I Sail Away

It is TIME to have the bottom cleaned on the Ericson 29 again. In fact, the last time the bottom was cleaned was about 9 months ago. I am actually behind schedule.

The condition of the algae on the bottom actually determines the time more than anything. And, it is definitely time. As seen in the image, there is an entire bustling community of crustaceans living and working on the hull. Not exactly desirable for good hull speed.

I must call the diver to come and clean the bottom of the boat. More importantly, a haul-out and new bottom paint has to happen soon.

A while back, I found the Ericson 29 Owner’s Manual at the Ericson Owner Association. As an owner of an Ericson 29, and constantly in need of specs and other information, I have only downloaded and provide a link to the Ericson 29 Owner’s Manual.

The Ericson Owner’s Association website has a really nice collection of documentation and specification. Here’s the link:

http://www.ericsonyachts.org/

My heart goes out for the loss of a fellow sailor, Roger Stone.  He was the Safety Officer aboard the Texas A&M team boat, the Cynthia Woods, and lost his life while saving the lives of two sleeping crew members.  This tale resonates with me because it reminds me of races and experiences that I have had sailing off-shore from San Francisco.

The crew of the Cynthia Woods, a 38 foot racer cruiser built by North Carolina-based Cape Fear Yachts, were doing everything right.  They were sailing on an appropriate sailboat for their regatta from Texas to Veracruz.  They had safety gear aboard (including the flashlight that rescuers would spot to rescue them), and their vessel was inspected as recently as April.  They were a good, cohesive team, and stuck together during a crisis—five members floating 26 hours in the Gulf of Mexico together with only four lifejackets.

This resonates with me because I have metaphorically sailed on that sailboat.  In San Francisco, I have been part of the crew on about a dozen racing sailboats.  They have all been recently inspected,  appropriately sized and provisioned for the conditions, and maintained the proper safety gear aboard.  For the most part, they have been filled with exceptional sailors.

In the weeks to come, there is going to be a major inquiry into what happened.  The boat builders are going to be held accountable, or the Captain, or the inspector from the boat yard who inspected the keel bolts last April.  We are a blood-thirsty culture, and have grown to possess our own insatiable desire for vengeance.  It will be another media spectacle–a modern-day legal witch-hunt.

The focus should, in my opinion, remain on Roger Stone.  He was the hero sailor who was there when the accident happened.  He woke the two sleeping crew members and pushed them through the hatch to safety—thinking about himself last.  He accepted the position of safety officer aboard his ship in both title and spirit, and when a problem arose, he fulfilled his duty.

Let the lawyers and the media feast upon their scraps and turn this into a series of articles on quality standards in boat builders or court cases where we prosecute ship yard employees for negligence.

Roger Stone’s selfless act of heroism IS the story.

Fair winds and following seas.

One of the absolutely best instructional videos about Fiberglass Repair is made by Will Borden–titled simply, “Fiberglass Repair.” I bought the two DVD set directly from his website (www.fiberglass-repair.com), and it is worth every single penny.

In the with the first volume, will walks you through an overview of the process, shows you the tools that you will need (with opinons about brands, types, and acceptable substitutes), safety precautions, and leads you through several small projects. He highlights color-matching, best practices, and ways to achieve the maximum efficiency in your progress.

The second volume builds upon the first, and is the documentation of the removal and repair of a transom on a medium-sized fishing boat. It is superb!

The video is clear, and narration is logical, and in a no-frills style, he shows you exactly how to work with, repair, and create new things with fiberglass. This is a great resource!

Ugh.  I have been away from the water for a few days and really feel it.

I think, however, that I may be working on the wiring on the trailer for the Lido 14 later this afternoon.  I am replacing the lights, wiring, and wiring harness with all new.  I will also be checking the bearing buddies on the rims to ensure that there is enough grease in the wheel bearings.

There will definitely be a post with pictures for this work . . . .

There are quite a few things to do before the Ericson will ready . . . but, that is part of the reason why I purchased the boat.  Overall, it is sturdy boat, but it is going to be my textbook for learning how to work on and repair boats.

The todo list is divided into several categories.  There are things that must be done before she can be sailed, things that are routine maintenance, and things that are upgrades.  Here is the first draft:

Before Sailed Items:

• bottom wet-sanded and new bottom paint applied
• prop replaced (it was partly eroded due to worn zincs)
• motor tune-up and any repair completed
• anchors inspected, and rode replaced
• chain plates replaced
• standing rigging replaced
• running rigging replaced
• electrical system inspected, tested, and any repairs completed
• life-lines replaced

Should be completed:

• portholes and deck hardware rebedded
• cabin-top replaced
• hand-rail replaced
• winches disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled
• running rigging replaced
• docking lines and fenders replaced

Upgrades:

• replace seat cushions
• purchase additional life vests for guests
• repair/replace canvas covers
• add canvas dodger
• paint top-sides
• install mast ring at the base of the mast
• lead all lines aft
• upgrade main winches and move existing winches to the cabin-top

This is not exactly a short list, but it is worthwhile.  This is a pretty extensive textbook . . . .

Some choices are easier to make than others . . . and, this one was absolutely clear: I need to look for another boat.

The second day of racing was pretty good. I was mentally prepped and ready for the racing. I was also better rested, no alcohol in my system from the night before, and had eaten better–wanted to eliminate that from my sailing performance altogether. I worked the bow and another racer from another boat I sailed on was working mast–and, he is a good sailor.

The first race in the IRC Division was a shorter race with 3 full sausages around the course. We had a very clean foredeck the entire race: good hoists and douses. We had one issue when the entire boat had prepared for a windward douse and literally, in the last second, the owner called out “Leeward douse!”

I am not sure if he wasn’t able to drive for a windward douse, or if he just plain forgot, or what–but, of course, we had a kite flying out of the back of the boat, lost some time, and recovered unscathed. We may never know what happened, but 8 out of 9 people knew windward douse–unfortunately that ninth person was driving.

The second race started well. The foredeck worked through the 10 minutes of lunch changing headsails for the changing conditions. The winds were holding above 20 knots/hour and gusting higher. I also cleared the gear at that time and re-checked everything.

Once the second race started, we made it to the windward mark, set the pole and had a good hoist–although the we got the final word to t-up the spinnaker about 100 yards from the mark. We gybed a couple of times, and started to talk through the leeward rounding and all was going well, until . . . .

The very next gybe, the lazy spinnaker sheet had come loose and wrapped itself around the jaws of the pole. We had lassoed it around the guy, but there had been some tension on it from the back of the boat and it pulled loose.  When we tripped, it held the pole right in place. The owner of the boat took this race off, and our helmsman is a superior sailor of excellent skill. He saw it happen and eased the boat. As I went to correct this, he thought I was fixing it one way, and I was fixing it the other way.

The result was a REALLY ugly wrap–like picture-worth of the “Now That’s Ugly” contest on Sailing Anarchy (although we did not tear the spinnaker). A couple of crew members came forward to help secure the spinnaker, and we headed in to port.

By this time, the owner had come up from down below and was looking for a scape-goat. And, he picked me. It was relatively soft, but in a sweet and diminutive tone, told me that I was ready for the “light wind” racing and not this heavy stuff.

He did not try to reconstruct what happened. When the trim team said that the foredeck was not getting the information in enough time to act upon it, he did not listen. When the helmsman said that it was a result of mis-communication–he was helping me fix it one way, and I was fixing it the other–he did not listen. In fact, I don’t think he even knew what happened.

And, that is okay. He owns the boat and can run it however he likes, but I do not want to sail with him. Snap decisions cause mistakes. Lack of communication cause mistakes. And, mistakes happen on every boat. Crucifying me for those mistakes is foolish and counter-productive. I am certainly willing to take my share of the blame–but, shouldering all of it is a bit much.  It simply creates a foredeck that is hostile towards the cockpit and a cockpit that is hostile towards the foredeck.  Not exactly a great definition of teamwork . . . .

The larger issue, however, is that the boat owner did not see or understand what happened. He has made his decision blindly, without the information. Sailing like that is how people get hurt–and, it might be me. So, this weekend, and all of the incidents led me to my decision: I am looking for a new boat to race.

Got bowman?

There are many ways to do everything on a boat, and some better serve the situation than others.  When dousing the spinnaker, the windward douse is another tool in your bag of tricks.

The name holds the clues to what differentiates this douse from a leeward douse–what side of the boat your are using to bring down the spinnaker.

Here are the steps:

1. When ready, have a crew member come forward (or the crew member working the mast can do this) and hold the working guy–which is on the windward side.
2. Trip the spinnaker pole and drop the pole to the foredeck.
3. At this point, the driver is starting to turn to windward.  Grab both clews and pull/feed it right into the open hatch.  The wind will push it right down the open hatch.

It is a pretty slick way to get the spinnaker down quickly.  One guy on board suggested that you grab both ends and simply sit down.  I presume that this saves your arms and the force starts the descent process of the sail and assists in starting the collapse of that big sail.

Coming around the windward mark of the course, the foredeck crew hoist the spinnaker–it provides the primary power for the boat while sailing downwind.  At the leeward mark, the foredeck crew raise the jib sail, then lower and retrieve the spinnaker.  A leeward douse is one of the ways to accomplish this.

On a leeward douse, the lazy spinnaker guy is taken and given to a crew member down the open hatch (if there is a crew member available).  The foredeck crew then each grab the foot of the spinnaker sail and pull the bulk of the sail down as fast as possible into the forward hatch.  This release of the spinnaker halyard is guided by the crew member working in the pit (if it is simply dropped, the sail will most likely go into the water).

Lastly, the hatch cover is closed, the pole is dropped to the deck and stowed, and the jib sheets are cleared to ensure that we can tack when necessary.  When achieved, the foredeck tells the back of the boat that the is tackable.

Today was the first day of the Stone Cup, sponsored by the St. Francis Yacht Club in San Francisco. It was also the event of the IRC racing season.

Like no other place on the planet, the San Francisco weather opened up and unleashed some incredible winds. By the time the first race had started, the winds were hitting 18 knots and hour. During the second race, they blew 26 knots of steady wind with occasional puffs that were a little more.

We had a great time, but our game was a little off on the second race, although the boat owner thought we had placed third or fourth overall at the end of the day.

On the first race, I worked on the bow. On the second race, I worked at the mast. I know that personally, I could have raced better.

Tomorrow, we are all going to race better.