for main sheet blocks – no
add flotation fastened inside berth lockers – fenders?–not now
check beaching legs as starboard berth leeboards–later
test windows to confirm lexan–not now
make up lines for mud pads for beaching legs–later

… There was another list, that started in August, but this seems like quite enough!

Learning to Sail

28 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by shemaya in Sailing/Boat Handling, Trips

≈ 4 Comments

Recently I was asked, in a sailing context, to write something about myself. Briefly. The bit that came to mind did not fit into two or three sentences, so now it’s a blog post instead…

Sailing and I really started early in high school. One year, before junior high, I had gone to a summer camp where they did some small boat sailing on Lake Champlain; the sailing part was great. Some time after that, my dad said that we should take a drive to Gloucester, and next thing you know we were coming home with an O’Day Widgeon in tow. This is a 12 foot fiberglass boat with a small foredeck and an enclosed storage cuddy underneath. We sailed this boat near the grandparents’ home in Long Island, and even more near the other grandparents, and cousins, in Connecticut. As I became more proficient, I got to sail by myself.

In Connecticut, in Stonington Harbor, the little boat went on a mooring. I would row the dinghy out, and be off. I think that I was 13 or 14 by this time. The amazing thing is that, as far as I remember, nobody ever told me, “When you’re sailing by yourself you have to stay in the harbor.” Or something about staying inside the inner breakwater, or even the outer one. I was a pretty obedient kid, not likely to stray where I was told I shouldn’t.

My dad and I, on special days with a good northwest wind, had at least twice sailed around Fishers Island, which is a couple of miles off the Connecticut shore and roughly 9 miles long, though only a mile or so across. My dad was the grownup after all, and could say that we could do such a thing, which was well beyond what I would consider on my own, rules or no rules. We did this motorless, with a canoe paddle in the cuddy… Nowadays that trip around Fishers Island is something that I would not undertake without more adjustment to that boat. I would like oars, for one thing, and a place to sit to use them. We did have a compass, a chart, and some tide tables, and I’m pretty sure that there were a couple of life jackets onboard. Off we’d go, blasting around the eastern end of Fishers Island to the open ocean outside, and eventually back in through The Race at the western end, tide rip and all. By the time we were halfway back down Fishers Island sound, with the sun getting low, the wind would slack off. Somehow we always made it back to the mooring before it was pitch dark. Afterwards we’d go to a restaurant over in Mystic, and each eat an entire pizza.

On my own, I had a few adventures (remember that part about no range restrictions.) Judgment, after all, is developed by experience, and how much of that have you got when you’re 14?? One time I sailed to the beach on the outside of Napatree Point, to wave to the aunt and uncle who were out with friends for lunch. This would have gone smoothly if the wind had not died, with the tide running out over the big reefs that extend between Watch Hill and Fishers Island. Headed alarmingly close to Catumb rocks, I had my paddle out, but it was not nearly up to the challenge of the current.

The good thing about a paddle on a sailboat in almost no wind is that you might as well be waving a flag, as far as your predicament. Kind folks in a big sailboat came along, under power, and gave me a tow away from the rocks. They offered to go further, but when things looked secure I said that it was fine, and away they went. As it turned out, it wasn’t exactly fine: the current was still moving the boat back toward the rocks. But in a kindness from the universe, I did not need a second tow – I don’t remember whether the wind picked up just then, or the current had run itself out for that round of tide, or both, but I did avoid the rocks, and got back around Napatree and into Stonington without further help.

The obvious question in this particular story has to do with whether there was an anchor on the boat. And there was, but I had had no experience whatsoever with it, and was hesitant to try, especially in that deeper water approaching the reef. Nowadays, when people tell me they are sailing and that they are unfamiliar with anchoring, I’m big on describing what to do. I also offer a lot of encouragement about practicing. It’s amazing what an impression one of those teenage experiences can make on a person; nowadays it’s a running joke around here, how many anchors I keep on hand.

There’s another one of these stories, to do with reefing. I’ll save that for another time, but you can guess where it’s headed…

With these for childhood experiences, out on the Atlantic swells, it’s no wonder that sailing the Chebacco all over the place – and before that the Peep Hen – feels something like normal. Things weren’t simple when I was growing up, and after that I was away from sailing for quite a while. But the gift that I was given in that time, knowing sailing, and knowing the salt water, has become a treasure. Coming back to it is one of the best things I’ve ever done.

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

Fishers Island, from Stonington inner breakwater

Boat Farm 2014

06 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by shemaya in Sailing the Farm

≈ 3 Comments

This year was a particularly good one for the cockpit branch of the boat farm. I harvested lots of fresh greens (by boat standards), and had quite a bit of fun while doing it. The cabin side of the farm operation wasn’t quite so exuberant, and alas, I mostly forgot to take pictures of that group. This was because I was so busy focusing on the cockpit activity, since the outdoor plants were the ones I had pretty much forgotten to record in 2013.

Here’s what the cockpit plants looked like when they came aboard about a week after launch:
and a little later:

This is thanks to Suzanne, who had found the baby seedlings at the co-op and put them into these containers. Ordinarily we have focused on lettuce, but being the beginning of September when we started this, there were no organic lettuce plants to be had. Instead there was kale, pak choy, and Chinese cabbage. As it turned out, this was great – they grew like crazy, perfectly content in the cool and sometimes wet fall weather, seemingly having no problem at all with the short days.

One of the most important things for this container gardening arrangement is the soil mix. When you get it right, the plants are both vibrant and productive. This goes on for a surprising amount of time, through substantial harvesting. The soil for this year included potting mix, lots of worm castings, 2 kinds of compost, “moo-do” composted cow manure, dolomite lime (this kind of lime adds minerals without changing the pH), and some powdered organic fertilizer, with special emphasis on the worm castings. Worm castings, like all the rest of the ingredients, came in a bag from the garden store. In past years, with the boat and myself getting on the water in the spring, we took advantage of already planted bowls of lettuce that were available at the co-op. The first year these grew extremely well, and then the next year not so much. I think the varied results were probably also a soil mix issue, as they weren’t treated differently otherwise.

Also worth noting in the picture on the dock are the outer trays that the containers of soil are placed in. These are plastic packages from buying baby greens at the store, top and bottom from one package. Holes are poked in the container that actually has the soil, with the outer tray (the inverted package lid) catching anything that drains after watering. Once moved onto the boat, the outer trays aren’t so helpful as trays, because if it rains outside the plants could be swamped. But here’s the tricky thing: if the containers have just been filled with soil and planted, quite a few soil crumbs are going to come out through those drainage holes, even though the holes aren’t very big. It makes a mess. The outer trays can prevent the dirt in the cockpit, but then there is the soggy over-watering in the rain issue.

It turns out that after the containers have been set up and the soil and plants have settled in for a week or two, dirt no longer falls out of those holes in the bottom, even without a tray. This is great news when it comes to moving the plants around the boat, and everything works out fine. It’s just important to get the plants going in their containers ahead of time, on a surface that allows drainage and has room for the errant soil bits to fall out, before the containers take up residence in the cockpit. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t do it that way – just messy for a while.

On the cockpit sole, we have that stuff called dri-deck (as always, I’m not receiving anything for mentioning this). This is available from boat catalogs, in 12 inch squares. It helps protect the wood, where things like water jugs are left for a while, preventing consistent wet spots. It’s also great for allowing drainage through the plant containers. I usually water the plants while they are on the dri-deck, and don’t even worry about overflow, which takes care of itself by draining down and off the back of the boat, or by drying in place.

The lids for the containers, while not so ideal as outdoor trays, make fantastic covers for the plants when they are still small. This is good for possible frost, and is outstanding for protection from spray while sailing. Of course, then the plants get bigger…

Here’s another view, a couple of weeks after they came on board, where you can see the Chinese cabbage really taking off; it’s the group at the lower left:

The parsley, at the upper right in that same photo, does well in a quart yogurt container, and moves inside to the special plant racks for sailing. The main container has drainage holes, and sets inside a second container with no holes when indoors. Parsley is very sensitive to salt spray, but adapts to the indoor location easily. Lettuce in previous years has also been very sensitive to salt spray, tending to get brown spots from even very fine salt mist, just like the parsley. A wonderful surprise this year has been that both pak choy and Chinese cabbage don’t seem to care much at all about little bits of salt on their leaves, staying green and healthy.

Here’s the parsley, in the indoor location:

That’s buckwheat in the other two containers, which makes a nice treat, picking a number of sprigs every few days. Sunflower sprouts, which in the past have been very successful earlier in the season, declined to do much of anything at all this time around. For the future, here in New England, I’m not going to try sunflower planting after the end of August. Buckwheat, on the other hand, does just fine with the shorter days and cool temperatures. As described in a previous farm post, all of these indoor sprouts are planted in about an inch of soil. At the right season for the particular plant they do quite well, and require a lot less water than regular sprouts rinsed in a jar.

All in all, it was a good year for the boat farm, providing fresh green vegetables long after the ice jug had melted and the cooler was retired for the duration of the trip. It was a treat!

Float Plans

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by shemaya in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Having a proper float plan form, filled out with crucial details about the boat, its occupants, where we expect to be, and what to do if we aren’t, has been on the to-do list for a very long time. Progress was made before the recent sail, but the completed item was not quite ready. Suzanne has been the informal holder of the float plan for all of these trips, as we stay in touch while I’m out and about, including about plans and checking in after arrival, and she knows the boat and has access to an assortment of records. Still, managing this so casually has not been the proper way to do things, and would add difficulty in the event of an actual emergency. Since arriving home I’ve come back to the float plan project, and the form itself is finally in order. I’ve found it helpful for thinking through equipment lists, as well as for gathering all the assorted boat information in one place, completely apart from the float plan’s official purpose.

There are several float plan forms available on the Internet (linked below). They provide for varying degrees of detail, but no single one that I found seems to include everything. This inspired me to start making a list that would cover all of the items from all the publicly available float plans that I could come up with, as well as details that were not listed anywhere but that have seemed important. Then I had some fun formatting, making a blank for my own use over time. It seems that other people inclined for the more thorough version of this sort of thing might find this form useful also, so voilà: here is yet another blank float plan available on the Internet…

Here’s a version in XML format, for anybody who would like to copy this and then make changes of their own: composite float plan-blank-XML (Please note that if you want to keep the original layout, the margins will need to be set at 0.5 all the way around – this setting is sometimes lost during the download process.)

And here’s a version in PDF format, for those who might want to simply print the pages and fill them in by hand: composite_float_plan-blank-pdf

At the bottom of both versions is a page with links to each of the float plans that I found already available, from official sources like Boat US, and the US Coast Guard Auxiliary; there is also a link for a page about why it can be a good idea to write one up. All of these references are copied in a tab near the top of the Sailing AUKLET home page, for easy access… Comments/suggestions are welcome.

Here’s to another safety item that one hopes to never actually put to the test!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Resources:

Boat US: http://www.boatus.com/seaworthy/FloatPlan.pdf

Coast Guard Auxiliary Association: http://www.floatplancentral.org/download/USCGFloatPlan.pdf

Nautical KnowHow: http://www.boatsafe.com/nauticalknowhow/boating/float1.htm

US Power Squadron: http://www.usps.org/o_stuff/fp_form.html

Why Prepare a Float Plan: http://www.uscgboating.org/safety/float_planning.aspx