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.

To Baddeck on the Bras d'Or: 16 Aug - Still Waters Indeed Run Deep

All good things must end and unfortunately so must our Newfoundland visit. We departed Ship Cove on Ramea at 0730 local on Sunday 15 August, bound for Baddeck on Cape Breton's Bras d'Or Lakes. Conditions were tame, with calm winds and seas, bright sunshine, and unlimited visibility. The distance of 164 NM meant we would spend a single night at sea and arrive Baddeck late Monday afternoon. That's exactly what occurred.

Although I hoisted the mainsail for technical reasons, we never encountered any wind while crossing Cabot Straight. Only rarely have I seen such calm waters (photo left). The diesel ran well for the entire 32 hours of the passage. The way we usually handle situations like this is to shut the diesel down every 12 hours to allow checks of fluid levels, connections, possible leaks, make fuel transfers, etc. This we did twice, and in each case all went well. That's fortunate, because without a breath of wind, an engine malfunction would have meant sitting out at sea for a very long time.

In calm conditions the routine at sea is a bit unusual. Regular "housekeeping" of a type not possible in rougher waters can be attempted. One does not have to hold on for 24 hours a day, and projects requiring two hands and some dexterity are possible. One of these is planning future aspects of the cruise, sorting charts, getting computer records up to date, and the like (photo right).


A sunset at sea is always something to behold, and I will admit that I could have done it more justice with a few camera adjustments. For those who have not enjoyed such an event, feast your eyes (photo left). Once the sun has disappeared, the remaining light plays tricks with the horizon and offers up visual treats simply not available on land (photo right).

Finally when it is dark and the skies are clear, it is never really dark because the starlight is sufficient to allow surprising colors and images (photo above).

We entered the Great Bras d'Or channel at about 1030 local time (Atlantic Daylight Time) and were officially on the island of Cape Breton, itself a part of Nova Scotia. Since we were still in Canadian waters and had never left them, there was no requirement to contact the authorities and we simply proceeded toward Baddeck, about 25 miles further on. We reached Baddeck at 1530 and after a bit of dock socializing decided it was time for some real rest. After all, the great Bras d'Or Lakes adventure was about to begin.

m/v Gallipoli: 12 Aug - Island Lifeline

On Thursday morning I had the good fortune to meet Captain Leslie Cutler (photo left), skipper of the ferry Gallipoli, as he was walking to work from his home on a hill overlooking Ship Cove in the Ramea Islands. He was headed to the ferry wharf to begin another day in command of his vessel (photo right) and to continue the tradition of offering a vital service to communities like Ramea. The ferry system provides a lifeline for isolated out-ports along the Newfoundland South Coast, and it would be difficult to overestimate its importance. Obviously I was quite excited when Captain Les invited me on board to tour the bridge and learn more about Gallipoli (http://www.tw.gov.nl.ca/ferryservices/schedules/l_ramea.html).

The Gallipoli bridge (photo left) features every piece of modern electronic navigational equipment that one would expect, and most of the equipment is backed up by one or more spare instruments. Gallipoli also employs modern "pod" type propulsion units that rotate in all directions. They are controlled by a "joy stick," and this means the vessel can be maneuvered in close quarters in some of the smaller harbors. The ship's navigation station (photo right) contains electronic charting systems and a complete range of paper charts used to record up-to-the-minute positional and navigational data on the vessel and on nearby vessels.

Gallipoli carries up to 100 passengers and is furnished with life rafts capable of supporting the entire passenger manifest plus the officers and men of the vessel. The cargo bay can hold several large vehicles or many smaller vehicles, and all vehicles are backed onto the ferry cargo bay to allow fast unloading at the destination.

It is fair to say that without the services of these ferries, which operate in all seasons and all weathers, life in out-port communities would not be possible.

At Harbor Breton: 07 Aug – Cold Ice, Hot Soup, Warm Hospitality

Early Saturday I awoke to the sounds of fishing activity on the docks. All the hustle centered on “icing down” the fishing fleet to prepare for weeks of offshore work. George was the first person I met and minutes later we were off in his car to tour the village and its facilities. George (stowing ice in Trusty's hold, above right) and shipmates Silas and Roderick are crew on the Cape Island boat Trusty, and were preparing her while the skipper was away. Yet George still took time to give me a detailed look at his village, including many homes and large buildings his dad had constructed. It seemed that without George’s dad there would be few new buildings in Harbor Breton. It also seemed that Harbor Breton is growing and prosperous, with new construction, new medical and professional facilities, and a positive feeling.

Back on the dock “icing down” was proceeding on schedule, each boat being loaded with over 20,000 pounds of ice. Ice is trucked to the dock in large bins and poured into the ship’s hold with a chute (photo left). Crew members work to spread the ice into different compartments for different species. It’s physical work and no place for curious visitors so I stayed out of the way, enjoying the view from the bridge on Trusty (below).

While this was going on, Silas provided me with a tin of canned moose from the ship’s provisions. This is moose that he himself hunted and canned, and I am looking forward to a special occasion to enjoy it (are you reading this, Sonia?). Later George showed up at Kerry Deare with a tin of home-canned salmon and a fresh 5 pound trout (more about this special fish in the later entry on Francois). We were fully provisioned by now and when I visited the grocery there wasn’t much needed.

It was approaching lunch time so following Samantha’s earlier suggestion I headed to Sunny Cottage for Pea Soup (photo left). If you are like me you are wondering "why the fuss about pea soup?" For most of us this is a bland and often dreary item on the menu, but that’s not the case in Newfoundland. Pea Soup here is a Saturday specialty that combines special white peas, chunks of beef, a thick hearty broth, and large dumplings, all served in a very large soup bowl with bread and “fixings.” In a phrase, hard to beat (and few can handle seconds).

After lunch I moved the boat over to Elliot’s Wharf (photo left), a marina with additional facilities including a small museum, a playhouse, and an Internet Café. Thanks to the young women working there I did well. Judy and Britany attended to Kerry Deare’s needs and even read some of the musings on these pages (right photo) while I toured the museum to learn about local history and culture (below).

By late afternoon I’d already had a very full day, so an early dinner and early to bed was the choice, preparing for another town and another adventure tomorrow.

Louisbourg IV: Thur 29 Jul – Staying Put

On Tuesday afternoon I stuck my nose out into the ocean hoping I'd find conditions I could live with en route to Saint-Pierre et Miquelon, a 175 NM trek requiring 2 nights at sea for Kerry Deare. After 2 hours of 26 to 28 knot winds with gusts into the thirties, it was clear this wasn't our day so we returned to harbor. Thus the entire process of securing gear, preparing for sea, heading out, bouncing a bit, returning to the wharf, resetting lines and fenders, and getting exhausted resulted only in turning the boat around 180 degrees at the wharf (photo left). Still life on board is one long learning process, so lets' talk about wharfing.

Cruising in Nova Scotia and Newfoundland means visiting harbors where fishing is the primary activity. Facilities for fishing vessels are designed for rough usage and extreme conditions so yachts must use care to avoid damage. The most important gear needed is fendering that can do the job. At the very least one needs the largest fenders that can be carried and stowed, and preferably more than two. In the photo at right we've set two 10x30 fenders behind an 8 foot fender board to lay alongside the rough wharf. Note that the wharf here in Lousibourg is not "rough" as these things go. We carry another 2 large fenders and often another board to meet worse conditions. The the photo also shows rubber protectors on the ends of the board to further protect the topsides.

In Louisbourg the tidal range is about 6 feet so some compensation is necessary. This means keeping an eye on things through at least one tidal cycle, and adjusting lines and fenders to meet the extremes of the tidal rise and fall. The two primary rules we like to employ in a case like this are (1) use lines as long as practical to minimize tidal effects (photo above left), and (2) make all lines adjustable from the boat (top and bottom photos at right).

Finally never assume that your gear will be "just fine for now" when it comes to chafe. The insidious effects of chafe can be disastrous, and the forces against you are at work every minute of every day. There is no substitute for taking measures ahead of time (photo at left).

Off Government Point NS: Thur 15 Jul - Gone Fishin'

Ed hails from Connecticut and keeps his 28 foot fishing boat here in Shelburne. Early this afternoon he asked if I'd join him and John, who's originally from Yarmouth, on a fishing trip out to Government Point just at the mouth of Shelburne Harbor. The answer should be obvious. Here are a few shots of that trip.

Onset MA: Mon 21 Jun - Sonia’s Birthday and A Diesel Lesson

Started the day off with an early telephone birthday wish to my best friend and wife, Sonia. I am not overjoyed at being away from home on her birthday, but sailing is a tough mistress. Besides, someone has to hold down a real job to support my lavish pleasures (yes, that just may be overdoing it). In fact Sonia will be joining me shortly here for a Boston holiday if all goes as planned.

Meanwhile the “diesel doctor” did make his rounds at Brewers and the diagnosis was close to what we suspected all along. It seems likely that I’ve been over-filling the diesel coolant overflow tank so that even the slightest expansion or pressure increase caused the coolant to flow through the tank pressure release fitting. Solution: drain a little coolant and maintain a lower level. That seems to have worked at least this afternoon because I left Brewers for Onset MA (right photo), a short 8 mile hop, and there was no coolant in the drip pan under the engine when I set the anchor. The price of this lesson: a mere 2 ½ hours of expensive yard labor at something like $95.00 per hour. Ouch, of course, but probably worth the peace of mind.

Brian, the mechanic, also helped with a few other Volvo details. Since the engine was new in 1993, I’d been trying to determine how to change the cooling system zinc. My main mechanic in Annapolis, Richard Vosbury, insisted there actually was no zinc in the system on this particular Volvo model. However all my manuals point out that is not the case and show a large bolt where the zinc is supposedly located. When Brian removed that bolt at my request, there was indeed no zinc. He also inadvertently located a weak electrical lug connection to the starter and replaced it before it shut us down at sea. I would say the Brewer service, while expensive, was of much value.

After some provisioning we headed over to Onset to wait on the tides at the Cape Cod Canal next morning.