December 2003, Volume 9 Number 6
This newsletter is late, and in the future we will switch to
a quarterly turnus. One reason is that it will be easier to fill the pages to
make work and costs worthwhile. Special issues for special events, like the
Mahone Bay Wooden Boat Festival, are planned.
A
Visit to the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival
Wind, Waves, Mussels, and a Gull
Mahone Bay Wooden Boat Festival Update
by Anthony O'Malley
The summer before last my wife Pat and I went to the Wooden Boat Show in Rockland,
Maine. The Rockland WB Show was a real delight and had attracted some very interesting
and curious builders and "live exhibits" alongside the usual wooden
boat fair kiosks and workshops.
One of the more interesting boats to catch my eye--an eye now firmly fixed on
the practical and handy for marine poking around and gunkholing--was an odd,
squat little double-ended thing sitting on a stand in front of builder/designer
Peter Hunt's mar-quee to which he had given the design name "Li'l Dubber".
As I walked around this "kayak" as Peter called it (although it was
really a double-paddle canoe to my eye), its almost triangular body plan and
sweeping chine settling broadly and ponderously into the water-line gave it
the appearance of a bathtub that had been reworked into a toy boat. When Pat
caught up with me, her off-the-cuff opinion was that it was an ugly duckling
best left to its own destiny.
I liked it. It had a certain indescribable "being-there" character,
a sort of gently assertive boldness of disposition in bulk. It had a sense of
stability produced by the settling bathtub look; and, finally, it had what is
for me the utterly irresistible charm of reverse curve to its ends. I had a
chat with Peter who offered the display model for a paddle around the inner
harbour, but I had to decline as I was babysitting my elder brother who was
not far off staring maniacally at a giant fried seafood platter he had just
purchased and I was concerned he might choke to death in the passion of consuming
it. But I did see the Dubber shortly afterwards poking around the boats and
docks as other interested people took it out for trial runs. It looked like
a stable boat and appeared to be very maneuverable with the designed rudder.
My brother having passed the crisis stage of downing the seafood platter, I
returned to Peter's place and bought the plans/building manual for the Dubber
for $15. I figured I could knock the Dubber off during the winter as I was waiting
for a more suitable place to build my already lofted and templated current project,
a 14' Chamberlain rowing-sailing beach skiff (as drawn up by John Gardener).
The plans called for an epoxy saturated, ‘glassed boat. My first and last
epoxy project--a kayak I began a couple of years ago and which I eventually
had to pass on 2/3 finished to fellow SWBANS member Ken Lamb--had produced so
many rashes and welts, even with gloves and mask, that I had resigned myself
to never touching the unpleasant two-part stuff again. But the Dubber seemed
a quick, attractive little project, and I ruminated that perhaps I could get
in and out of the project faster than my allergenic mechanisms inside could
register anything happening. I was also determined to build it cheaply using
subflooring plywood (meranti) instead of using the 5 ply mahogany that went
into the previous, unfinished kayak, since the designer-specified and cheap
luan interior door plywood was apparently no longer available.
The first thing I found out as I scarfed, then drew, faired, and cut out the
Dubber's bottom piece was that meranti is a ghastly wood to use for building.
It has sharp splinters that raise themselves in scalpel-like flakes anywhere
along an open edge. Pre-taping cutting lines helps; but even the tape, if it
has a good adhesive, will lift flakes from a cut edge. Working this plywood
up into a boat is akin to knitting with razor wire. Meranti also has prickly
areas over its surface that grab at cloth or any other material drawn over it
to wipe sanding dust from the work area. Compared to the mahogany, it was cheap
(1/4 the price); but the mahogany was almost a solid wood compared to the meranti.
Since even the larger version of the Dubber I had chosen to build uses only
3 sheets of plywood, were I to do it over again I would probably use the mahogany.
The bottom
piece is cut out, and then the two ends are drawn together, under considerable
pressure, carefully and slowly to make up the reverse stem and stern (this piece
is the white bottom in the photos). This was an exciting moment since the tension
is considerable, and nerves tingle as the expectant loud report of the bottom
bursting into two pieces hovers about the process. How-ever, easy does it, and
the stem and stern seams came together smoothly and were wired sequentially
in place. The side pieces were cut out and wired to the bottom; then the two
plywood frames were got out of leftover plywood and mounted in place. All joints
then received a fillet of thickened epoxy. The wires were removed, the hull
sanded, the wire holes filled (optional), the cloth stretched over the bottom,
and three coats of epoxy applied to the bottom. Making the cloth round the sharp
corners of the chine, stem and stern was tiresome and required considerable
cleanup later, although a person more experienced in this boatbuilding medium
would have had less of a problem with this part, which required some imaginative
darting. The bottom, sides, and all edges were sanded, faired and rounded, and
then the whole boat, inboard and out, was given two coats of epoxy. The rudder
blade was got out of 1/8" aluminum, the rudder head out of some 1/2"
plywood lying around, the coaming pieces from a no longer used 14' lofting batten,
the rudder pedals from left over meranti plywood, and the fore and aft deck/side
braces from a support that used to hold up a bookshelf in my study (I couldn't
resist; it was just the right size and grain pattern). The coaming needed steaming--it's
quite the bend--and not having a steam box I wrapped the 8' lengths of 7/16"x1/4"
pieces in some wads of left over gauze cloth, and then poured boiling water
over the gauze. The cloth held the heat in and after 10 minutes the coaming
bent willingly into place. I finished by varnishing the sides, painting the
bottom, the inboard surfaces, and the rudder head white; I painted the frames,
seat back, rudder pedals, and the double paddle I had made
a sort of tile red that had resulted from throwing together the different remains
of four or five paint jobs into an orphaned can of alkyd enamel of unknown hue
or origin.
Late this
last spring everything was rigged up and ready. I launched the "Wee Tub"
(as she was christened, affectionately by me, more ironically by Pat) and took
her for a paddle (see Photo#1). This was a revelation. The Wee Tub is very stable,
paddles like the dickens, but best of all acts as a solid platform for the dreamy
Nonpareil Advanced Position (NAP) paddling (see Photo#2), for slovenly gunkholing,
for generally poking about--the rudder helps her turn on a dime--and, in short,
has proved to be a delightful little marine vehicle for the pointlessly-minded
shoreside or wharfside vagrant. The only changes I will make to this otherwise
fine design are: the seat back support should be fixed in place for a particular
paddler rather than being a simple board and piece-of-rope support affair, and
the rudder blade kickup line cleat will be moved from the side deck, where it
pulls the rudder to the cleat side of the boat when hauled in, to a jamb cleat
at the top of the rudder head.
Pat asked for a trial paddle in the Wee Tub, just to say she did. Off she went paddling about, coming back after an unexpect-edly long time away around the bend in the lake, beaming and looking for all as though she had been using the Wee Tub for years, and asking when orders were being taken for "her" Dubber this coming winter. So, it's another $15 off to Peter Hunt and another winter-time encounter with more of the nasty goo that makes so many fun boats. The total cost of the Wee Tub, including manual from Peter, was $210. Plans from Peter Hunt at Little Dubber Kayaks, The Shed for Sail Studio, PO Box 135, Norton, MA, USA 02766 or at http://www.kayakdesigns.com/
by Gerry Gladwin
As my own boatshed has been somewhat quiet during the past while, I have volunteered to co-ordinate the submissions from the boatshops of other members for the SWBANS Newsletter. - G
Rick Jollimore relates the beginning of his current project:
"A 45 ton crane lifted the boat 45 to 60 feet above trees and power lines
with a good size crowd watching in awe." Looking at the height of my house
(24' to the pitch), I tried to visualize a 32'loa boat hanging at the end of
a cable, at twice that height. No wonder that onlookers were awe-struck!
He goes on to say, "The
boat itself is a Motor Sailer 32' LOA with a 10'6" beam. From the base
of the keel to the cabin top she stands 10'2'. What she weighs in at ... your
guess is as good as mine. The hull is oak with oak ribs and keel. All exposed
wood for the cabin is solid oak, but I am unsure what type of plywood has been
used for the cabin top. The planks were fastened to the ribs by a clinching
method with oak being used for the floor timbers."
Whew! A very serious hole-in-the-water!
I particularly like the name Rick chose for the boat - Shoe String. He explains,
"Shoe String ... (nice ring to it) ... also means what I have for a budget
for this project. I bought the Bargain Hunter, which had just expired, to see
what was out there. My eyes fell to an ad that said "Free Boat". I
called before finishing the ad."
There is nothing like unbridled
compulsion, eh!
Rick plans on having a
full shed built by end of October so, " ...I could host a meeting or two."
I am sure that SWBANS members will be interested in visiting the yard at 170
Wright Ave. in Dartmouth. "Anytime members want to drop by and see the
progress (and help) they are free to come by. I will be working on weekends
and, if the gate to our yard is open, then I am in there. Could it be that Rick
is looking for wooden-brained consultants, free labour, moral support ... or
all of the above?
Howard Ray:
Down on the South Shore, Howard and Donna Ray have commenced on their latest
project. (another year ... another boat). Howard relates the following: "I
see that you're following through in the Ryerson tradition - he pawns off the
work to you and you pawn it off to me! Now, who can I get involved - oh Donna,
what kind of boat are we building?
The boat is a design called Eun Mara (meaning Sea Bird in Gallic). She is a canoe yawl, 19'8" x 6'6", with a 2300 pound displacement (400 pounds of which is a lead keel). She has two bilgeboards, rather than a centerboard and draws 17" with the boards up and 3'3" when down. The boat was designed by Scotsman Iain Oughtred, who also designed the Acorn, Caledonia Yawl and many others. She is built of glued plywood lapstrake around a white oak stem, stern and keelson backbone and is very traditional looking.
As for why
I'm building it - how do I know? I sold Tahiti to fellow SWBAN'er Larry Shaw
and NEEDED a replacement. I also NEEDED an excuse to buy more tools, so I had
to come up with something. This seemed an obvious (to me, anyways) choice.
After spending
about 150 hours on it (much of it pacing around trying to figure out how to
proceed), I have the building frame and molds plumb and level, the backbone
complete, the garboards cut. If all goes well, planking will begin today and
SHOULD proceed relatively quickly, although handling a 20' long 3/8" plywood
strake is no easy task."
Howard says
that all are welcome to "pop" by for a visit and see her firsthand.
Likely he would also appreciate other hands on those 20 foot strakes from time
to time.
G
Update: Howard
and Donna have now finished the planking on the hull. The next issue of the
newsletter should see big changes if they keep at this pace.
The "Boat Shed" is an important part of our Newsletter and organization. It keeps us informed of other members activities which in turn sparks interest and help in projects. Don't build in the dark, please keep us informed. Contact Gerry at 902 542-3244, email: whynot@volkskayak.com or Ryerson at 902 461-2416, email: ryersonclark@mac.com
by Laura Brown
On Wednesday, July 2, I left Boston late in the afternoon for another drive to Cape Cod. This time, I was joining my friends Patrick and Howard, who both crewed on the Larinda during Tall Ships 2000, and Captain Kenny Gabriel. Kenny bought a used 32-foot Ericcson, Windseeka, last spring. He was eager to test his sailboat on a journey from Hyannis to Boston via the Atlantic side of the Cape. This would be his longest sail to date on Windseeka, and also his first time sailing her in the Atlantic Ocean. Once in Boston, we had a slip in Charlestown for the night so we could watch the fireworks and then head back to the Cape in the morning.
Although I was a little nervous about sailing out into the ocean, I knew we
were in good hands. Howard is a former naval officer, Patrick has sufficient
open water experience, and Kenny is a regular in the Hyannis to Nantucket Fugawi
Race. In fact, Windseeka had just placed third in the race several weeks before
our Fourth of July trip.
Nonetheless, the Atlantic side of the Cape can be dangerous, especially navigating
Monomoy Point at the "elbow" of the Cape. This point has caused numerous
wrecks, near wrecks, and other serious mishaps on many occasions. The tidal
currents are particularly strong here, especially at Pollock Rip just south
of the point. Sand shoals form, disappear, and re-form mysteriously and frequently.
In fact, the hazardous shoals and currents near Monomoy caused the Pilgrims
to enter Cape Cod Bay and settle at Plymouth, MA, instead of continuing south
to Virginia. Navigating this area today requires precise timing with the tide
and good, clear weather.
At this particular
time, the weather reports were calling for a chance of rain on Thursday, our
day to cover half the distance to Boston. However, any bad weather depended
on how quickly a tropical storm moved up the coastline. There was a chance that
rain and any heavy winds would blow off the coast long before the Cape.
When I arrived in Hyannis on Wednesday night, the crew had a brief meeting at
the Captain's house. We discussed the weather reports and confirmed our desire
to sail east and north up the Atlantic side of the Cape rather than motoring
west and north through Woods Hole and the Cape Cod Canal. We then split up,
some of us off to the grocery store for supplies, and others off to make a few
final repairs to the boat.
We planned
to spend Thursday night in Provincetown, at the northern point of the Cape,
and eat on shore, so we felt it wasn't necessary to overload the boat with food.
However, Howard and I planned an emergency dinner of spaghetti, salad, and garlic
bread in case we decided to eat aboard ship instead of our planned outing in
Provincetown. I also planned to make sour apple martinis and crab, wasabi, and
cucumber hors d'oeuvres for everyone once we arrived in Boston to watch the
fireworks on Friday night.
Within an
hour or so, we had all we needed from the grocery store. We then drove to the
marina and hopped into the Windseeka dingy to ferry our supplies to the boat.
Once we were all aboard, Patrick fixed us all drinks, and we toasted to the
exciting trip that lay before us.
At 5AM, the
captain woke us and started a pot of coffee. Howard had already been awake for
2 hours, anxiously waiting for the rest of us to get going. Apparently his wristwatch
had been set wrong, and he awoke at 3AM, which his watch claimed was 5AM. He
had spent the interim hours fretting about what to do with this lazy group,
whether to let us continue to sleep, and what this meant about our chances to
make the favorable tide at Monomoy.
Once we had
everyone's time synched up, we had breakfast, prepared the sails, and set off
east for Monomoy. The weather was fantastic: lots of sun, just a few clouds
to keep things cool every so often, and a strong, steady wind. We set the jib
and main, then kicked back in the cockpit to watch the southern coastline of
the Cape. A few early morning sailors were out in Hyannis Harbor with us, and
we enjoyed watching a variety of sailboats, yachts, and an occasional schooner
cutting through the waves.
Howard took
the first short shift at the helm, then Patrick, then me. We were enjoying the
sail and Captain Kenny's fancy speed and depth gauges, and we decided to start
a little contest to see who could crank up the boat the fastest. Although this
particular area of the Cape is relatively shallow, just 30 to 40 feet in some
areas, we knew we had sufficient depth for several hours to Monomoy before we
had to pay closer attention to clearance.
Howard and
Patrick both took a turn at our speed trials. Howard got the boat to 7.3, then
7.4, then 7.5 knots. The boat was heeling over quite a bit, sometimes taking
on water over the deck. Patrick then urged Windseeka on to 7.8, 7.9, and 8.1
knots. Captain Kenny was napping in the port berth behind the table, oblivious
to our mischief.
Not to be outdone, Howard reclaimed the helm for his shot at the record. Patrick
descended to the galley to provide us with some refreshments. I stretched out
on the blue cushions on the cockpit bench and scanned the water, hoping to see
dolphins. I felt the boat leap forward as Howard caught some wind and Windseeka
heeled deeper to port and accelerated.
At that point,
I looked into the galley and saw somebody's sandals floating in water on the
floor of the cabin. I became alarmed and was about to say something to Patrick
in the galley when I saw him moving to the Captain's desk and reaching for the
switch on the wall to turn on the bilge pump. Immediately, the pump went into
action. Captain Kenny awoke. "What's going on?" he asked.
With the bilge
pump going, the problem was solved, I thought. I turned my attention again to
our racing contest. I urged Howard to see if he could surpass Patrick's record.
Howard and I were having a lively discussion about our boat speed when I again
checked into the galley several minutes later. This time, I saw even more stuff
floating—cushions, sandals, food—and even more water. It now covered
several inches of the floor. Obviously, the bilge pump wasn't enough!
Captain Kenny
and Patrick were frantically looking for the hand pump. I saw rugs flying through
the air. Cushions were shoved off benches. Cubby doors were flung about. Towels,
loaves of bread, swimsuits, knapsacks—all flung into the berth at the bow
of the boat. Finally, the hand pump was located and put into action.
I informed Howard of the predicament. He was on the verge of breaking Patrick's
record and was concentrating on boat speed and wind shifts. When he finally
glanced at the scene in the cabin, he sat back, looked at me, and smiled.
"Well,
Laura, it's a great day for a sail," he said calmly. "Only got one
problem: Our boat's sinking!" He chuckled and then went back to reading
the wind and checking the compass. I ran down the stairs into the galley, only
to be splashed by water that was forced up through the hand pump and into the
sink. "What's the problem?" I asked. "Pump faster!" Captain
Kenny yelled. He directed the open end of the pump's long plastic tube into
the sink. Water dumped in and then overfilled the basin. "Pump faster!
Pump faster!" Patrick took off his shirt and doubled his effort. The bilge
pump was running, Patrick was working the hand pump hard, and the water was
filling the little galley sink so quickly it barely had time to drain before
the next surge hit.
"Howard,
bring the boat up into the wind—NOW," Captain Kenny yelled. I felt
the boat slow, the sails began to flap, and soon Windseeka leveled off. The
pumping continued furiously.
After 10 or
15 minutes, we began to see less water on the floor. Patrick had opened 3 doors
in the floor so we could monitor how quickly the bilge was filling. The water
seemed to be clearing out. Patrick paused with the hand pump for a few minutes.
Silence. We watched the water level in the bilge. No more water seemed to be
coming into the boat. Now what?
"I think
I know where the water's coming from," the captain said. He dove into one
of the storage bins and pulled out a large box full of tools. "I think
it might be the rudder." He disappeared into the berth at the stern of
the boat, behind the captain's desk. The rest of us went up on deck and sat
in the cockpit, ready to lend support through one of the open windows into the
berth.
After 5 or
10 minutes had passed, the captain emerged from the berth.
"Here's the problem!" he said. He held up some small metal items so
we could all see. "All three bolts were loose."
The bolts were meant to hold the rudder shaft. Loosened, perhaps by the strain
of the high speed and heel, the bolts had allowed the water to pour through—some
50 gallons or so by the captain's estimate. He was able to tighten two of the
bolts. Unfortunately, he said, the final bolt was stripped. What to do?
We definitely
couldn't continue on our planned route to the Atlantic. Too dangerous, the captain
concluded, without all the bolts in perfect condition and tight. We could, however,
turn around and head west to Buzzards Bay and go up through Woods Hole to the
Cape Cod Canal. He knew of a small port just north of the Hole where he could
get help to fix the stripped bolt. We would then continue our journey, up the
Cape Cod Canal to Boston. We still had plenty of time to make it to Boston for
the fireworks the following evening.
With that,
Howard turned the boat around. By 11AM, we were back to where we started. A
couple of hours later, we were at Woods Hole. The captain turned the motor on
to get through the violent tidal currents there, and we motored on up to a small
harbor just south of the canal to anchor and make repairs. When we dropped the
anchor, we felt a few drops of rain, and soon a shower ensued.
Now all four
of us were sitting around the table in the cabin, wondering again what to do.
I had an idea: Sour apple martinis! That sounded good to everyone, and so I
moved to the galley and started slicing green apples and measuring out vodka
and sour apple schnapps.
We enjoyed
several rounds of martinis while the rain continued. We watched a cormorant
about 50 feet off the stern who had caught an eel and was having trouble swallowing
the long, slippery fish. The bird flipped its head back several times to get
the eel positioned correctly to slide down its throat.
The weather worsened. The rain was coming down harder now, early evening. Other
boats were joining us in our makeshift port. NOAA, our national weather service,
was broadcasting reports over the radio that predicted continued rain into the
morning.
Captain Kenny
worked on a repair of the stripped bolt. The crew was getting hungry. Remembering
our emergency supplies, Patrick and I started to put together dinner for everyone.
Howard went on deck to clean up the cockpit and get the boat ready for bed.
Within an
hour, we were all sitting around the table again. This time, we had several
candles glowing and a table full of food. We enjoyed our spaghetti with hot
tomato sauce, some garlic bread, and a nice green salad. After a final round
of martinis, we all headed off to our berths for the night.
The next morning,
the captain felt we could make it to Boston without sinking and then get the
bolt replacement when we arrived in the city in the afternoon. We had a beautiful
cruise through the canal. It was foggy and busy with lots of boat traffic so
we were vigilant about watching for potential collisions. We passed a sailboat
that had run aground on a shoal. The captain had the boat's sails up, trying
to enlist the wind's help to move off the sand, but the boat wouldn't budge.
Just several hundred feet north of the beached boat sat a supertanker, with
plenty of water clearance, unloading its supplies.
We made good
progress up the coast of Massachusetts and into Boston Harbor. We grew excited
as we saw the city skyline appear. Soon we were surrounded by the bustle of
the harbor traffic: high-speed ferries zipping from Providence to Boston and
back, tankers from Japan and Russia, pleasure cruisers, Rhodes 19s from my boat
club, sailboats in every shape and size, tugboats, Coast Guard motorboats, and
a tall ship turned into a party boat. Overhead, as we passed the southern end
of Logan Airport, we watched the underbellies of national and international
carriers as they dropped their landing gear and descended onto the runway.
About 5PM,
we motored into our slip at the Constitution Marina in Charlestown. After we
secured our boat, we headed into the office to complete some paperwork and replenish
our supply of ice. Time now for the crab hors d'oeuvres! We toasted again to
our arrival in Boston, and eagerly awaited the fireworks display.
Because of the heat and large crowds at the Esplanade, where most people go
downtown to watch the fireworks, we decided to watch the display from the deck
at my house. We hiked 15 minutes from the marina, up Bunker Hill, and sat on
my deck, which provides a panoramic view of the city. We placed a radio on the
deck so that we could hear the Boston Pops live at the Esplanade, then settled
in for the light show. This year's fireworks were spectacular, and ended with
a colorful and loud finale while the Pops played the Star Spangled Banner.
The next morning,
I helped captain and crew gather last-minute supplies. I drove to the train
station to pick up a replacement crew member, and then I said good-bye to everyone
and wished them luck on their trip back to the Cape. The weather reports were
indicating rain again, and I wasn't looking forward to 2 more days stuck in
the cabin. So I decided to stay in Boston and enjoy the rest of my holiday weekend
in town.
That evening,
I received a call from the crew of Windseeka that they had made it to Scituate,
about half way to the Cape, and I was welcome to join them for dinner. I declined.
By the next day, Windseeka was back near Hyannis, captain and crew safe and
well, and another adventure completed.
Sour Apple
Martini
This recipe comes from B. Smith's restaurant in Sag Harbor, NY.
2 ounces (1/4 cup) vodka, chilled
1 ounces (3 tablespoons) sour apple schnapps, chilled
_ teaspoon fresh lime juice
Garnish: green apple slices
Stir together first 3 ingredients, and pour into a martini glass.
Garnish, if desired.
Hi Guys
Juan curtailed
the season for Itchy and Scratchy. I hauled her out today. It usually
takes the best part of a long day to lay her up. Each fall I trailer her home,
power wash in and out, and clean and stow all the various bits of rigging. This
year I was finished by 10 am- most of the gear had already been put away. I
had recovered the bits and pieces during the week that followed the storm. They
were mostly piled up by the rotary, mixed into the foul black muck at the head
of the Arm. I'd been away that weekend, getting back about 19:00 Sunday. I had
hoped to haul her, but the ramp was queued up. I rowed out, lashed down every
thing, set a 12 lb Bruce on a long scope, and blew her a kiss.
I won't describe
the storm, except that it treated the boats like animal crackers in a toilet
bowl. You knew some of them would still be
there after flushing. At around 11:30 the wind got under her, lifting her like
a kite on the moor. She is light for her size. Then she
flipped. Later the surge carried her, moor and anchor stumbling over her mast,
then a 10 foot stump of her mast for about 300 yds. No damage other than the
mainmast. I found all the gear, even the coppertone bottle, which was also fine.
Cheers
Fraser Howell
This from
Annie "Scuzmom" Kolls of the Scuzbums in Southern California and the
fires this past fall.
Although we were close to evavcuating on Sunday afternoon, that particular branch
of the fire was stopped. We're fine, except for some coughing and the chore
of cleaning ash off everything. We were extremely fortunate, when you think
of the 2,000 homes destroyed (mostly in the outer fringes of San Diego). But
the community, and even the world has mobilized to care for and support the
victims. The fire isn't out and the insurance companies have already written
and given out the initial checks so people can rebuild.
Thousands of homes were offered for the displaced people to live in. I even offered my guest bedroom, but I think we're too far away from the lost homes to make it convenient for anyone who lost a home. There is more help than they need. People have donated tons literally TONS of food, water, wipes, beds, clothes, etc. to the firefighters (from all over the country and CANADA) who dropped everything to come to help us.
We are so
grateful for them. We are so very sad for the one who died and the two who were
burned. Some of our firefighters were busy fighting for others homes when their
own houses burned down.
Ed note:
WE are separated by distance, but we are all small boaters. Several of the "bums"
had expressed concern about Hurricane Juan and we thank them.
A
Visit to the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival
From Chris Bennett with comments from Jamie Orr
We began our voyage on the evening of Thursday Sept 4, planning to cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca from Victoria to Port Townsend that evening. However the marine forecast advised of a small craft warning. Being in no mood for an uncomfortable wet trip, we re-tired to a nearby Chinese restaurant before sailing to nearby Chatham Island. We dropped the hook in 2 fathoms, set up the boom tent, and turned in for an early night. John Ewing took the cabin and Jamie Orr and I slept under the boom tent. Jamie's boat, a Chebacco 20, named ‘Wayward Lass' has cockpit floorboards that can be raised to create a comfortable sleeping platform and we spent the night under the stars listening to the wind blowing off the strait.
I'm still not clear on just why we chose to spend a night at anchor when we
could have been in our warm beds, but have to admit it allowed an early start
on Friday. The anchorage is a beautiful little cove, with good shelter, and
I plan to visit it again sometime soon, this time with the family.
The next morning we sailed for Port Townsend. Fog, strong currents, and occasional
tidal rips kept things interesting and we were glad to have a hand-held GPS
to assist with navigation. The main hazard in a fog-bound strait crossing is
ship traffic so we flew a radar deflector from the main flag halyard and kept
a close watch for ‘rivets in the fog'.
This was the
foggiest trip out of the four I've made to Port Townsend. Going over, at least
it was clear when we started, but coming back we found ourselves in fog almost
immediately. We carried on, which highlights the dangers of deadlines and steady
jobs. This wasn't a very good decision – there was no danger of getting
lost, but there are several big ship lanes in the strait, not to mention tug
and barge traffic, which I like even less.
After a few
hours, the sun appeared and the wind died away so we motored until just off
the entrance to Puget Sound where the wind began to pick up. We hoisted sail
and turned the corner to Port Townsend. In the distance gaff rigged cutters,
tall ships and graceful sloops criss-crossed the entrance to the port and we
had a glorious sail amongst this fleet of classic wooden boats. We landed at
the town marina fuel jetty and after clearing customs relaxed with a beer in
the cockpit. Jamie's friend John Kohnen joined us after secur-ing his Jordan
skiff Pickle (you may have run across John's amazing nautical web site –
‘The Mother of All Maritime Links'). The evening was spent sampling local
brew and blues music at the Port Townsend Brewery and enjoying fish and chips
at a nearby "clas-sic" eatery, before turning in for the night at
our marina berth.
I don't know
how I'd survive Port Townsend without fish and chips at Sea-J's. They're right
by the Boat Haven, and always seem to be open when I'm hungry.
Saturday dawned cloudy and threatening rain, but we soon forgot the weather
in the excitement of attending one of North America's best wooden boat shows.
(Second only to the Depoe Bay Wooden Boat Show and Crab Feed!)
While Jamie
and John met with some of their friends from Oregon and Washington, I visited
the boats and listened to some of the speakers at the show. There were more
than a hundred boats on display ranging from strip built kayaks and sailing
cruising canoes through stout cutters such as the Pardey's Taleisin to substantial
sail training vessels. I admit to a bias toward the smaller boats, but despite
this, there was much to keep me occupied. Sam Devlin (a boat designer and builder
in nearby Olympia) had a number of boats on display including a newly designed
19 foot stitch and glue catboat – The Wompus Cat. I chatted with one of
Devlin's boat builders who has built the Devlin Egret for his personal use.
This is a 15 foot rowing/sailing skiff that looks like a slightly beamy dory.
It was the first boat that I built and I found it interesting to compare notes
on the conversions he had made to improve her sailing and cruising capabilities.
John Guzzwell's Dolly was there, although her new owners, a Japanese couple,
seemed a little embarrassed by all the attention. Dolly is based on Guzzwell's
Trekka, a 21 foot Laurent Giles design that Guzzwell sailed alone around the
world in the 1950's. Other boats of note included a beautiful Fox Island 22
designed by Joel white, two Lyle Hess cutters (sister ships to Lin and Larry
Pardey's famous Seraffyn), Carol Hasse's beautifully maintained Nordic folkboat,
and a gold-plater version of Ian Oughtred's MacGregor sailing canoe.
The show's
speakers were equally interesting and I attended talks on cruising in small
open boats, sail making, and rigging. Carol Hasse, based out of Port Townsend,
was one of the founders of the festival more than 25 years ago and has built
a reputation for craft-ing the world's finest cruising sails. After listening
to her detailed explanation of the differences between typical sails and those
built for extended cruising, I came away with an increased appreciation of the
art of the sail maker. From the presentation by rigger Brion Toss, I learned
that you should not increase the size of your standing rigging in order to make
your boat ‘stronger'. Doing so simply increases the strain on the boat
because you need to use higher tension to correctly tune the thicker wire. From
the small boat cruising talk, I learned that one should pay attention to the
contour lines on a chart. In areas subject to tidal currents (such as the strait
we had just crossed),
closely-spaced contours indicate steep underwater slopes that can cause lumpy
seas and tidal rips. On our return trip, we were to see this in practice as
we crossed several of these areas, nearing Victoria. In the afternoon Jamie
and the two Johns went for a sail in Wayward Lass to get a close up view of
the schooner races. We met for supper and then wandered back to the festival
where we took another turn around the displayed yachts before turning in.
It's always
fun to sail at Port Townsend, but the high point of my (and Wayward Lass') day
was passing Bryony, a 45 foot cutter – I must admit though, that she had
a reef in her main, and as soon as she shook that out, she was gone! Watching
the schooner race we stayed out of the way of the racers, but saw some (I think)
non-competing schooners from very close as they overtook us -- the Lynx, a replica
1812 Privateer (a topsail schooner of maybe 100 feet) went by to windward only
a few feet away. Barlovento won the schoo-ner race by so much, that I think
they should offer another first prize for the "First Finisher after Barlovento"!
That night,
Jamie's new tarp was put to the test as rain and wind battered our shelter.
The weather forecasts were misleading on the eve of our final day, predicting
much stronger winds than actually occurred. We put off our planned 4 am departure
based on these forecasts, but decided around 8 am that it would make sense to
catch the remainder of a favourable tide. We departed under motor and the return
crossing was uneventful, with conditions mild enough to permit a brew-up in
the cockpit. We enjoyed a cup of tea as we motored with favourable currents
for the first couple of hours. The remainder of the crossing was against a 1-2
knot current and the wind rose enough after lunch to give us a gentle sail into
Oak Bay Marina. Jamie cleared us through customs and retrieved the tow vehicle.
We were home by supper, tired, but content after a weekend fully immersed in
sailing and wooden boats.
Juan de Fuca
Strait is a big place, and the forecasts are usually pretty accurate, but they
missed by a mile on Saturday night. However, we did get some rain squalls in
the marina that wet the bottom of our sleeping bags. The rear of the shelter
is wide open, which is fine at anchor, but in the marina, we can't swing to
face the wind. Luckily, most of the rain came in on Chris' side!
Overall, it was another thoroughly enjoyable weekend at another Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival. See you next year! (If the weather gods smile!)
SWBANS Monthly Meetings
It has been agreed by our members at the November meeting/social at Annie and
Ryerson's home to cancel our monthly meetings at the Maritime Museum of the
Atlantic.
Several reasons were explained. First, it was getting more and more difficult
to come up with guest speakers and topics of interest. Second, because of the
first reason, attendance had dropped off and the few regulars were just tired
of showing up for a business meet-ing alone. We are after all, a social bunch
and it was noted that at social meetings attendance was always very good.
It has been
voted then that all future gatherings will be at a boat shed looking over some
new project, a members home who may or may not have a project underway, some
deserted beach or a quiet anchorage, and of course, our Annual General Meeting
at Mahone Bay during the Festival.
After 10 years, we must express our sincere thanks to the MMA for all their
help and for the free room to hold our meetings in. We will continue of course
to be part of the MMA in anyway we can.
Wind,
Waves, Mussels, and a Gull went Cha Cha Cha .......
by Ulli Höger
We had quite
a few nice days this Fall, but after Juan hit Nova Scotia end of September the
paddling season stalled somehow. Everybody seemed busy recovering from the storm,
or at least didn't want to be in the peoples face who did. On the last October
weekend, the one on which time fell back to normal, Rob Short and I decided
to head out once more, possibly for the last time in 2003. Destination Lower
Prospect.
We had not
a good idea what to expect, since there was no word how hard the islands in
Prospect Bay where hit by the hurricane and how extensive the damage would be.
We knew that local fishermen had suffered substantial losses of equipment and
severe damage to their houses and infrastructure, but would all the roads and
launch spots be accessible? Scouting a week earlier confirmed open roads, so
our trip was a go.....
All week it
had been pretty windy and the water was a bit stirred up. The tide was going
out and passing under the bridge into Prospect Bay was already impossible when
we put our kayaks in. We headed for "The Gut", a channel leading from
Terrence Bay to Prospect Bay. Brilliant spontaneous idea:"Lets take a different
route today! We can go around the exposed headland towards Hearn Island".
I had done this very few times before. Shoals, rocks, and the open and exposed
coastline make for a rough ride on most days, and landing on the 2 mile stretch
is nearly impossible without trashing boat and limbs on the steep rocks. So
you want a calm day to do this in comfort. And despite the chop it looked like
a calm day right now.
Aware of the
potential problems Rob and I poked through the first barrier of rocks and things
looked not to bad. The sea was stirred up a bit, kind of choppy, but swell and
waves looked not big or even braking. "So lets go this way then".
As soon as we passed the last row of rocks the picture changed quickly. The
swell had suddenly more amplitude than before, steep waves followed each other
in short intervals. We kept going anyway, turning between the rocks wasn't an
option, and likely it would get better as soon as we cleared the shallows.
As mentioned
before the tide was moving out, and it turned out later, that Sunday was the
day with the lowest low and the highest high tide of the year. Waves started
building up with the falling water and there was suddenly wind. We paddled head
on into wind and waves, but soon we would have to change our course to follow
the coastline towards Hearn Island. The required 90 degree turn would make wind
and waves hit our port side. Heading straight into steep swell and waves with
a good 2.5 - 3 meter amplitude is one thing and certainly the easiest way to
deal with such conditions. Already now only a couple of deep reflexive braces
had kept me from doing an involuntary fish count. Getting such a beating from
the side or from behind wouldn't be fun anymore and more of a challenge than
we were
asking for.
After a quick
huddle we decided to turn around and head back to where we came from. This would
force us to negotiate our way back through the rocks. Swell and waves would
push us and trying to broach the kayak. Still this option looked better than
fighting our way down the exposed coastline. The fastest way to turn a kayak
is while sitting on the peak of a wave. The waterline is the shortest at this
point and it takes the least effort to move the boat around. And it gives you
time to position yourself in front of the next wave to hitch a ride or at least
to avoid instant broaching. Both of us made the turn without problems. Staying
close to each other -just in case- and calling out approaching waves we paddled
back towards the rocks. Riding the peak of a wave we avoided ground contact
in the shallows and outmaneuvered menacing rocks on both sides. As soon as the
rocks were behind us the ocean was calm again, just as it was half an hour earlier.
So much to breakwaters.....
We used "The
Gut" to get into Prospect Bay. Here in the shelter of the islands the ocean
was calm like a mirror. Hearn Island was still our next destination, and guess
which route we picked to get there?
Option number 1: Go around Shannon Island, exposed and barely or not at all
shaded by Betty Island from swells.
Option number two: Take the channel on the Shannon's northern side leading to
Rogues Roost, a route as sheltered as it can be.
Option 2? Wrong guess! The time change the night before must have had serious
effect on our short time memory, which isn't very good in men anyway. (Why do
you think there are so many instant replays in sport shows?). We didn't go through
the sheltered channel leading to Rogues Roost to get to Hearn Island. No Sir,
we headed straight back into swell and waves we had encountered thirty minutes
earlier not to far away and headed out to pass Shannon Island's southern end.
Waves and wind had us back.
Paddling the now quartering swell was manageable, but I was glad that we made
the call earlier on our first encounter with those conditions to turn around.
Doing all the bracing and swell riding was OK for the 2 km stretch ahead of
us before we would find sheltered water behind Burnt Island. Doing this kind
of exercise for several miles of open coastline would have been painful at least.
Eventually we landed on Hearn Island's sand beach. The tide was still going
out and made the beach as big as I have never seen it before. I was surprised
how little damage the hurricane had done to the little off-shore island. The
waves had been pounding over the lower part in its center, washed up seaweed
was proof of that. Other than that there was not much to remind of Juan. Guess
the coniferous trees on those islands, sturdy and hunched as they are, have
a solid foothold in the rocky ground. Otherwise storms in the past would have
already done what even Juan wasn't able to do to them.
Back at the
beach we took advantage of the low water level and explored life in the tidal
zone. There a single Greater Black Backed gull got my attention. The bird was
performing a step dance in the sand close to the water edge on the far end of
the beach. When we approached it, the bird it retreated into the water, keeping
a keen eye on us. Two big guys with skirts can't be trusted. As soon as we increased
the distance to it. the gull was back dancing in the mud.
Flamenco on the beach, performed by a gull? What was that all about? As a biologist
I know that there are two possible reasons for strange looking behavioral rituals
-and those reasons do not only apply to gulls. Number one: Attract a mate by
showing off; not a very likely here since this was the only gull in sight. Number
two: Food is always a good second guess if it comes to explain weird acting.
And gulls are always hungry. What was the snack to dance for? Suddenly the gull
darted up the beach and fetched something from the sand. Still we had no idea
what it could have been, and the gull was back to perform its ritual. Again
a sudden burst of movement and another something ended up in the gulls stomach.
Mysterious! Walking down the beach we noticed little fish zipping around in
the shallows, but dancing would for sure not get them closer to the gull and
up the beach. The dance was a good performance, but not that good. Suddenly,
putting down a foot into the sand/water mix a finger long eely something emerged
from the mud and escaped the boot. Sandeels! Fish hiding in the mud/water suspension,
that's what the gull was after.
Rob managed to grab one for a close-up photo and then we released the fish.
Our culinary minds where already tuned to mussels with garlic butter. Big mussels
with their solid shells firmly closed were washed up all over the beach, presumably
by the storm. In anticipation of a feast we collected a plastic bag full of
those giant mussels for apres paddling consumption.
For the way back to the take-out we used the sheltered channel north of Shannon
Island. We may be slow learners, but there is hope. Passing through the channel
we found more mussels attached to the exposed rocks. Greedy for more I jumped
out of the boat into the mud and after pulling my boots free I collected another
bag. Those were smaller, more mussel like looking mussels scraped fresh from
the rocks. Oh man, steamed mussels with french fries and garlic butter for supper.
That's when we would learn another lesson that day, and since food was involved
it will likely stick for a while.
After cleaning and steaming our catch, melting the butter and frying the frenchs
we where prepared for the feast. All our mussels were good, shells closed before
cooking and open after steaming. Lets dig in! Crunch! As it turned out the grandfathers
of all mussel collected on the beach were full of sand, and on top of that they
didn't look very tempting. Kind of old and chewy. We retired most of them into
the compost. The ones scrapped from the rocks were much better, just as mussels
are supposed to be. Bigger is not always better.
The
Amazing Magic Carpet
by Ryerson Clark
LIke no ordinary carpet or common household rug, the Magic Carpet of old could
take it's riders in comfort and style to wonderful destinations, safely and
always under control.
This is how
Annie and I have come to think of our Windsprint Trimaran after the first season
of testing. We also think of it as a giant sea bird spreading it's vast wings
and gliding over the waves. for our "Loon" has a span of 12 feet !
This in a 16 foot LOA craft is mind boggling at first and does take some getting
used to. Not in the sailing qualities as they are the most flawless of any small
boat I have sailed aboard, but in the coming up to a dock, or getting aborad
from the side, or slipping through a tight anchorage. Not a big problem, just
a different way of thinking, in advance.
As promised,
here is our report after the first season aboard Loon. I'll outline her sailing
qualities as well as some building tips and a few of the trips we did this year.
Building was straight forward as we really just did what "looked"
right so far as the lines of the amas (pontoons) went. Years before I made a
model and used these lines as a starting point. They were modified in the construction
stage to make the ends finer after we saw them on their temporary mounts next
to the hull. ( the finished lines are free to any windsprint owner that wants
them )
The akas (cross
pieces that hold the amas to the main hull) we made from eight dollars worth
of construction grade 2x4 spruce. Our reasoning was way spend money on an experiment
when these would do. Well, they did so well that we will use them as a pattern
for some new ones I am about to start. The 2x4s will work but because they are
construction grade, they tend to be unstable and are start-ing to twist. The
new ones will be laminated spruce with a bit of oak for the ends where they
fasten to the amas.
This first
year we bolted the amas to the akas and lashed the akas to the main hull. This
season will see lashings all round as they worked far better then the bolts,
which were truly over kill. For lashings we used super low stretch line (quarter
inch) and it only needed to be tightened once all season.
Overal impressions
are that we have pretty well hit the design exactly. Loon sails stable, comfortable
and is very roomy. Her speed is just about the same as the mono hull alone,
maybe faster as the wind picks up. She comes apart easily for trailering and
all parts, including the main hull can be managed by two people to lift on the
trailer. Care must be taken not to break anything sailing, mainly because of
the stability you must remember to reef as if it was a mono-windsprint.. If
not, there is a large strain on the mast which you could stay if you liked,
but also the rudder fasteners (to the main hull) would have to be made heavier
and maybe the rudder itself. Reef early and the ride is nicer and you go just
about as fast with less fatique on the boat or the helmsman. If it is that windy
that you feel the need to "hike out", it is too late as the mast will
be over the side! I would expect it would have to be well over twenty knots
from the beam to sink one of the amas with you in the main hull, which by the
way, make excellent guides to reefing as they sink.
New for 2004
will be hammocks just outside the main hull across the akas as well as a tent
if time allows. This will solve one of the biggest unforeseen problems we had..
how to get aboard from a wharf! Walking a six foot span on a 2x4 on edge was
tricky and I only did it twice. I rigged a 12 inch board, like a gangplank (which
it was) that I could sail with in the main hull or leave on the "home"
wharf, depending on my destination. Going to the beach wasn't a problem as you
could sail right up it and step off the bow dry. With the hammocks I'll not
need the plank anymore, just "roll" aboard. These will also make great
suntanning platforms and wonderful roomy bunks under a tent, as well as seats
for sailing to give you a change of position from the floor seat on long trips
As a camp
cruiser, I don't think it can be beat for our needs. Easy to get to where you
want by trailer (won't really need a launch ramp) , fast, stable (both underway
and as a bed at anchor), and above all, very roomy under a tent! We expect the
"floor" space to measure almost 10 feet in the beam by 7 foot six
fore and aft! You will be able to sit in the hammocks as in a chair or lay out
on them and still have a 4x7 (approx) main hull space free.
Actual sailing trips were loads of fun although we didn't make any long passages. Mostly we played about McNabs and Lawlors Islands which are fairly sheltered from fetch, but the wind can get up there. One trip Annie and I headed out on a 10 knot breeze from the sea towards Devils Island. This should only be done in the best conditions in a small craft as it is open sea (though not far). Our intent was to meet other SWBANS members who had kayaked out earlier in the day. We found them about half way on their return trip. The sea conditions were good, only abour a foot or two of swell except around some reefs where it built up. We then sailed back in Drake's Passage (between Lawlor's and McNab's) to Wreck Cove beach for a group lunch. Beam on the the swell proved no trouble and only a little wet came aboard in spray from the amas.
On another
trip we took three adults and a 90 pound dog to Ive's Cove (McNab's) to pick
rosehips for wine making. Beached her on the point, had some lunch and then
started back home to Eastern Passage. We just pushed off when we found Ken and
Katherine in Chelsea Victoria so we started back together. Loon in the lead
and a dropping tide found me stearing a bit close to Indian Point where our
dagger board hit a reef , stopping us dead! It was quite a shock as I always
cut this "corner" inside the bouy, but this time I was a bit too close
and talking over the stern to Ken rather then watching. Annie pulled the board,
waved Ken off just in time and with now only a few inches of draft, we sailed
over the rest of the shoal. Only damage was a bite out of the board, no problem,
a winter fix.
It is now winter and I will start the new akas this week, Loon will get fresh paint in the spring and I hope be sailing by late May this year.
The planning
for the 2004 Mahone Bay Wooden Boat Festival is well under way. This year we
have the "luxury" of knowing that our insurance is arranged and that
everything is in place for a great Festival.
We are hoping
to take advantage of our early start by making the Festival bigger and better
than ever, with more emphasis on the "wooden boat" part. We are hoping
to have much larger displays of classic boats, and boats under construction,
as well as new display areas for items of a nautical nature. We are also looking
at having more workshops, perhaps a ship modelers competition, boatbuilding
activities such as building a one-sheet skiff or a 6 hour canoe, and we may
also re-introduce boatyard tours. Any other ideas are always welcome!
Of course
the SWBANS sponsored small craft races will once again be a highlight of the
Festival. I can't say too much, but I do know that the Race Director Don Ives
has been hard at work on some new ideas for the races.
Last year
we were in need of financial donations to help the Festival get back on its
feet and many SWBANS members graciously helped out. This year, we have a different
request.
We are looking
for items for our new display areas. If you have any line drawings, ship models,
photographs, relics, or other nautical items of interest, or know of anyone
who does, please consider loaning them to the Festival for display. The display
areas are secure and weatherproof, so the items will be safe. We are also looking
for wooden boats and wooden boat projects to display on the wharf, as well as
wooden boats to fill the moorings around the wharf.
And one last
request - SWBANS members have done some incredible things (but we're only interesting
in those relating to boats and boatbuilding – it's a family festival),
and built some amazing boats. Why not share your skills and knowledge by conducting
a workshop at the Festival? It can be a talk, a hands-on demonstration, a display
and discussion of some project – it doesn't have to be anything huge or
elaborate, just something that you can share with other wooden boat enthusiasts.
If you can
help out with any of these things, please give me a call or send me a note.
There should be bigger crowds than usual this year because the Festival coincides with the Tall Ships visit to Halifax and we are hoping to entice visitors to that event to make the trip down to Mahone Bay while in the area. It is also the Town of Mahone Bay's 250 anniversary and the town is doing a lot of advertising to draw visitors for the ongoing festivities. It should be a great Festival and we're looking forward to seeing everyone there. You can get up to date Festival information at www.woodenboatfestival.org.