Adventures Aloft Alone

Six years ago I replaced the incandescent bulbs in the combination tri-color/anchor light at the masthead with LED units.  The light itself is an Aqua Signal Series 40 originally supplied with a 25W sailing light and a 10W anchor light. Each replacement (Dr LED) uses only 1W so the energy savings are substantial.  However as you've guessed, the dollar "savings" were painfully negative.

When testing gear this season I discovered that the tri-color was fine but the anchor light was not.  This wouldn't normally be an issue since I prefer deck level anchor lights, but this sort of thing tends to annoy.  I decided to make the repair.

Testing indicated the problem was with the bulb and after obtaining the ($60.00) replacement, I asked the yard to go up and do the job.  Unfortunately the crane normally used wouldn't reach the masthead, and getting enough experienced bodies to put me up in the chair was unlikely.  Other factors including impatience led me to rely once again on my MastMate climbing system, pictured in the photo at right.

The MastMate is a first class piece of gear.  I'd used it 4 times in the past 6 years: twice at the dock (photo right), once offshore en route to Bermuda, and once in harbor in Bermuda.  Each instance forced me to question my own sanity.  If you disagree, please refer to the photo below. 

 

It happens that the system works well.  I speak from the perspective of hating anything to do with higher altitudes, but common sense and the right gear makes it possible to survive the ordeal.  "Right Gear" includes a purpose built harness system available from the manufacturer (photo right).  I modified this rig to add another tether that's used when passing the spreaders (green webbing), so one is never unsecured.  I now feel sufficiently confident working at the top, but that's not to say I want to do it again next week.

The most pleasant part of an operation like this is stowing the tools and gear afterward.  If you are in a position to be stowing the MastMate after use, it indicates you're probably still alive.

 

Main Sheet Block Repair

Several years ago the Shaffer lower double block for the main sheet parted from the traveler slide during a short New England cruise.  I was able to limp by for quite a while until the system again failed in Newfoundland in 2010.  I was able to jury rig a repair with the help of a local fisherman, but the job needed to be addressed properly.  The slide is shown in the photo.  This article shows the repair.

Note that the slide has two welded  posts that secure the traveler control blocks.  I decided to fabricate (actually have fabricated) the new mount so that it fit over these two posts.  First I cleaned up the teak on which the traveler track is mounted (photo).






Next the shop cut and welded a piece of heavy stainless bar with part of a pin shackle.  I wired the spring mount in a compressed position while the block itself was secured to the base by welding.  The preliminary result is shown at left, and the final result at right.

Anchor Platform Repair

The CD 28 vintage 1981 employed an ash plank at the bow to support the anchor, and also to move the sail plan forward for balance.  The headstay was moved forward a bit and supported by a bobstay in later models.   Later versions also replaced the ash with teak.

Unfortunately ash is not well behaved when unprotected, unvarnished or (to put it mildly) actually used.  The result of such exposure is shown in the photo.  Yuck.

This means that every so often (a.k.a. too often) folks like me take the wood down to bare wood and start over.  Here's what this process look like after perhaps 3 or 4 delightful hours on one's knees.

The next step is to recoat with varnish.  In our case we went with 4 coats of (cheap) varnish, followed by machine sanding.  This provides a base to allow the final varnish coats.  I decided on 3 additional coats (for a total of 7), and found the result more utilitarian that glamorous.  Works for me.

And finally the result:

We're Back, Once Again ... We Think

It's been a while but this time we intend to follow through.  Yacht "Kerry Deare" went into the water on 01 June 2014, and the saga begins again.  We are presently working to restore (if that's the word) this yacht to operational condition.  That should be rather simple, because all that is necessary is to overcome a few seasons of layup (and all that entails).

So far the wood trim on deck has been under attack, the cabin sole has been brought up to snuff, and the diesel cooling system has been checked and repaired.  More to follow.

The Philadelphia Zoo

Well, Summer 2013 wasn't exactly about sailing.  However it was a little about New England (by car), a lot about family, and little more about ... just about everything.  And now for something completely different.

Yes, I know you thought this post was about the oldest zoo in the United States, the Philadelphia Zoo.  Well, I tricked you, and to make up for that here are the mandatory pics.  Then we'll get down to business.

 

 

OK, now for the real stuff.  My informed readers know that the Zoo is a few blocks from "The Neighborhood."  Naturally we went there first, heading north on Girard, making a left at 36th Street one block over to Cambridge, and then up Cambridge toward 40th.

The view up Cambridge from below 39th:

Union Street between Cambridge and Poplar, Jim's old house toward the left end of the row:

40th and Cambridge, looking up Cambridge.  No more "Gitaveigh":

What's left of 40th between Cambridge and Poplar (no more King Cole Bar):

 

THE STORE:

 

A "new" resident (4036 behind):

 

 

View toward 41st Street:

 

 

 

 



Sandy's Wake

A glimpse at the carnage left by Storm Sandy along the Toms River. This is a local marina called Shore Point.

 

Post Sandy

We hauled a few days before the storm's arrival.  In the photo at left you can see what a well hidden small sailing boat hiding along the NJ coast looks like.  The sailboat was lying on Toms River directly west of Seaside Heights NJ, and there was no question that she had to get on the hard (and fast).  She did so thanks to Bill and the crew at deRouville's Boat Shoppe.  In fact she rode out the event without consequence.  Meanwhile Sandy has picked her victims in a decidedly opportunistic fashion.  I will provide details and images when time allows.

We're Back!

It happens that we took a fiairly long holiday from Boat Stuff, to attend to Real Life Stuff.  Real Life Stuff refers to family stuff, and that means things that really count (i.e., non-boat things).  Things are now suffiiciently in hand to allow us to spend a bit of time on the yacht.  Speaking of which, the boat was splashed in mid-June 2012, she did not sink, and we will shortly be reporting on things of significance.

Sail Care Simplified

I have several friends who make a living building and repairing sails and they're not going to like what I say here, so let's just lay it on the table. Unless your sails are heavily damaged or need adjustments you simply cannot do by hand at home, there is absolutely no need to spend money sending sails to the sail loft annually. There, I've said it, and I'm stickin' to it. Now let's review the three standard methods that experienced sailors use to ruin a perfectly good sail, new or otherwise. Some of these tricks can accomplish the objective in a single summer sailing season. Others require more time, patience, and effort.

First, make sure you do everything in your power to guarantee chafe. Here are just a few suggestions. I know they work because I've tested them many times on my own boat.

• Never tape the rig.
• Have the main ride up and down on the standing rig as long as possible when sailing downwind.
• Flog the jib for a minimum of 35 seconds during each tack (45 seconds in winds over 20 knots).
• When handing the jib, make sure it drags in the water and removes all visible barnacles.
• Snag the jib on the anchor and maintain tension indefinitely.
• Hoist the main off wind and insure the battens are caught in the standing rig, then continue to hoist.
• Always fold sails on a concrete driveway (blacktop is a reasonable second choice).
• Avoid folding sails. Instead crumble and stuff them into the smallest sail bags you can find.
• When necessary, walk on the sails (street shoes only).

If you do the exact opposite of everything listed above you will be moving in the right direction.

Second, discard your sail covers immediately. You should never cover or bag sails. Exposing them to the sun for extended periods, particularly during summer, allows UV radiation to soften the material, making it much easier to handle. Unfortunately UV damage cannot be fully accomplished in a single sailing season, but you can get a good start. Good results take dedication but once you succeed, you'll be amazed at how easy sail handling becomes. One downside is that you may have to repeat UV degradation each time you buy new sails (and this will be often). But when you think back on the aggravation of furling stiff new sails and covering them with tight fitting covers, you'll be glad you took time to do the job right.

If you do the exact opposite of everything listed above you will be moving in the right direction.

Third, never wash your sails. To wash sails correctly they must actually be removed from the boat, and there are many better things to do during football season. Besides, leaving your sails bent on (and uncovered) during the winter gives your boat a ready-to-go appearance that will be the envy of your friends at the yard.

If you do the exact opposite of everything listed above you will be moving in the right direction.

Now that the fun's over let's get to the point of this diatribe: washing your sails. Avoiding chafe and preventing UV degradation are the basics that most folks have at least heard about, but salt in sails is the "silent killer." If you don't believe me ask your sailmaker the next time you're signing the check for that new sail. Dry salt crystals in sail fabric behave like a million sharp tiny knives, cutting into the material every time the sail moves. Eventually you can just push your finger right through the material, and while much of this is due to UV radiation, salt is a major factor. It's also something one can address, unlike pervasive UV exposure. Some sailors never wash their sails for logistical reasons, and some call in the sailmaker and just sign the check. But if you have (or can borrow) space to wash the sails annually, you will extend their life immeasurably. Yes, it's cold in November up north, and yes, it takes a little time to set up and clean up, but you will not regret the effort.

Basic sail care tools include simple cleaning supplies (right) and sufficient space to wash, rinse, and hang the sail. I like to wash sails on the lawn because this surface will not damage stitching or the material itself. I can then move the sail to the "dryer" without causing additional wear and tear. Be very careful when selecting cleaners. For most purposes regular dish washing detergent is sufficient and will not damage the material. In fact the real cleaning agent in this process is water itself: only water will dissolve the salt and rinse it away. You will also need a large clean brush, and I have found that a standard "push broom" is ideal. Just make sure it's dedicated to sail cleaning only, and not to sweeping the floor of your oil-stained garage.

Now lay out the sail flat on the lawn (above left) and rinse with water. After rinsing the sail for upwards of 55 minutes, do it again for another 55 minutes. Well OK, maybe that's a bit much, but you get the idea. Then actually wash the sail by filling the bucket with soapy water and brushing back and forth with the big broom. You really cannot overdo this, but eventually you'll get bored and cold and want to move on so turn the sail over and repeat the entire rinse and wash process from soaking to brushing. By the way, I never bother with stains on the sails unless there is a very good reason to remove them (oil, adhesives, etc.). Stains are not "slow" underway, and many times the cure is worse than the disease. I have some stains on my sails that go back decades and I cherish them, largely because I cherish the memories of where I got them.

Now that the sail has been thoroughly rinsed and brushed with soapy water, it's time to hang the sail for drying. The best method for drying sails is sailing on them in a gentle northwest breeze, but we cannot wait until next spring to do this so we resort to hanging them. I can usually find three strategic spots for rigging a snatch block (left) and using the sheets themselves to hoist the sail (right). It helps to have just the right amount of breeze if you can arrange it, but realistically this is late fall and we make do. The really important task once the sail is hanging and off the lawn is to continue rinsing with fresh water. Rinse both sides and continue rinsing. This gets the remaining soapy water and salt out of the fabric and really contributes to the life of the sail. We are getting close to the end of the road here, so bear with me.

After the sail has been hanging for 3 or 4 hours (and with any luck not flogging itself to death in the wind), I usually find that the lawn under the sail is itself sufficiently dry to allow dropping the sail and not getting it too wet. I don't worry too much about the errant strand of grass or weed getting tangled up in the sail, because it will disappear to leeward the first time the sail is used. I then take the sail inside and lay it out loosely in the basement for a few days to let it really dry. Next my wife and I fold the sail carefully (above left) while I shout incomprehensible commands and gesture erratically at her. She seems to really enjoy this, and I get that last whiff of the pleasures of command just at the end of the season. Finally I bag the sail and hang it from a hook in the basement where it's dry and cool all winter (above right). Here it rests until called into action in the spring.

This has been a long-winded description and if you're still awake you may want to know that I have several sails that are over 30 years old and still serviceable. I attribute their long life to the sail care described above.

... A Long Winter's Nap ...

Kerry Deare spends the winter ashore in New Jersey, and that usually means a few months of rough weather and snow. Over the years we have stored the boat both afloat and on land. In the past when storing on land we usually unstepped the mast each season and then by using the mast as a ridge pole and plastic tubing (HDPE irrigation pipe) for support, we covered the boat with a standard canvas tarp. The pros and cons about storing on land with mast stepped could fill many pages and I won't cover that subject. However in recent years with radar and other electronic gear now mounted on the backstay, unstepping the mast in fall and then stepping the mast and rewiring all the electronics in spring is impractical for me. Thus for the last several years we wintered the boat with the mast stepped. Unfortunately devising a good and simple protective cover with this arrangement evolves into a small but challenging engineering project. There have been several wrong turns along the way, but each winter we get closer to where we'd like to be.

The current frame system is based on the boat's small spars and standard flexible HDPE irrigation pipe (photo above). It seems to work well without too much fuss and expense, and it's easily set up and dismantled each year. We use the spinnaker pole as a "ridge" forward of the mast, and the adjustable whisker pole abaft the mast. We then fit the HDPE irrigation pipe at 6 locations using the lifeline stanchions and other parts of the deck to secure each piece loop. When finished, the frame system resembles a Conestoga wagon and usually generates a range of comments form the pros at the boatyard. Yet in the final tally it's both inexpensive and surprisingly sturdy. At our yard we're able to do most of the winterization while afloat, and we usually set up the frame while the boat is in the water to avoid climbing up and down the ladder. Once the boat is hauled and cleaned (photo right), we can fit the cover without much fuss.

For the first several winters using the current frame system we tried to fit standard rectangular plastic tarps around the standing rigging, but after several attempts we concluded that "simple" wasn't necessarily "better" when it comes to boat covers. Finally last winter we made a first pass at tailoring the standard blue plastic tarps to fit around the standing rigging more effectively. After much measuring, guessing, inhaling contact cement fumes, swearing, and zipping through a lifetime supply of expensive and exotic tapes, we obtained a reasonable first approximation that got us through the cold season. Prior to fitting the tailored cover once again this year, we made a few changes based on last year's results to get a better fit. The results are shown in the photos at left and at right above. This project, like most, is ongoing and no doubt there will be changes next time. It appears that building a winter cover follows the usual pattern observed on other boat projects: the third time is the trick.

There are several obvious places where a little tailoring helps to make a better job. Around the port and starboard shrouds it is usually difficult to both keep the weather out, and get a decent fit. Therefore we added heavily reinforced cuts port and starboard that can be laced around the shrouds (photo at left). The forward cover containing these slits is also cut to fit around the mast as well as around the headstay, and then secured by lacing. The reason for lacing instead of taping is that if the tape is sufficiently good to last during the winter, there is no simple method to remove the tape and at the same time not destroy the cover material itself. In each instance where cutting the tarp was required, we reinforced the area in question with several layers of blue tarp material and used a standard grommet tool to fit the lacing. The after cover is cut to fit around the backstay and the radar mount in a similar fashion.

To reduce wear and tear on the cover during the winter, we fitted a roll-up door on the port side. The door allows easy access for winter work without the need to dismantle a part of the cover itself. Last fall prior to fitting the cover for the first time, we carefully measured for the door. While actually building the cover and fitting the door at home, we decided it just didn't look right and made some changes "on the fly." Of course it happened that the original measurements were indeed correct and my "eyeball" modifications were not. Prior to installing the cover again this winter we "uncorrected" to get back to where we should have been in the first place. The benefit is that it's much easier to get the old man's bones up the ladder and onto the boat now.

The nice part about the present system is that going down to the boatyard for a few hours work is really much less bother. The side door makes going on board less complex, and the dark color of the cover itself provides something akin to a "greenhouse" effect, making the area under the cover quite comfortable once the sun has been up for a few hours. The frame ridge poles and tubing are sufficiently high so that there's plenty of room to work on deck without gymnastics during the winter.

Home Stretch: 10 - 13 Sep - Long Island Sound Is ... Long

I reluctantly slipped the lines at Mystic Seaport Museum Friday morning, 10 September, and caught the ebb down the Mystic River to Long Island Sound. Nina elected to savor the Seaport for a few more days but we wanted to make miles west and enjoyed a fair tide through western Fishers Island Sound (chart right) in bright sunshine and perfect visibility. An unwelcome chop at the mouth of the Thames River reminded me that the journey was not over yet and the wind, predicted to be 5 to 10 NW, held steady at about 15 NW and then began to creep upward.

I'd intended to make the Thimble Islands this day but by 1230, still some 14 NM short of the goal and with the wind gusting NW at 25, I'd had enough. I altered course to the NW aiming for Duck Island Roads (chart at left). In this wind the anchorage near the right-angled jetties would not be safe (if it ever is), but I hoped to find shelter under the lee of the mainland in the northwest part of the small bay just east of Kelsey Point. I dropped the anchor at 1245 (in N41-16-077/W72-29-219) as the clear and gusty NW wind continued at about 25 knots. The holding was excellent but a roll was making its way around the Kelsey Breakwater and the anchorage, although snug under the circumstances, was not comfortable.

About 2 hours later it seemed the wind had gone off a bit so I decided to try once again for the Thimbles and flat water. This time I was beaten back before even making it around the breakwater. However I was able to find smoother water about 0.9 NM from my original spot in N41-15-468/W72-30-114 (the reason I've included coordinates is to demonstrate the effects that even a slight change in position can have on comfort). Here the anchorage was an order of magnitude better and I decided to spend the rest of the day right where I was. The wind by this time had convinced many other boats to call it a day and the bay was almost getting crowded. For reasons I never did discover, several boats anchored in the "vee" created by the Duck Island Roads breakwaters despite the fact that they were facing into a strong NW breeze with the breakwaters forming a dangerous lee shore close behind. This made no sense to me and still doesn't but as they say, "different ships, different long splices."

We got underway at 0550 the next morning, Saturday the 11th of September. The dawn broke cool and clear with NW winds at 8 to 10 knots and smooth seas. The goal this time was Cockenoe Harbor in the Norwalk Islands off the Connecticut south shore (photo right). I'd anchored there in 1996 in a friend's Cal 2-46 and I recalled a fairly comfortable spot with a great view, plenty of privacy, but a mildly tricky entrance into the harbor among rocks and shoals. The ride itself was somewhat bumpy across the entrance to New Haven Harbor but it settled down off Bridgeport and since it was Saturday the local "fleet" was tuning up for the races. The contrast of sailors playing in the sun and the fact that this was the 9th anniversary of Nine/Eleven was not lost on me. We anchored in Cockenoe Harbor just before 1400 and despite the SE breeze that stayed with us during the night and the mild roll it generated, the anchorage was satisfactory. I didn't say "comfortable," but "satisfactory" will do in a pinch.

The next day, Sunday, was a big one when it came to making miles. The SE breeze of the previous evening had filled in during the night and by dawn we were staring into 20 to 25 SE in the anchorage with fairly large rollers making across the Long Island Sound. We hauled anchor at 0635 and made our way out into the Sound, soon settling on a course of 250 M for the Throggs Neck (photo left). This put the breeze on the port quarter and with 1.5 to 2 knots of fair tide, the 110% Genoa set, and the diesel just kicking over, we were moving well. I'd planned to stop at Port Washington until I noticed that the current at Hell Gate went favorable at 1330. My calculations indicated we would reach the Throggs Neck at 1200 or so, and that meant that if we kept going we would make the Gate just about when the tide went favorable. That's exactly what happened.

A mile or so past the Throggs Neck Bridge I noticed a smart looking large cutter coming up on us and doing so in a determined fashion. As she approached I recognized the yacht Brendan's Isle (photo right) owned by Mike and Kay Arms (http://www.myronarms.com/), old friends from the Sassafras River on Chesapeake Bay. I hadn't seen Mike in many years and thought it rather a nice surprise that we were both transiting the East River at the same time. Mike and Kay were returning from a summer of cruising the Maine coast. What made the coincidence noteworthy was that Mike is a well known author who has written extensively about the areas I had been exploring all summer, particularly Newfoundland. We were able to catch up a bit on comings and goings of mutual old friends until he continued on out of sight down the East River.

Soon we too were passing through Hell Gate and down the East River. As we ran between the Battery and Governor's Island, a combination of haze, light rain, and fog obscured the Statue of Liberty and made for a dicey crossing of the Upper Bay amid ferry and commercial traffic, but by 1500 we'd anchored safely behind the Statue just west of Liberty Island. As darkness fell visibility improved and we were treated to a magnificent view of the Statue and Lower Manhattan. The anchorage itself was surprisingly flat and quiet, and we enjoyed a peaceful Sunday evening rest in preparation for an early start down the New Jersey Coast.

By 0430 Monday morning we were underway down harbor toward the Verrazano Narrows Bridge (photo right). The night was clear, visibility was excellent, and we enjoyed a huge fair tide down bay. Yet paradoxically there was just too much to see. The AIS was showing well over 100 targets of all shapes and sizes, and the direct path to the Narrows was filled with anchored commercial vessels, moving ferry boats, tugs with and without barges, and difficult-to-see aids to navigation. The radar also showed so many targets that it was difficult if not impossible to process all the information. Once clear of the Liberty Island entrance channel I immediately turned left and headed for the Brooklyn shore and the relative safety of Buttermilk Channel. I continued down harbor on the Brooklyn side and there encountered "only" four commercial vessels until finally passing under the Verrazano Bridge into the Lower Bay. From there it was only a matter of following the buoys and waiting for the relative security of the sunrise and the visibility that would come with it. My advice to all is that if possible, do not pass through the main channel in New York Harbor in darkness, regardless of your experience level or equipment.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. We enjoyed a fair tide all the way down the New Jersey coast and entered Manasquan Inlet at 1100, passed through a turbulent Point Pleasant Canal with a fair tide shortly thereafter, and tied up in our old boat yard at 1400. The Newfoundland adventure had exceeded my expectations, but I was not at all unhappy to finally step ashore.