The British Virgin Islands are the premier charter destination for beginners. I did my first charter there when I was 19. The islands boast the odd mix of flat seas, good winds, and short hops to calm anchorages each with a bar for post-sail regaling. What I've learned though is that the BVI are a great spot whatever your sailing level.
Geo contacted me to skipper a charter in the BVI. I was confused. Was he offering to pay me to sail around the BVI? It just so happened that the trip coincided with the St. Pete boatshow and would end about the time that my friend Tania Aebi would be in the islands to work an over-paid cruise with another sailing monthly (the one I let use my initials). How could I say no?
I arrived in paradise and made my way around to Conch Charters. Most of the group was onboard the big cat when I got there. You know how it is. I was going to have plenty of time to get to know all of them and so it was, "Nice to meet you. Where do you guys keep the beer?" Road Town seems almost tolerable with a coldy in your hand.
As it turned out, Geo couldn't make it because he had to stay home to work to pay for the trip. Odd how that works. As much as it sucked that I wouldn't finally meet Geo, at least he had the decency to send his lovely girlfriend. Trina was cool and she brought her 20yo son Chris and his friend Garrett. Also onboard were young Lake Powell veterans Tom (aka T-money) and Kristen. Kristen brought her cool aunt Merna. Rounding out the crew were seasoned sailors Mike and Kathy.
By the time the Conch staff was done fixing a head issue it was getting late. The Conch staff was great. One of them had actually knew the magazine and still, they gave us the green light to sail out. It got very dark, very quickly. One of the crew pointed out, with some concern, that there were almost no nav lights in the islands. As Kristin handed me a glass of champagne I heard T$ say, "It's OK, Woody'll be lit".
The anchorage at Norman was more crowded than I'd ever seen it with big yachts parked outside the smaller charter boats. We took a mooring about a 100 yards off the steel schooner Willy T – the legendary boat bar. We dinghied in, got drinks and headed to the upper deck where I explained that if they wanted the free Willy T shirt the girls had to jump off naked (technically it was topless and jumping had been banned but they wouldn't know that). It took a few drinks but I think everyone did the deed in the end. We had to explain to Garret that if he really wanted to impress the smiling girls at the bar then he should use 2 hands instead of 1 when covering the old sea snake – if just for effect.
After the required stop at the Baths we made our way up to North Sound. I had a list of LACC Harbor Hangouts to check on and Esther's place was our first. The Fat Virgin is a sweet spot. It's little, it's quiet, it's friendly and the food is island style amazing. I had the best roti ever and with our LACC cards, our first drinks were free. Remember to get a Fat Virgin beer coozie from the gift shop if just to piss off your friends at home. Across the bay we hit Vixen Point for some drinks and beach volleyball and then settled in for dinner onboard followed by a heated spoons competition.
The charter companies don't want you taking their boats up to Anegada. The sail can be bumpy and the entrance tricky. When queried, the Conch people never gave me a definitive yes or no. With no resistance from my crew, I decided we were a go for Anegada. We sailed off the mooring at N. Sound and coasted through the pass in the wake of a giant four masted schooner. The sail was brisk, for a heavy cat.
The entrance was where it was supposed to be. We parked in front of Neptune's Treasure and went in for lunch. Randy arrived later and accepted our plaque (I hate it when they say no). He hung it right there above the bar. If you're up that way be sure and stop in, cool guy - nice spot.
After lunch we walked the beach and found one of those big truck taxis with the raised open-air covered bench seating in the back. We cut a deal with the driver and piled in. With a soft cooler full of coldies (clever crew) we were set for a perfect afternoon. Our driver took us to a couple different beach spots including Loblolly Bay and Cow Wreck Beach.
That night we BBQ'd onboard after which the boys went missing. Trina, T$ and I tracked them down at one of the string of beach bars - the one with the booming island reggae/rap and dancing bartenders. They had been carousing with a Mic Dundee stand-in. Garrett was up on the brick BBQ structure dancing with some tourist hottie. It took Mic and the boys about 4 minutes to convince her to join them in a naked dinghy pier jump. The plan was foiled, of course, when her husband rolled up. Party pooper.
We had a fast sail back across. I don't know how he did it with the jerky cat motion but Mike made us all a big breakfast en route. Someone handed me a bloody mary. I was having a hard time finding something to complain about. We were headed to Trellis to present Da Loose Mongoose a Harbor Hangout plaque. I had on deck with me the two or three crewmembers with the least sailing experience – the safest kind. With a little guidance they performed a flawless mainsail takedown. You know the drill: rounding up into the wind, dumping the main into it's cradle and bearing off while there is still some boatspeed.
We had an amazing sail down the back side of Tortola before drifting into Cane Garden Bay. Quito's Gazebo hosted our sunset viewing party on their upper deck. The place was empty so the bar staff agreed to a 2 for 1 happy hour. We couldn't stay for dinner. We had a hot date at Myett's. Myett's is the nicest dining spot in the islands in my opinion. Coupled with the fact that it goes off after dinner, it's not to be missed. Owners Val and Kareem welcomed us in. Trina and I joined them at the bar for a couple tequila shots. As our Tortola Harbor Hangout, they wanted us to feel welcome. After dinner the band got us onto the floor with rap lyrics custom tailored to our group. They didn't close until we stumbled out, winded from dancing.
After a lunch stop at perfect little Green Cay we skipped down to Great Harbor, Jost Van Dyke. We were headed for the original BVI Harbor Hangout and JVD's premier cruiser bar: Corsairs. It's all about timing. We had just ducked in out of the sun when Vinnie rolled up in his vintage army jeep with a load of bricks for the restaurant expansion. Then it was old times. He reached behind the bar and pulled out a slew of the coldest beers in the Caribbean. We visited for a bit. On the wall behind me, Vinny's Harbor Hangout plaque had almost completely faded. He was saving his new plaque for the grand re-opening. By the time you read this, Corsair's will be open and better than ever. But that's not all. Vinny has contracted Eric Stone to play at his place until June! If you're in the area, don't miss it.
Continued next month.
www.captainwoody.com
Showing posts with label Cruising Sailing Adventure Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cruising Sailing Adventure Travel. Show all posts
March 6, 2009
February 6, 2009
Bananas to FL II - #106
If you tuned in last month I was in Florida helping a Beneteau sloop and her owner John, relocate to the Caribbean. It was September and so it was hurricane season in that part of the world. After a trip down the St. John's River we were preparing to head out to sea for the 290nm leg south to Miami. Wx reports showed a hurricane going ashore north of us sending strong north winds from which we expected a large southbound swell. The entrance to the river was deemed 'all weather'. Still, with the tide running out into a large cross swell I was expecting a rough departure. It was nighttime, it was raining, my crew and boat were untested. It seemed like a good time to give it a try.
I suited up and went forward to secure the anchor. I had left it ready to drop in case of engine failure on our river trip. By the time I got back to the helm I could feel the large swell sweeping under the boat. I looked around one last time to make sure we were ready. I wondered if John had taken me seriously about securing everything below for knockdowns, which were likely this time of year. We could hear the rumbling of large surf. I assumed it was coming from outside the seawall. I was favoring the left side of the channel because that is where my wind was coming from at upwards of 30kts.
Our first wave tumbled in, definitely inside the breakwall and definitely coming right for us. I brought the motor up to cruising speed and advised John to get under the dodger. The wave rolled over us. It was impressive. It hit the boat hard and covered the bow and filled the cockpit. We pushed on. The second, bigger wave inspired John to stand for the remainder of the action and to suggest, in no uncertain terms, that I should be steering directly into the waves. Hadn't he seen Perfect Storm? That doesn't always work out.
And the waves kept coming. Though they were stacked close together and were steepened by the outgoing tide, I was not concerned about the boat. Each breaker hit hard on the port bow launching her into the sky then dropping her into the pit between walls of water. All the while she felt sturdy underfoot and the motor ran strong. The headsail was ready to deploy had the engine failed and we needed a push back in.
John gave up giving me steering directions and seemed to accept his fate, whatever that would be. To ease tensions, or maybe just because I felt so alive for once, I started singing the show tune from Gilligan's Island. Loud raging conditions are the only time my singing voice sounds good to me. I would usually cut the corner, but to be safe, I carried on through the surf and current out to the last green buoy before pointing the bow finally south.
As it always does when turning downwind, sanity came rushing back and all seemed relatively calm. We regrouped. In regards to steering directly into waves I later explained that 1) we had a low seawall reportedly just to port and 2) a boat can make more headway not hitting waves straight on thereby shortening the 'ordeal' or 'adventure' depending on who you asked.
We rolled out about half of the headsail and bolted off south. The waves were still rolling into the cockpit from behind us but we hardly noticed. We started our watches, three on, three off. I went below first, as John seemed to be wide awake. I awoke to a loud bang followed by a vibrant rolling sound which ended in a thunk. The furling line had chafed through and the headsail had unfurled to its full size. It had been run wrong, something I had not checked for. The boat accelerated. This was good, I thought, we are really seeing what this boat is made of on this easy coastal leg.
This situation posed a bigger problem to me than motoring out through a tough entrance. The only way to shorten sail would be to go to the bow and pull the whole thing off the headstay by hand … in 30kts. Though I require them on my crew I don't like harnesses. The time and focus consumed by clipping and unclipping can be frustrating to me. Still, I was willing to make an exception considering the circumstances. I slipped my way along the jackline to the bow that was lurching side to side as the boat surfed along with each large swell. We had a plan John and I. I was concerned because John had a habit of implementing his own ideas into my plans. This time he was perfect and maneuvered the boat under the big sail right on queue. We hoisted a much smaller sail and went back onto the watch schedule.
It was somewhere in here that I noticed the rudder shifting in its casing. Not much I could do about it. As our storm to the north broke up our sail just got more and more beautiful. Being pushed past those big coastal towns was a sight. I'll say it again; I'll take downwind 40 over upwind 15 anytime. We had made good time which had put us off Miami in the dark before dawn. What else is new.
They call it the Biscayne Channel. It's a nasty little cut, a couple feet deep on each side, with more dog legs than a Korean restaurant. With every third marker light out and with the blinding city lights behind them, the turns were hard to find. John went to work, standing at the bow with a small flashlight picking out slight reflections from old daymarkers. With a current running cross-channel I kept looking back to check our drift by aligning previous markers. We made it to Dinner Key and got tied up, a nap, a shower and headed in for brunch and a coldy at Scotty's. After that we went to work on the boat.
I have some minimum requirements for taking a coastal cruiser 1000nm through an unprotected part of the Caribbean, upwind in the wrong time of year. Not in any particular order I wanted a depth sounder, a thumbs up from the Beneteau engineer that the rudder wouldn't fall off, a mainsail that had reef points, and crew that listened intently and carried out skipper requests verbatim. John's list was shorter. He wanted to go now. Though I admired his drive and fearlessness, his plan reeked of shipwreck. On the brightside a depression off Haiti seemed to be breaking up which could give us a few days of descent wx. It made me want to go too.
In the end, John couldn't wait. He knew that a departure delayed even a couple days would mean that he couldn't make the trip. We agreed that John should find another skipper. It was all very amiable. I returned all unearned money and then some. John found another skipper but they decided to wait until November, after hurricane season, when they found sunny fast downwind conditions. There's value in the drive he displayed but with the sea, drive should be balanced with finesse that allows the conditions to adjust one's plans.
I suspect that Kim was disappointed though she did well not to complain. I had invested in food for the trip which she had gone to the trouble to acquire, even cooking a few meals in advance. It did not go to waste as Kim lives at "the compound" where she has surrounded herself with a bunch of wonderful people, the peace and love types who are always a pleasure to be around. I spent two soothing days there before heading back.
www.captainwoody.com
I suited up and went forward to secure the anchor. I had left it ready to drop in case of engine failure on our river trip. By the time I got back to the helm I could feel the large swell sweeping under the boat. I looked around one last time to make sure we were ready. I wondered if John had taken me seriously about securing everything below for knockdowns, which were likely this time of year. We could hear the rumbling of large surf. I assumed it was coming from outside the seawall. I was favoring the left side of the channel because that is where my wind was coming from at upwards of 30kts.
Our first wave tumbled in, definitely inside the breakwall and definitely coming right for us. I brought the motor up to cruising speed and advised John to get under the dodger. The wave rolled over us. It was impressive. It hit the boat hard and covered the bow and filled the cockpit. We pushed on. The second, bigger wave inspired John to stand for the remainder of the action and to suggest, in no uncertain terms, that I should be steering directly into the waves. Hadn't he seen Perfect Storm? That doesn't always work out.
And the waves kept coming. Though they were stacked close together and were steepened by the outgoing tide, I was not concerned about the boat. Each breaker hit hard on the port bow launching her into the sky then dropping her into the pit between walls of water. All the while she felt sturdy underfoot and the motor ran strong. The headsail was ready to deploy had the engine failed and we needed a push back in.
John gave up giving me steering directions and seemed to accept his fate, whatever that would be. To ease tensions, or maybe just because I felt so alive for once, I started singing the show tune from Gilligan's Island. Loud raging conditions are the only time my singing voice sounds good to me. I would usually cut the corner, but to be safe, I carried on through the surf and current out to the last green buoy before pointing the bow finally south.
As it always does when turning downwind, sanity came rushing back and all seemed relatively calm. We regrouped. In regards to steering directly into waves I later explained that 1) we had a low seawall reportedly just to port and 2) a boat can make more headway not hitting waves straight on thereby shortening the 'ordeal' or 'adventure' depending on who you asked.
We rolled out about half of the headsail and bolted off south. The waves were still rolling into the cockpit from behind us but we hardly noticed. We started our watches, three on, three off. I went below first, as John seemed to be wide awake. I awoke to a loud bang followed by a vibrant rolling sound which ended in a thunk. The furling line had chafed through and the headsail had unfurled to its full size. It had been run wrong, something I had not checked for. The boat accelerated. This was good, I thought, we are really seeing what this boat is made of on this easy coastal leg.
This situation posed a bigger problem to me than motoring out through a tough entrance. The only way to shorten sail would be to go to the bow and pull the whole thing off the headstay by hand … in 30kts. Though I require them on my crew I don't like harnesses. The time and focus consumed by clipping and unclipping can be frustrating to me. Still, I was willing to make an exception considering the circumstances. I slipped my way along the jackline to the bow that was lurching side to side as the boat surfed along with each large swell. We had a plan John and I. I was concerned because John had a habit of implementing his own ideas into my plans. This time he was perfect and maneuvered the boat under the big sail right on queue. We hoisted a much smaller sail and went back onto the watch schedule.
It was somewhere in here that I noticed the rudder shifting in its casing. Not much I could do about it. As our storm to the north broke up our sail just got more and more beautiful. Being pushed past those big coastal towns was a sight. I'll say it again; I'll take downwind 40 over upwind 15 anytime. We had made good time which had put us off Miami in the dark before dawn. What else is new.
They call it the Biscayne Channel. It's a nasty little cut, a couple feet deep on each side, with more dog legs than a Korean restaurant. With every third marker light out and with the blinding city lights behind them, the turns were hard to find. John went to work, standing at the bow with a small flashlight picking out slight reflections from old daymarkers. With a current running cross-channel I kept looking back to check our drift by aligning previous markers. We made it to Dinner Key and got tied up, a nap, a shower and headed in for brunch and a coldy at Scotty's. After that we went to work on the boat.
I have some minimum requirements for taking a coastal cruiser 1000nm through an unprotected part of the Caribbean, upwind in the wrong time of year. Not in any particular order I wanted a depth sounder, a thumbs up from the Beneteau engineer that the rudder wouldn't fall off, a mainsail that had reef points, and crew that listened intently and carried out skipper requests verbatim. John's list was shorter. He wanted to go now. Though I admired his drive and fearlessness, his plan reeked of shipwreck. On the brightside a depression off Haiti seemed to be breaking up which could give us a few days of descent wx. It made me want to go too.
In the end, John couldn't wait. He knew that a departure delayed even a couple days would mean that he couldn't make the trip. We agreed that John should find another skipper. It was all very amiable. I returned all unearned money and then some. John found another skipper but they decided to wait until November, after hurricane season, when they found sunny fast downwind conditions. There's value in the drive he displayed but with the sea, drive should be balanced with finesse that allows the conditions to adjust one's plans.
I suspect that Kim was disappointed though she did well not to complain. I had invested in food for the trip which she had gone to the trouble to acquire, even cooking a few meals in advance. It did not go to waste as Kim lives at "the compound" where she has surrounded herself with a bunch of wonderful people, the peace and love types who are always a pleasure to be around. I spent two soothing days there before heading back.
www.captainwoody.com
January 6, 2009
Bananas to FL - #105
John and Whitney sat down one day and came up with a plan that would put them on a path toward their dreams. It was much like plans that we have heard before. The couple was giving themselves five years to get out from under their possessions and search out their perfect cruising vehicle upon which they would acclimate to life aboard as they tested the waters, first near then far.
You know how it is when passion strikes. You jump all in. They immediately started looking for boats while John quickly found a need for his skills at a boatyard in the British Virgin Islands. Six weeks after their plans were hatched the two contacted me about sailing their new boat from Florida down to their new home in the BVI.
As John flew to FL to prep their new-to-them Beneteau 41 for a voyage to the islands, Whit was packing up the house and organizing the kids to come get their extra stuff. I had an open slot in my sailing schedule in four weeks time or we could leave in six days ... if they were ok with sailing around hurricanes. They opted for the asap option.
Back at the Lats offices I had been spying a little orange box that was sitting in our editor Sue's bookcase. Inside was one of those Spot devices. Haven't heard of Spot? It's a little waterproof device, the size of a small handheld vhf, that relays via satellite, your GPS position to people you've put on an email list. The box talks about safety this, safety that. I just wanted to use it to piss off my friends. We set it up with the findmespot.com people and I headed for FL.
Jacksonville was hot and humid which means to me that no matter how bad the conditions get out there the water filling the cockpit will keep my feet warm. John picked me up at the airport and we drove to the boat at one Sadler Point Marina. Somehow the boat didn't look like the broker ad ;). Still, I liked her. Beneteau makes reasonably sturdy boats for coastal cruising and more. This was an older one which was sturdier still. This boat had been raced hard but most of the gear looked like it worked. The work list had not been completed. Is it ever? I headed up the mast.
George and Nick were a couple of locals that stopped by with some valuable local knowledge about weather and tides and bridges and other info we would need to get out to the ocean. Thanks fellas. I quickly discovered that we were quite a ways from the sea. Younger Nick had a boat out on a mooring that he was prepping for his own cruising adventure. He hung around until our departure with the afternoon tide the next day. He worked hard and when John tried to pay him he refused. Nick was just happy to be part of our adventure.
I checked email one more time to get my departure weather report. Because it was hurricane season we had hired a pro wx guy based there in Fl. I did get an email but there was no report. It said that our wx guy was on vacation. Can he do that? We finally pushed off the dock. Our route to deeper water was complicated so it was lucky for us that we still had a route layed out on the gps from some previous adventure. We called the first bridge and got an opening right away. The second bridge was on a fixed schedule so we had 45 minutes to kill. We decided to pull up to a fuel dock to try and top off.
I know as much as anyone that the sea constantly tests us. What I wasn't thinking about at the time was that sometimes the sea's reach extends far inland. “Like landing an airplane,” I told John. Parking a boat when the current is flowing along an end tie is pretty easy. The water flowing by the keel and the rudder give you control when you are hardly moving. You just gently manuever over and 'set her down' against the dock.
Pay attention, I made a couple mistakes here that we can all learn from. We pulled up and John hopped ashore with the bow line and took a turn on a cleat mid-boat. I should have mentioned that we needed it on a cleat by the bow, mistake A. I turned the wheel to bring the stern in to the dock and stepped ashore, mistake B and C. I told John to move the line to the cleat at the bow while making fast my line to a cleat by the stern. It was at this point that I realized my mistakes and their compounding consequenses. Because the rudder was turned the current quickly drove the bow out and away from the dock. I was lucky that John was holding the longest dock line I'd ever seen. He was able to get a wrap on a cleat forward. Even with the two of us pulling we could not bring the boat back in.
There was the boat sitting 30 feet off the dock on two lines pulling very hard to get free. At least the situation had stabilized ... sort of. I looked at the bow line and saw a badly frayed section about half way out. I looked way aft at the hard looking low steel bridge that was patiently waiting to eat John's boat. Just then Bubba walked up. I don't know what his real name was but you know what I mean. He was a big shrimp fed local boy. He wasn't laughing, I don't know why not 'cause it was funny. I loosened up the stern line and us three brought the bow back to the dock. We got a third line on and I took my first breath. John seemed unphazed.
We got away easily (with more thought than the landing) and got through our last bridge. We followed the buoys until dark and then some. A miniature Coast Guard cutter approached. These guys were cool. They turned on the spotlight to read the name of the boat but had the class to not shine it directly at us. They carried on past, but returned on a dinghy. We got boarded. These guys went about their business quickly and professionally. They were even nice enough to zip tie the forward 3-way in the open position. They left while we were still smiling. As the last guy went to step off he looked over his shoulder and said, “You're not going out tonight?”
I think he was referring to the wind and the big swell. A hurricane had just gone through and was coming ashore in N. Carolina. I had been watching my own wx. It looked like gusts to 40 knots on the tail. It was a lot but I felt lucky that we had a tail wind going south to Miami. Why stop in Miami? The FL to BVI sail only has a couple spots along the way that offer safety from an approaching hurricane. There was a real possibility that we could be caught out. This boat was new to both of us. I wanted a break-in leg to see what we had. It worked out well because Miami was where my crew lived, yogini Kim from Yoga Onboard. Kim was also organizing our food. She was shopping and cooking a couple of advance meals.
That's all for this edition. Join the intrepid crew of Bananas next month as we pit men and vessel against the most rowdy sea conditions this skipper has had the pleasure of surviving.
www.captainwoody.com
You know how it is when passion strikes. You jump all in. They immediately started looking for boats while John quickly found a need for his skills at a boatyard in the British Virgin Islands. Six weeks after their plans were hatched the two contacted me about sailing their new boat from Florida down to their new home in the BVI.
As John flew to FL to prep their new-to-them Beneteau 41 for a voyage to the islands, Whit was packing up the house and organizing the kids to come get their extra stuff. I had an open slot in my sailing schedule in four weeks time or we could leave in six days ... if they were ok with sailing around hurricanes. They opted for the asap option.
Back at the Lats offices I had been spying a little orange box that was sitting in our editor Sue's bookcase. Inside was one of those Spot devices. Haven't heard of Spot? It's a little waterproof device, the size of a small handheld vhf, that relays via satellite, your GPS position to people you've put on an email list. The box talks about safety this, safety that. I just wanted to use it to piss off my friends. We set it up with the findmespot.com people and I headed for FL.
Jacksonville was hot and humid which means to me that no matter how bad the conditions get out there the water filling the cockpit will keep my feet warm. John picked me up at the airport and we drove to the boat at one Sadler Point Marina. Somehow the boat didn't look like the broker ad ;). Still, I liked her. Beneteau makes reasonably sturdy boats for coastal cruising and more. This was an older one which was sturdier still. This boat had been raced hard but most of the gear looked like it worked. The work list had not been completed. Is it ever? I headed up the mast.
George and Nick were a couple of locals that stopped by with some valuable local knowledge about weather and tides and bridges and other info we would need to get out to the ocean. Thanks fellas. I quickly discovered that we were quite a ways from the sea. Younger Nick had a boat out on a mooring that he was prepping for his own cruising adventure. He hung around until our departure with the afternoon tide the next day. He worked hard and when John tried to pay him he refused. Nick was just happy to be part of our adventure.
I checked email one more time to get my departure weather report. Because it was hurricane season we had hired a pro wx guy based there in Fl. I did get an email but there was no report. It said that our wx guy was on vacation. Can he do that? We finally pushed off the dock. Our route to deeper water was complicated so it was lucky for us that we still had a route layed out on the gps from some previous adventure. We called the first bridge and got an opening right away. The second bridge was on a fixed schedule so we had 45 minutes to kill. We decided to pull up to a fuel dock to try and top off.
I know as much as anyone that the sea constantly tests us. What I wasn't thinking about at the time was that sometimes the sea's reach extends far inland. “Like landing an airplane,” I told John. Parking a boat when the current is flowing along an end tie is pretty easy. The water flowing by the keel and the rudder give you control when you are hardly moving. You just gently manuever over and 'set her down' against the dock.
Pay attention, I made a couple mistakes here that we can all learn from. We pulled up and John hopped ashore with the bow line and took a turn on a cleat mid-boat. I should have mentioned that we needed it on a cleat by the bow, mistake A. I turned the wheel to bring the stern in to the dock and stepped ashore, mistake B and C. I told John to move the line to the cleat at the bow while making fast my line to a cleat by the stern. It was at this point that I realized my mistakes and their compounding consequenses. Because the rudder was turned the current quickly drove the bow out and away from the dock. I was lucky that John was holding the longest dock line I'd ever seen. He was able to get a wrap on a cleat forward. Even with the two of us pulling we could not bring the boat back in.
There was the boat sitting 30 feet off the dock on two lines pulling very hard to get free. At least the situation had stabilized ... sort of. I looked at the bow line and saw a badly frayed section about half way out. I looked way aft at the hard looking low steel bridge that was patiently waiting to eat John's boat. Just then Bubba walked up. I don't know what his real name was but you know what I mean. He was a big shrimp fed local boy. He wasn't laughing, I don't know why not 'cause it was funny. I loosened up the stern line and us three brought the bow back to the dock. We got a third line on and I took my first breath. John seemed unphazed.
We got away easily (with more thought than the landing) and got through our last bridge. We followed the buoys until dark and then some. A miniature Coast Guard cutter approached. These guys were cool. They turned on the spotlight to read the name of the boat but had the class to not shine it directly at us. They carried on past, but returned on a dinghy. We got boarded. These guys went about their business quickly and professionally. They were even nice enough to zip tie the forward 3-way in the open position. They left while we were still smiling. As the last guy went to step off he looked over his shoulder and said, “You're not going out tonight?”
I think he was referring to the wind and the big swell. A hurricane had just gone through and was coming ashore in N. Carolina. I had been watching my own wx. It looked like gusts to 40 knots on the tail. It was a lot but I felt lucky that we had a tail wind going south to Miami. Why stop in Miami? The FL to BVI sail only has a couple spots along the way that offer safety from an approaching hurricane. There was a real possibility that we could be caught out. This boat was new to both of us. I wanted a break-in leg to see what we had. It worked out well because Miami was where my crew lived, yogini Kim from Yoga Onboard. Kim was also organizing our food. She was shopping and cooking a couple of advance meals.
That's all for this edition. Join the intrepid crew of Bananas next month as we pit men and vessel against the most rowdy sea conditions this skipper has had the pleasure of surviving.
www.captainwoody.com
November 8, 2008
Panama to FL II - #103
Although I am getting my share of foreign landfalls the dream stays entrenched for me by knocking out projects on Low Key. I am gathering the pieces for an electric motor set up including some borrowed parts from a golf cart. A key part to off the grid bliss is getting the most from our solar panels. I'm adding a Solar Boost charge controller to my set up. Everyone should know about these. They extract 30% more juice than the old technology. You can get them from our friends at blueskyenergyinc.com.
When I left you last month Wade and I had just been boarded by the Coast Guard off Nicaragua while delivering a 43' Beneteau named Camaraderie II from Panama to Miami. Shortly after that we rounded the top of Nicaragua and were on a beautiful broad reach toward Mexico. Mostly we ran with just the full headsail, rolling her up some for the odd squall. The weather was great, the seas were low, the boat was going fast. It was warm and sunny most of the time as we skimmed along through that deep blue Caribbean water. The boat lacked shade in the cockpit. Wade and I rigged a tarp to provide relief during the hot part of the day. We had dolphins by day, shooting starts at night - both are good luck you know.
We had run the fuel tank dry before making the turn for Mex. Running a tank dry can clog filters. If you're not getting your fuel polished it's not so bad to run the tank down to get that stuff to filter out. We took advantage of the calm downwind conditions to empty a fuel jug into the tank and change the primary fuel filter. Note that with most boat diesels, the engine revs up when getting starved of fuel. A switched on crew immediately shifts to neutral while shutting the engine down. If done quickly, no engine bleeding is required. In ideal conditions, always let a diesel run in neutral for a couple minutes to cool down before shutting her off.
Almost five days after leaving Panama we arrived in Mex at a little island NW of Cancun called Isla Mujeres. There was a regatta on that had filled the swell plagued outer marinas and so we pulled in to the Marina Puerto IM. We hopped up on the dock with our coldies and stretched our legs.
There on the dock was a big Jacuzzi. That's right, a Jacuzzi. Mrs. Longacre, a Lats contributor, was having an afternoon soak and a coldy. A different cruising couple, these two out of Galveston, were kind enough to offer us a few pesos so that we could catch a cab into town. How nice is that??
I met with the marina's agent Herman who offered to check us into the marina and in and out of Mex … on a Sunday. We agreed on a price and then Wade and I hit the town. IM is close enough to Cancun to get some of the tourist crowd but isolated enough to still have it's own pueblo flavor. Downtown has beautiful white sand beaches that run into that light blue Caribbean water. We ate and had some coldies on the regatta pier where all the sailing folk were hanging out. Up the cobblestone streets I grabbed some gifts for friends and family back home.
After dark we wandered in a couple blocks to the main thoroughfare. This is where IM shines. It is an avenue that travels the length of the little town and is lined with restaurant/bars. Each one is has a different theme and feel. We picked and chose our pit stops carefully on the criteria of: funny crowd, special drink, street entertainment? Ya, street entertainment. Our last stop had a kid, euro backpacker type, playing the conga across the walk street from our table. His friends emerged from the shadows and joined in with various instruments. The tempo and volume built and the crowd gathered. One of the tattered performers starting dunking ropes in a liquid he pulled from his backpack. Our impromptu street jam turned into a tribal fire dance with a jungle beat. The dancer swung his burning ropes all about as he jumped in and out of the rings of fire. The line of female tourists sitting behind us exploded in cheers, oohs and ah's.
First thing in the morning we pulled around to the fuel dock to fuel and await our agent. He showed up with some surprise fee increases. Normally I would have turned him away and completed the check in/out myself but that would have meant at least another 24 hours in port. At my daily delivery rate that wouldn't have made sense. He had me and he knew it.
We headed out into the sea making the change from the Caribbean to the Gulf of Mexico. We had good conditions as we beat toward the western tip of Cuba. That is to say as good as we could expect. We had 20-30 knots apparent off the starboard bow. It was sunny and the seas were manageable and we had that tail current giving us a hand (or is it a foot to the backside). The gps gave us our speed toward the waypoint (Velocity Made Good) which kept us knowing when we had found the thick part of the current. Also important is tacking around to find the lowest seas. Again and again we found both which made for a blistering bash to windward making 6-7 knots VMG the whole leg. Shooting stars, phosphorescence, and on and on – it was as nice of an upwind ride as we could have hoped.
Two days later we arrived at Hemingway's Island, little Key West. I called the CG on my cel phone and they told us to take a berth and walk in to Customs. We fueled and then got tied up at the City Dock (the cheapest at $2.50 a foot a night). Customs was closed by the time we got there so Wade and I headed into town to see if there was any chance a sailor find a couple coldies and maybe some entertainment. We found both. Wade and I started out at my old favorite, Sloppy Joe's for well earned hamburger, some brew and a sidewalk view. We caught the margarita contest over at Hogs Breath. The highlight for me was hanging out at Wade's favorite, The Green Parrot, listening to Irish Kevin pluck a four string homemade 'guitar' and sing about life in the bayou. We took a walk through the Haitian quarter and ended up back in town at some rooftop bar partying with a bunch of naked people. It happens.
I lost Wade for a couple hours but he rolled in 'round sunup. We left Key West on the tide (meaning when I felt ready). It was a beautiful day. We took advantage of Wade's local knowledge and ran up inside the reef 'tween the buoys and the Keys, flat and fast. That evening we headed outside to avoid the crab traps. It was nice out there too.
The next morning we arrived in Miami and pulled Cam II into her new home at Dinner Key Marina, safe and sound and in record time. We put away the boat and cleaned up. My friend Kim, author of Yoga Onboard, picked us up and took us to a dinner spot before dropping Wade off at his car and me at the airport.
www.captainwoody.com
When I left you last month Wade and I had just been boarded by the Coast Guard off Nicaragua while delivering a 43' Beneteau named Camaraderie II from Panama to Miami. Shortly after that we rounded the top of Nicaragua and were on a beautiful broad reach toward Mexico. Mostly we ran with just the full headsail, rolling her up some for the odd squall. The weather was great, the seas were low, the boat was going fast. It was warm and sunny most of the time as we skimmed along through that deep blue Caribbean water. The boat lacked shade in the cockpit. Wade and I rigged a tarp to provide relief during the hot part of the day. We had dolphins by day, shooting starts at night - both are good luck you know.
We had run the fuel tank dry before making the turn for Mex. Running a tank dry can clog filters. If you're not getting your fuel polished it's not so bad to run the tank down to get that stuff to filter out. We took advantage of the calm downwind conditions to empty a fuel jug into the tank and change the primary fuel filter. Note that with most boat diesels, the engine revs up when getting starved of fuel. A switched on crew immediately shifts to neutral while shutting the engine down. If done quickly, no engine bleeding is required. In ideal conditions, always let a diesel run in neutral for a couple minutes to cool down before shutting her off.
Almost five days after leaving Panama we arrived in Mex at a little island NW of Cancun called Isla Mujeres. There was a regatta on that had filled the swell plagued outer marinas and so we pulled in to the Marina Puerto IM. We hopped up on the dock with our coldies and stretched our legs.
There on the dock was a big Jacuzzi. That's right, a Jacuzzi. Mrs. Longacre, a Lats contributor, was having an afternoon soak and a coldy. A different cruising couple, these two out of Galveston, were kind enough to offer us a few pesos so that we could catch a cab into town. How nice is that??
I met with the marina's agent Herman who offered to check us into the marina and in and out of Mex … on a Sunday. We agreed on a price and then Wade and I hit the town. IM is close enough to Cancun to get some of the tourist crowd but isolated enough to still have it's own pueblo flavor. Downtown has beautiful white sand beaches that run into that light blue Caribbean water. We ate and had some coldies on the regatta pier where all the sailing folk were hanging out. Up the cobblestone streets I grabbed some gifts for friends and family back home.
After dark we wandered in a couple blocks to the main thoroughfare. This is where IM shines. It is an avenue that travels the length of the little town and is lined with restaurant/bars. Each one is has a different theme and feel. We picked and chose our pit stops carefully on the criteria of: funny crowd, special drink, street entertainment? Ya, street entertainment. Our last stop had a kid, euro backpacker type, playing the conga across the walk street from our table. His friends emerged from the shadows and joined in with various instruments. The tempo and volume built and the crowd gathered. One of the tattered performers starting dunking ropes in a liquid he pulled from his backpack. Our impromptu street jam turned into a tribal fire dance with a jungle beat. The dancer swung his burning ropes all about as he jumped in and out of the rings of fire. The line of female tourists sitting behind us exploded in cheers, oohs and ah's.
First thing in the morning we pulled around to the fuel dock to fuel and await our agent. He showed up with some surprise fee increases. Normally I would have turned him away and completed the check in/out myself but that would have meant at least another 24 hours in port. At my daily delivery rate that wouldn't have made sense. He had me and he knew it.
We headed out into the sea making the change from the Caribbean to the Gulf of Mexico. We had good conditions as we beat toward the western tip of Cuba. That is to say as good as we could expect. We had 20-30 knots apparent off the starboard bow. It was sunny and the seas were manageable and we had that tail current giving us a hand (or is it a foot to the backside). The gps gave us our speed toward the waypoint (Velocity Made Good) which kept us knowing when we had found the thick part of the current. Also important is tacking around to find the lowest seas. Again and again we found both which made for a blistering bash to windward making 6-7 knots VMG the whole leg. Shooting stars, phosphorescence, and on and on – it was as nice of an upwind ride as we could have hoped.
Two days later we arrived at Hemingway's Island, little Key West. I called the CG on my cel phone and they told us to take a berth and walk in to Customs. We fueled and then got tied up at the City Dock (the cheapest at $2.50 a foot a night). Customs was closed by the time we got there so Wade and I headed into town to see if there was any chance a sailor find a couple coldies and maybe some entertainment. We found both. Wade and I started out at my old favorite, Sloppy Joe's for well earned hamburger, some brew and a sidewalk view. We caught the margarita contest over at Hogs Breath. The highlight for me was hanging out at Wade's favorite, The Green Parrot, listening to Irish Kevin pluck a four string homemade 'guitar' and sing about life in the bayou. We took a walk through the Haitian quarter and ended up back in town at some rooftop bar partying with a bunch of naked people. It happens.
I lost Wade for a couple hours but he rolled in 'round sunup. We left Key West on the tide (meaning when I felt ready). It was a beautiful day. We took advantage of Wade's local knowledge and ran up inside the reef 'tween the buoys and the Keys, flat and fast. That evening we headed outside to avoid the crab traps. It was nice out there too.
The next morning we arrived in Miami and pulled Cam II into her new home at Dinner Key Marina, safe and sound and in record time. We put away the boat and cleaned up. My friend Kim, author of Yoga Onboard, picked us up and took us to a dinner spot before dropping Wade off at his car and me at the airport.
www.captainwoody.com
August 6, 2008
Oregon to San Diego - #100
I get a lot of work moving boats uphill - upwind, upswell, upcurrent - and it's work I'm glad to have. But every now and then I get a nice downhill run. At the end of '07 I brought a just-commissioned Beneteau 43 from San Diego to Oregon with the owners and their daughter onboard (issue #91). There were some bumpy parts but it was an easy trip. Last month that same boat was ready to come back.
My brother Rusty lives on a lake in the pine forest above Seattle and so I popped in for a visit. This time we took out the "lake boat" - a section of floating dock with lounge chairs, a cooler and an electric motor. I then drove the 500 miles to Brookings Oregon. That is amazing scenery, steep and green without much development. I stopped at Depoe Bay. They have an amazingly jagged harbor entrance. I felt compelled to have a quick coldie at the Pirates Booty. A perfect dive, the locals welcomed me in like family. It made me want to stay … until my beer ran out.
I was the first to arrive at the boat. The docks at Brookings are full of old fishing boats and derelicts. Our new white Beneteau had just been polished and stood out like a pearl in a bin of shucked oysters. It was going to be me and the family again only this time we would have both of their twenty-something daughters. Looked like I would be sleeping in the saloon again. I dropped my stuff off and walked over to the seaside diner to get my last meal. I love those little local places.
When I returned to the boat the clan had assembled and was raring to go. We checked the engine and secured gear and fired her up. The boat was new before we left on her maiden voyage, the trip that brought her up. They tried to get someone to do the first engine service while she sat in Brookings but never found anyone qualified. This was unfortunate but as Captain Ron says, "If it's going to happen, it's going to happen out there." And so we left.
Just as we passed the outer wall, engine alarms started going off. We shut her down. Motor shmotor, this was a sailboat. We would just sail for a while. I went to crank out the in-mast furling. It jammed. "It's OK," the dad explained, "the same thing happened on the harbor checkout cruise. The dealer said that it's normal. You just have to crank it in and out a few times until it un-jams." Two words: Stack Pack.
Down below in the ER I could see shreds of the belt hanging below the belt cover. The replacement belt was a little small. While I was contemplating the situation I overheard the mom on the cell phone leaving a message for their Beneteau guy to call us back adding, "It's an emergency". I cringed. We try not to use that word around boats unless we mean it. While awaiting the thrumming of helicopter blades; three of us pushing, pulling and prying got the belt on.
Back on deck it was raining high-end ball bearings. Someone had mounted the boom track too far forward and when the furling main was brought all the way out it pulled right off the track. Remarkably they are still making these track cars with loose bearings. For icing we had the standard Raymarine issues with intermittent gps signal, random resetting and kindergarten software.
But finally we were at sea, home sweet home, cruising merrily along down the coast. It was end of winter so it was chilly. I didn't bring my heavy foulies, I like to travel carry-on when I can. With 5 onboard I was expecting short watches. As I was making up the watch schedule it was explained that the kids would not be doing their own watches. That sounded nice, some quality time sharing watches with mom and dad, something that families don't do enough of in my opinion. Then pops started to not feel well, he had a stomach issue, which left just two of us doing watches. I have to say that mom and the girls, admirably, picked up the slack. I talked to him about doing his laying around while sharing a watch up in the cockpit but he was too ill for that.
Me and mom had a talk. If dad was on the verge of death maybe being at sea was not the safest place for him. We decided to get him to shore. We pulled into beautiful Bodega Bay. One idea that filtered through was that the parents would drive a car back down to San Diego while the girls and I carried on with the delivery. Right about the time Dad caught wind of that plan he made a miraculous recovery. We fueled up and headed back out to sea.
A note when cruising the west coast. We had been seeing a lot of crab pots so I consulted a local fisherman (common cruising oracle). Bodega's Jonny Cod informed me that we would see pots out to 60. Seems I had been seeing pots out to 150 feet deep. No, he corrected me, fathoms, which is 360 feet. That's some ambitious crabbing I thought. Cold dark water is the one thing I admit to being afraid of (besides Canadian midget strippers). With no kelp cutters on the prop I moved our gps track out past the 360' line.
We blew by San Francisco without incident. On the radio the Coast Guard was issuing a weather warning. Seems we would soon be running in 40 knots of wind. I had confidence in the boat and thought to carry on. The boss and I talked it over and decided that they weren't fired up to weather the blow at sea. We pulled into Moro Bay. On the upside I had not come into Moro from sea before. On the downside we were going to miss the first good wind of the trip and a prime opportunity to put the boat through her paces. It's a great way to find out about things we may want to adjust or change on the boat. Another downside is that bad weather can close an entrance to a bay like Moro which would trap me. I guess I'm afraid of that too.
We pulled up and parked in front of the Moro Bay Yacht Club. What a great group of people. We also met young Dane heading out to cruise (http://danejyhrr.blogspot.com/). Back onboard another plan was hatched. With our new schedule the girls were going to miss their flights out of San Diego so the family decided they’ed all hop in a car and drive down. I started the crew search. She works a lot and so is rarely available. Great company, great food and seasick-proof, having Dena available to crew an easy downwind leg was like getting Babe Ruth off the bench for a local softball game.
After spending two nice days trapped in Beautiful Moro Bay, Dena and I fueled and headed out through a still breaking bar entrance. The trip continued uneventfully. Like a typical leg cruising: smooth downwind conditions, dolphins everyday, passing through islands at night (Channel Isles), taking hors d'oeuvres and sunset coldies on the aft deck. In trade for servicing a head pump-out misstep (wasn't me) we won a few hours at our favorite local island stop – Two Harbors, Catalina. Beautiful boat, socal weather, Buffalo Milks and a live band on the deck of the Harbor Reef Bar.
Up early, a sunrise to sunset run brought us to our destination, funky San Diego, where the parents took Dena and I out to dinner overlooking the bay. A perfect wind up.
www.captainwoody.com
My brother Rusty lives on a lake in the pine forest above Seattle and so I popped in for a visit. This time we took out the "lake boat" - a section of floating dock with lounge chairs, a cooler and an electric motor. I then drove the 500 miles to Brookings Oregon. That is amazing scenery, steep and green without much development. I stopped at Depoe Bay. They have an amazingly jagged harbor entrance. I felt compelled to have a quick coldie at the Pirates Booty. A perfect dive, the locals welcomed me in like family. It made me want to stay … until my beer ran out.
I was the first to arrive at the boat. The docks at Brookings are full of old fishing boats and derelicts. Our new white Beneteau had just been polished and stood out like a pearl in a bin of shucked oysters. It was going to be me and the family again only this time we would have both of their twenty-something daughters. Looked like I would be sleeping in the saloon again. I dropped my stuff off and walked over to the seaside diner to get my last meal. I love those little local places.
When I returned to the boat the clan had assembled and was raring to go. We checked the engine and secured gear and fired her up. The boat was new before we left on her maiden voyage, the trip that brought her up. They tried to get someone to do the first engine service while she sat in Brookings but never found anyone qualified. This was unfortunate but as Captain Ron says, "If it's going to happen, it's going to happen out there." And so we left.
Just as we passed the outer wall, engine alarms started going off. We shut her down. Motor shmotor, this was a sailboat. We would just sail for a while. I went to crank out the in-mast furling. It jammed. "It's OK," the dad explained, "the same thing happened on the harbor checkout cruise. The dealer said that it's normal. You just have to crank it in and out a few times until it un-jams." Two words: Stack Pack.
Down below in the ER I could see shreds of the belt hanging below the belt cover. The replacement belt was a little small. While I was contemplating the situation I overheard the mom on the cell phone leaving a message for their Beneteau guy to call us back adding, "It's an emergency". I cringed. We try not to use that word around boats unless we mean it. While awaiting the thrumming of helicopter blades; three of us pushing, pulling and prying got the belt on.
Back on deck it was raining high-end ball bearings. Someone had mounted the boom track too far forward and when the furling main was brought all the way out it pulled right off the track. Remarkably they are still making these track cars with loose bearings. For icing we had the standard Raymarine issues with intermittent gps signal, random resetting and kindergarten software.
But finally we were at sea, home sweet home, cruising merrily along down the coast. It was end of winter so it was chilly. I didn't bring my heavy foulies, I like to travel carry-on when I can. With 5 onboard I was expecting short watches. As I was making up the watch schedule it was explained that the kids would not be doing their own watches. That sounded nice, some quality time sharing watches with mom and dad, something that families don't do enough of in my opinion. Then pops started to not feel well, he had a stomach issue, which left just two of us doing watches. I have to say that mom and the girls, admirably, picked up the slack. I talked to him about doing his laying around while sharing a watch up in the cockpit but he was too ill for that.
Me and mom had a talk. If dad was on the verge of death maybe being at sea was not the safest place for him. We decided to get him to shore. We pulled into beautiful Bodega Bay. One idea that filtered through was that the parents would drive a car back down to San Diego while the girls and I carried on with the delivery. Right about the time Dad caught wind of that plan he made a miraculous recovery. We fueled up and headed back out to sea.
A note when cruising the west coast. We had been seeing a lot of crab pots so I consulted a local fisherman (common cruising oracle). Bodega's Jonny Cod informed me that we would see pots out to 60. Seems I had been seeing pots out to 150 feet deep. No, he corrected me, fathoms, which is 360 feet. That's some ambitious crabbing I thought. Cold dark water is the one thing I admit to being afraid of (besides Canadian midget strippers). With no kelp cutters on the prop I moved our gps track out past the 360' line.
We blew by San Francisco without incident. On the radio the Coast Guard was issuing a weather warning. Seems we would soon be running in 40 knots of wind. I had confidence in the boat and thought to carry on. The boss and I talked it over and decided that they weren't fired up to weather the blow at sea. We pulled into Moro Bay. On the upside I had not come into Moro from sea before. On the downside we were going to miss the first good wind of the trip and a prime opportunity to put the boat through her paces. It's a great way to find out about things we may want to adjust or change on the boat. Another downside is that bad weather can close an entrance to a bay like Moro which would trap me. I guess I'm afraid of that too.
We pulled up and parked in front of the Moro Bay Yacht Club. What a great group of people. We also met young Dane heading out to cruise (http://danejyhrr.blogspot.com/). Back onboard another plan was hatched. With our new schedule the girls were going to miss their flights out of San Diego so the family decided they’ed all hop in a car and drive down. I started the crew search. She works a lot and so is rarely available. Great company, great food and seasick-proof, having Dena available to crew an easy downwind leg was like getting Babe Ruth off the bench for a local softball game.
After spending two nice days trapped in Beautiful Moro Bay, Dena and I fueled and headed out through a still breaking bar entrance. The trip continued uneventfully. Like a typical leg cruising: smooth downwind conditions, dolphins everyday, passing through islands at night (Channel Isles), taking hors d'oeuvres and sunset coldies on the aft deck. In trade for servicing a head pump-out misstep (wasn't me) we won a few hours at our favorite local island stop – Two Harbors, Catalina. Beautiful boat, socal weather, Buffalo Milks and a live band on the deck of the Harbor Reef Bar.
Up early, a sunrise to sunset run brought us to our destination, funky San Diego, where the parents took Dena and I out to dinner overlooking the bay. A perfect wind up.
www.captainwoody.com
May 8, 2008
Cruising Sail Trim - #97
Last month I wrote about our cruise from Hawaii to Guam. It was a 3500nm downhill tradewind adventure. Being a 41’ full keeled boat they estimated it would take us 36 days. It took 25. It’s a myth that sailing slower is more comfortable. A slower moving boat is more likely to be rolly. You would have to have someone smarter than me explain the physics to you but the faster the keel is moving through the water the more stable your cruising platform. Though I enjoy being at sea, I cruise for the destinations. We all know the old cruiser adage, “If you’re adjusting the sails more than once a week, then you’re not cruising”. Playing with the sails is part of the fun for me as is sitting back and enjoying my boat chugging along efficiently. Ninety percent of my circumnavigation was sailing downwind. Hopefully, most of your cruising will take place on downwind routes. The following are a few of the things I do to get a boat running off the wind both comfortably and fast.
The best way to get the boat to sail on deep downwind angles is to set a poled out, large size, genoa. Some cruisers use two headsails at once, both poled out. Even with our Guam-bound full-keeler, we found that we had plenty of horsepower with just the one large headsail poled out. We could run as deep as 155 degrees off the wind without the autopilot trying to execute surprise jibes - our only limitation.
Quick definition: a jib's clew does not reach the mast. A genoa's clew reaches to the mast and beyond. They are both headsails. I mostly call the sail at the front of the boat a headsail to avoid a verbal foible (say that 3x fast and then go check out your headsail).
To rig the headsail on a spinnaker pole you need two lines besides the headsail sheet. If your boat is set up for spinnakering you call these lines the topping lift and the foreguy. Without these dedicated lines you can use a spare halyard and a line tied forward (be aware of chafe at the mast sheave). Run the sheet through the outboard end of the pole. Attach the topping and foreguy, attach the pole to the mast and then hoist the topping. Unfurl the headsail and adjust the three lines so that the pole is horizontal and an inch or two forward of the shrouds. When crossing the lake they call the South Atlantic Ocean, the wind would often die at night and we would douse the headsail leaving the pole up, tied to a shroud, for use in the morning.
Why use the three lines? Chafe. I dodged a lot of work and expense on my voyage by always securing the spars. With a three line brace keeping things from moving around, the pole doesn’t grind at the mast ring and the sheet doesn’t chafe in the end fitting. An additional benefit is the ability to adjust the pole and thus the sail shape. Same goes for the mainsail boom. Your boom should not be moving around on any point of sail. I see it all the time and I suspect that it is the reason for so many at-sea gooseneck failures. Secure the boom. Low Key used two mainsheets (2x standard block and tackle with a cam cleat). This got rid of the traveler, opened up the cockpit, made boom adjustment more accurate and stopped the boom from moving around. Off the wind I would move one of the sheets forward to act as a foreguy/preventer/stabilizer. Again, the two sheets and the leech of the sail created our three line brace. If I wanted a more full sail downwind I could tighten up the main topping (the topping should never be tight upwind).
If you find yourself in the unenviable position of leaving on a long downwind voyage without a spinnaker pole don’t fret, there‘s another option. A boomed out headsail will get you there just slightly off the pace. Try as I might I could not find a spinnaker pole in all of Oahu. We hung the boom over the side of the boat, rigged a line to pull the end of it forward (a foreguy) and used the topping lift to adjust the height. Then we ran the heads’l sheet through a block clipped to the top of the end of the boom. You guessed it, jibing was a chore.
To determine perfect block placement for any headsail sheet you want to adjust it so the luff breaks evenly from the top to the bottom as you come up into the wind … in cruising, just eyeball it so the leech and the foot have a similar curve. For our rig this meant putting the boom end pretty low. This made for a wet end every now and then. Boats that break booms do so because they use a vang downwind. Vangs are rigged to the middle of the boom. When the end of the boom eventually dips in the water, and it will, the boom snaps at the vang attachment. When you secure your boom with lines to the end, the weight of the water is sent through the foreguy instead.
When the wind eased up and the boat would slow to a knot or two we’d pull up the mizzen and sheet it hard to center to reduce the rolling. Same when waiting for wind or motorsailing through a calm if there is still some swell running it is good to have the main and/or mizzen up, sheeted in, to keep the boat from rolling side to side. The slapping noise you will get used to. It’s the howl from the galley when supper launches across the saloon that we are trying to avoid.
With the wind on the beam you can fly all sails. As the wind moves aft the main starts to blanket the headsail so we take the main down and pole out the headsail. As the wind goes further aft the mizzen starts to blanket the headsail and so bring it down if you‘ve got one. Your headsail is most powerful when it is not getting bad airflow from other sails.
Motor on during squalls? What's that about? Don't add to your potential problems (ie: lines swept over the rail and into the prop). If you have tons of sea room and you can sail in the direction you want to go then reef down until you are comfortable. Caught by surprise? Turn and run. It reduces the pressure on the sails while you figure out what the hell you’re going to do. Keep in mind that running can keep you in the squall for longer - a good thing if you‘re on course.
On a separate note: I know that the big guy has written a wonderful accounting of our New Zealand sailing adventure later in this issue. I want to say hey to a few people that helped out. Thank you to Cheryl and Jody for looking after the trip details when I was off on other sailing adventures. Thanks to cruisers Rick and Robin and Randy and Sheri. Also, the wonderful Kiwis that made our NZ visit so perfect. Our thanks to: Phil for the great cruising info and for being an instant friend. John M. and the Island Cruising Association for helping with our big Party (and for being there for cruisers). Brenden, Daryl, Loraine and Dan and the rest of the shore crew for prepping the boats and always being so cheery. Tiny for ‘volunteering’ (great to see you again) and lead vocals. Olivia, we love you. Shane and Helen, you guys rock!!
www.captainwoody.com
The best way to get the boat to sail on deep downwind angles is to set a poled out, large size, genoa. Some cruisers use two headsails at once, both poled out. Even with our Guam-bound full-keeler, we found that we had plenty of horsepower with just the one large headsail poled out. We could run as deep as 155 degrees off the wind without the autopilot trying to execute surprise jibes - our only limitation.
Quick definition: a jib's clew does not reach the mast. A genoa's clew reaches to the mast and beyond. They are both headsails. I mostly call the sail at the front of the boat a headsail to avoid a verbal foible (say that 3x fast and then go check out your headsail).
To rig the headsail on a spinnaker pole you need two lines besides the headsail sheet. If your boat is set up for spinnakering you call these lines the topping lift and the foreguy. Without these dedicated lines you can use a spare halyard and a line tied forward (be aware of chafe at the mast sheave). Run the sheet through the outboard end of the pole. Attach the topping and foreguy, attach the pole to the mast and then hoist the topping. Unfurl the headsail and adjust the three lines so that the pole is horizontal and an inch or two forward of the shrouds. When crossing the lake they call the South Atlantic Ocean, the wind would often die at night and we would douse the headsail leaving the pole up, tied to a shroud, for use in the morning.
Why use the three lines? Chafe. I dodged a lot of work and expense on my voyage by always securing the spars. With a three line brace keeping things from moving around, the pole doesn’t grind at the mast ring and the sheet doesn’t chafe in the end fitting. An additional benefit is the ability to adjust the pole and thus the sail shape. Same goes for the mainsail boom. Your boom should not be moving around on any point of sail. I see it all the time and I suspect that it is the reason for so many at-sea gooseneck failures. Secure the boom. Low Key used two mainsheets (2x standard block and tackle with a cam cleat). This got rid of the traveler, opened up the cockpit, made boom adjustment more accurate and stopped the boom from moving around. Off the wind I would move one of the sheets forward to act as a foreguy/preventer/stabilizer. Again, the two sheets and the leech of the sail created our three line brace. If I wanted a more full sail downwind I could tighten up the main topping (the topping should never be tight upwind).
If you find yourself in the unenviable position of leaving on a long downwind voyage without a spinnaker pole don’t fret, there‘s another option. A boomed out headsail will get you there just slightly off the pace. Try as I might I could not find a spinnaker pole in all of Oahu. We hung the boom over the side of the boat, rigged a line to pull the end of it forward (a foreguy) and used the topping lift to adjust the height. Then we ran the heads’l sheet through a block clipped to the top of the end of the boom. You guessed it, jibing was a chore.
To determine perfect block placement for any headsail sheet you want to adjust it so the luff breaks evenly from the top to the bottom as you come up into the wind … in cruising, just eyeball it so the leech and the foot have a similar curve. For our rig this meant putting the boom end pretty low. This made for a wet end every now and then. Boats that break booms do so because they use a vang downwind. Vangs are rigged to the middle of the boom. When the end of the boom eventually dips in the water, and it will, the boom snaps at the vang attachment. When you secure your boom with lines to the end, the weight of the water is sent through the foreguy instead.
When the wind eased up and the boat would slow to a knot or two we’d pull up the mizzen and sheet it hard to center to reduce the rolling. Same when waiting for wind or motorsailing through a calm if there is still some swell running it is good to have the main and/or mizzen up, sheeted in, to keep the boat from rolling side to side. The slapping noise you will get used to. It’s the howl from the galley when supper launches across the saloon that we are trying to avoid.
With the wind on the beam you can fly all sails. As the wind moves aft the main starts to blanket the headsail so we take the main down and pole out the headsail. As the wind goes further aft the mizzen starts to blanket the headsail and so bring it down if you‘ve got one. Your headsail is most powerful when it is not getting bad airflow from other sails.
Motor on during squalls? What's that about? Don't add to your potential problems (ie: lines swept over the rail and into the prop). If you have tons of sea room and you can sail in the direction you want to go then reef down until you are comfortable. Caught by surprise? Turn and run. It reduces the pressure on the sails while you figure out what the hell you’re going to do. Keep in mind that running can keep you in the squall for longer - a good thing if you‘re on course.
On a separate note: I know that the big guy has written a wonderful accounting of our New Zealand sailing adventure later in this issue. I want to say hey to a few people that helped out. Thank you to Cheryl and Jody for looking after the trip details when I was off on other sailing adventures. Thanks to cruisers Rick and Robin and Randy and Sheri. Also, the wonderful Kiwis that made our NZ visit so perfect. Our thanks to: Phil for the great cruising info and for being an instant friend. John M. and the Island Cruising Association for helping with our big Party (and for being there for cruisers). Brenden, Daryl, Loraine and Dan and the rest of the shore crew for prepping the boats and always being so cheery. Tiny for ‘volunteering’ (great to see you again) and lead vocals. Olivia, we love you. Shane and Helen, you guys rock!!
www.captainwoody.com
March 8, 2008
Puerto Vallarta to Mazatlan - #95
Bob called me into his office. As I walked down the hall I wondered what I had done this time or at least, what he had caught me doing this time. I got back there and he let me know that my traveling, boat moving, technical skills were requested in a margarita rich environment. That's right, I was headed to Puerto Vallarta. For those who don't get south much PV's on the mainland across from Cabo San Lucas in the greener part of Mexico. The new owners of the Lost Soul were busy breaking-in their new boat and wanted a little guidance. I had overseen much of the refit and so I got on a plane. Lucky for me, young Dena was available to take a week off and join me on this adventure.
I appreciate it every time, stepping out of the doorway of a small plane onto the stairway to the tarmac and taking in all that is tropical from the humid warmth to the sweet jungle smell. We grabbed an airport coldie for the cab ride to Nuevo Vallarta. Paul found us wandering around the docks and greeted us with a friendly smile. I had forgotten what a grand impression the Lost Soul makes when you first walk up on her. Wherever she goes she is the most beautiful boat in the harbor with her piratical lines drawn out in black and white and complemented by her deeply varnished wood. The boat had never looked better. Paul and Ginny had been keeping her up. We got to know our new hosts over a coldie on the aft deck.
The plan was to take Lost Soul on a little round trip to Mazatlan and back. Rob joined up with us later that night. He's a kewl expat who does real estate in the area when he is not out sailing. Before sunup, about an hour before high tide, we departed for Mazatlan. The crew and I had a plan for departure. When all was set I gave a nod to indicate for everyone to take their positions. They did that and cast off the lines too. Next thing I knew we were adrift and with some current twisting us up. I had to throttle up quickly to pull the boat out before she swung her long bowsprit through the little 40' Hunter next door. The good news is I got the boat out of the slipway without incident, that is if you consider leaving one of the crew behind as 'without incident'. We picked up Paul down the dock a bit.
We unfurled some of the main and ran out into the dark predawn sea headed toward the entrance to Bahia Banderas. I checked that everything was running smoothly in the engine room and then came up and set the watch schedule. Just as I was headed down to reacquaint myself with the forward stateroom a large navy looking boat came up from astern with its spot light on us. We got the guy on the radio. They were the Mexican Coast Guard. They had some questions for us. We couldn't get him to speak English which of course is required on channel 16. No matter, Rob was nearly fluent and he answered the barrage of questions. I guess the boys on the cutter were just out practicing their technique.
We ran all day without much wind which means two things, motor on and not much swell. We were able to head straight for our destination without having to crack off the wind to avoid slamming. We didn't have swells to contend with but we did have rows and rows of fishing lines to avoid. We were fifty miles offshore. If you drew a line from one peninsula to the next, you know, the most likely rhumb line for all boats cruising the coast, you would find yourself in the middle of these miles long fishing lines rigged perpendicular to shore. During the day we did our best to avoid them. What did we do at night? We didn't worry about them. Lost Soul, rigged with every conceivable piece of boatshow gear happens to have kelp cutters on the prop. Apparently, they were working perfectly.
We pulled into Mazatlan when the dredge was working. That is a tight entrance as it is. The dredge waved us by. Dena spotted iguanas to starboard at one of the nice waterside hotels. We pulled up for fuel and the girls went ashore to get the check in process started. Paul, Rob and I fueled up and headed over to our slip for the night. It seemed like a nice spot to be parked stern-to where our big aft seating area would overlook the dock. I took three shots at it and much to the enjoyment of the dock cruisers I couldn't get it done. Without the training wheels working, I mean the bow thruster, and with a nice breeze on the beam I couldn't get her to back straight even with the helm hard over and moving fast. We could have dropped the bow anchor but decided to flip around and pull straight in.
We all got our showers and met up at the marina's cruiser café where frosty beverages could allegedly be found. We caught a bus into town and found the best little restaurant right above the sand over looking the bay. The sun set over carne asadas and margaritas. Afterward we happened upon a custom convertible VW taxi with high viewing bench seats. Manuel dropped us at the Captain's restaurant where we joined with the locals and danced the night away.
We took off from Mazatlan the next morning. It was a nice day. It would have been perfect but there was no wind. That made for flat calm motoring. Even though we went further out we still encountered the fishing maze. Downwind this time we arrived back at PV quickly but had to wait for the tide to come up to get into the marina. I went through the docking procedure with the crew giving each instructions. It would be tricky with the tide running perpendicular to the narrow slip. I would have one shot at it. If I missed we would be swept into the shallows. We came in slow and just up current of the slip I clicked into reverse and started my turn to port and throttled up. With a left handed prop this brought the bow around hard to port and across the current. This is about when I noticed that one of my crewmembers, the one that was enlisted to man the roaming fender was standing empty handed. I let out an, "oh sh#%". Not something I would recommend as it tends to distract the crew. I got the big girl into the slip just as the current helped us against the dock … at a spot without a fender. Yep, I rubbed off some paint. After all the adventures Lost Soul had delivered me safely to and through, this was how I chose to repay her? It was my fault for not checking that everyone was ready to go before pulling in. Rob tried to comfort me confident that his guy could rub it out.
We all met up at the yacht club for one last pow-wow before Dena and I had to depart. It was great sailing on Lost Soul again. Hopefully it won't be the last time.
I'm finishing this up at an airport in Costa Rica. I'm headed to Bocas del Toro, Panama to deliver a Gulfstar 41 to Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela. Yep, 1100 miles upwind in the breeziest time of year. We're expecting close to 40 knots on the nose off Cartegena. Wish us luck.
www.captainwoody.com
I appreciate it every time, stepping out of the doorway of a small plane onto the stairway to the tarmac and taking in all that is tropical from the humid warmth to the sweet jungle smell. We grabbed an airport coldie for the cab ride to Nuevo Vallarta. Paul found us wandering around the docks and greeted us with a friendly smile. I had forgotten what a grand impression the Lost Soul makes when you first walk up on her. Wherever she goes she is the most beautiful boat in the harbor with her piratical lines drawn out in black and white and complemented by her deeply varnished wood. The boat had never looked better. Paul and Ginny had been keeping her up. We got to know our new hosts over a coldie on the aft deck.
The plan was to take Lost Soul on a little round trip to Mazatlan and back. Rob joined up with us later that night. He's a kewl expat who does real estate in the area when he is not out sailing. Before sunup, about an hour before high tide, we departed for Mazatlan. The crew and I had a plan for departure. When all was set I gave a nod to indicate for everyone to take their positions. They did that and cast off the lines too. Next thing I knew we were adrift and with some current twisting us up. I had to throttle up quickly to pull the boat out before she swung her long bowsprit through the little 40' Hunter next door. The good news is I got the boat out of the slipway without incident, that is if you consider leaving one of the crew behind as 'without incident'. We picked up Paul down the dock a bit.
We unfurled some of the main and ran out into the dark predawn sea headed toward the entrance to Bahia Banderas. I checked that everything was running smoothly in the engine room and then came up and set the watch schedule. Just as I was headed down to reacquaint myself with the forward stateroom a large navy looking boat came up from astern with its spot light on us. We got the guy on the radio. They were the Mexican Coast Guard. They had some questions for us. We couldn't get him to speak English which of course is required on channel 16. No matter, Rob was nearly fluent and he answered the barrage of questions. I guess the boys on the cutter were just out practicing their technique.
We ran all day without much wind which means two things, motor on and not much swell. We were able to head straight for our destination without having to crack off the wind to avoid slamming. We didn't have swells to contend with but we did have rows and rows of fishing lines to avoid. We were fifty miles offshore. If you drew a line from one peninsula to the next, you know, the most likely rhumb line for all boats cruising the coast, you would find yourself in the middle of these miles long fishing lines rigged perpendicular to shore. During the day we did our best to avoid them. What did we do at night? We didn't worry about them. Lost Soul, rigged with every conceivable piece of boatshow gear happens to have kelp cutters on the prop. Apparently, they were working perfectly.
We pulled into Mazatlan when the dredge was working. That is a tight entrance as it is. The dredge waved us by. Dena spotted iguanas to starboard at one of the nice waterside hotels. We pulled up for fuel and the girls went ashore to get the check in process started. Paul, Rob and I fueled up and headed over to our slip for the night. It seemed like a nice spot to be parked stern-to where our big aft seating area would overlook the dock. I took three shots at it and much to the enjoyment of the dock cruisers I couldn't get it done. Without the training wheels working, I mean the bow thruster, and with a nice breeze on the beam I couldn't get her to back straight even with the helm hard over and moving fast. We could have dropped the bow anchor but decided to flip around and pull straight in.
We all got our showers and met up at the marina's cruiser café where frosty beverages could allegedly be found. We caught a bus into town and found the best little restaurant right above the sand over looking the bay. The sun set over carne asadas and margaritas. Afterward we happened upon a custom convertible VW taxi with high viewing bench seats. Manuel dropped us at the Captain's restaurant where we joined with the locals and danced the night away.
We took off from Mazatlan the next morning. It was a nice day. It would have been perfect but there was no wind. That made for flat calm motoring. Even though we went further out we still encountered the fishing maze. Downwind this time we arrived back at PV quickly but had to wait for the tide to come up to get into the marina. I went through the docking procedure with the crew giving each instructions. It would be tricky with the tide running perpendicular to the narrow slip. I would have one shot at it. If I missed we would be swept into the shallows. We came in slow and just up current of the slip I clicked into reverse and started my turn to port and throttled up. With a left handed prop this brought the bow around hard to port and across the current. This is about when I noticed that one of my crewmembers, the one that was enlisted to man the roaming fender was standing empty handed. I let out an, "oh sh#%". Not something I would recommend as it tends to distract the crew. I got the big girl into the slip just as the current helped us against the dock … at a spot without a fender. Yep, I rubbed off some paint. After all the adventures Lost Soul had delivered me safely to and through, this was how I chose to repay her? It was my fault for not checking that everyone was ready to go before pulling in. Rob tried to comfort me confident that his guy could rub it out.
We all met up at the yacht club for one last pow-wow before Dena and I had to depart. It was great sailing on Lost Soul again. Hopefully it won't be the last time.
I'm finishing this up at an airport in Costa Rica. I'm headed to Bocas del Toro, Panama to deliver a Gulfstar 41 to Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela. Yep, 1100 miles upwind in the breeziest time of year. We're expecting close to 40 knots on the nose off Cartegena. Wish us luck.
www.captainwoody.com