Tuesday, January 25, 2011

To Sail Or Not To Sail

What a stupid question!  Of course, subscribers of Good Ol' Boat will recognize that this has been appropriated, but it gives me a good excuse to write something.  For the first time in my life, I'm genuinely enjoying writing.  That's something of a sad statement for someone about to enter his fifth decade as sentient being on this planet, but better late than never.

At  the moment, I'm wearing a t-shirt that bears the title of this post.  My beloved wife gave it to me for Christmas and I love it.  I am at the stage of discovery in my sailing hobby where this statement accurately reflects my emotional state. I hope it continues for a very long time and I hope my wife comes to enjoy, if not the technical aspects, some of the many other aspects as much as I do.

I've lately become an early riser and since buying Sojourn, frequently sneak off to the boat on Sunday morning in time to dawn my headlight (another excellent give from my wife) and do a little tinkering before the sunrise starts.  There is something peaceful and tranquil about the calm pre-dawn morning. I would never put up with a cratchity old kerosene stove to make my coffee at home, but it somehow fits on these Sunday mornings.  I think I'm going to miss it somehow if I convert to propane.


Sojourn

Monday, January 24, 2011

One lap of Gedney Island

New Years day wasn't quite as balmy as this weekend.  In fact, it was a cold clear 24 degrees with a light breeze and an excellent day for sailing.  This was my third official trip as the skipper of Sojourn.  Kyle and I sailed around Gedney Island.

I decided when we bought the boat that it had to be a year round hobby.  I also decided not to let myself be cold, which really means dressing warmly before you get cold rather than adding layers after you get cold. I find this works well and now go to great lengths to make sure anyone I want to go sailing with again doesn't have a cold miserable trip.  New years day was a good test.  In the end, I was happy that Kyle had brought along some of those disposable hand warmers, but I never did get chilled to the bone and didn't need to go diving for the car heater at full blast as soon as Sojourn was safely back in her slip.

As evidence that it really does get to be 24 occasionally on Puget Sound, I offer the sign at the access gate to Sojourn's slip.  It warns of ice on the marina and some common sense instructions, one of which I technically violated; don't move your vessel when the marina is frozen over.  When I first read the sign, I thought it was a bureaucratic requirement for a hundred year event.  I pondered that sign as we listened to the ice make an out of world echoing crackle sound as we backed out of the slip.  This was in fact the second time since being in Everett that it was frozen over.

The main channel was free of ice.  This was my first opportunity to try the auto-tiller, so I set a heading for the middle of the channel and Kyle and I got to the business of hoisting the sails.  Once on hoisted and on course for Gedney, we realized that we pretty much had the ocean to ourselves save some seagulls, ducks and a sea otter.  Kyle wanted to relax and do some homework, so I played with the auto tiller and trimming the sails. It doesn't much like to be on a close reach.

This is an amazing quality of Kyle's.  On both of our sailing trips together, he is happy to sit back relax and do his  homework.  I won't go into his previous troubles here, but leave it that last year, hanging out with dad on a sailboat and doing homework voluntarily seemed like an unlikely dream.  He is turning into a man and I'm very proud of him.

At about 3:30 we were on the south west side of Gedney.  I didn't know how much further to round Gedney and we had less than 2 hours of daylight left.  We had just fallen into Gedney's wind shadow and had to fire up the diesel.  In a moment of indecision I turned back. After a couple of minutes, I changed my mind again and motored around Gedney.  At about 3:50, we rounded the norther point and the wind picked up.   Even at the less than lightening pace of a few knots, it never ceases to amaze me how much power there is in the wind.  Sojourns mast yielded to the wind in a broad reach and within seconds we were clipping along at nearly hull speed, heeled at a very pleasant 15 degrees on calm seas.

At 4:00, the wind had died down and had shifted more to the north.  We were only making 3-4 knots and in a race with dusk for the marina.  Everett was more than an hour away, while sunset was only a 30 minutes away.  I wasn't feeling up to sailing at night, so I fired up the diesel.  We left the sails up and motored along at nearly 7 knots, the diesel purring  happily with assistance from the sails.  We pulled in to the marina at about dusk after a very enjoyable couple of hours.   The pictures do a good job of capturing the day without betraying how cold it was.  Unfortunately, I couldn't hold the camera still enough after sunset.
Ben responded to my previous blog by asking if every day of sailing feels like it adds a month to the end of my life like it does his.  It most certainly does.









Sunday, January 23, 2011

Sojourn to Jetty Island

Today was one of those days when a sailboat name like Tranquility Base would be apropos - cool, dead calm and peaceful.  And enough sunshine to make it very comfortable.  Jack and I headed down the boat to play a little Pokemon. When we arrived, we could see a bunch of sailboat masts over Jetty Island to the West, adorned with brilliantly colored chutes.  Jack asked if we could go see and so I went where this man has never gone before - single handing our new sailboat.  This was my 4th official trip in the boat, if you can call a mile round trip a trip.  The current was strong, but the wind was calm.  The only trouble I got in was that Sojourn's transmission isn't easy to find neutral in and Jack stepped on the throttle a couple of times.  Thanks to my friend Ben's suggestion for simple rope-shock cord tiller buddy, it was a breeze.
Sojourn's tiller buddy

We motored to the Jetty Island dock and took a stroll on the west side of the island at low tide.  The sandy shoreline of the island must extend two or three hundred yards at low tide.  Jack and I had the whole Island to ourselves save a resting Bald Eagle, a black crow and a team of some kind of ducks flying in ground effect along the water.   We walked down to the water holding hands and getting our feet wet.  At seven, it is way not cool to hold hands with your dad, so I took this as a rare honor.  I'm sure readers would be fascinated to know just how many rocks, logs and weeds resemble the various species of Pokemon out there.  We stopped to photograph the more striking resemblances.

Jack on Jetty Island
One of the coolest things on Earth to a seven year old is my binoculars, which I let him bring.  Through the binoculars, we witnessed perhaps the slowest and probably equally enjoyable sailboat races in the world.  There was just enough wind the keep the chutes inflated, but that was about it.  I was envious and am looking forward to seeing what treasures await me in the two turtle bags that came with Sojourn.  When we bought her, I could barely spell spinnaker, so I peeked in the bags thought "Yep, someone must have killed a lot of parkas to make these."

We returned to the boat, Jack happy that there were so many Pokemon lurking in the wilds of the Island and me happy that the tide was rising and Sojourn's five foot deep keel wasn't stuck in mud.  Jack took off his shoes and crawled in the sleeping bag that I usually use when Annie and I sleep on the boat to warm up his feet.  Getting off the dock was a piece of cake, as the current pulled us away from the dock.  Sojourn's fin keel and spade rudder make it a breeze to turn around in tight quarters.

Back at the dock we played a few rounds of Pokemon, the game that perhaps more than anything else, taught my seven year old to be an amazing reader.  I inspected the mast and boom in anticipation of a lazy jack project, and the we buttoned up the boat.  We headed home having killed a very relaxing four hours.
Sunshine - Northwest Style