November 29, 2009
Cumberland Island GA
Cumberland Island is very famous. For what I am not so sure but I am sure that every cruiser we meet tells us how wonderful it is.
Until now Meredith has been able to resist the somatic properties of that opiate of the herd: conformity. No longer. Today Winston Smith finds his desperate little bar a bit more crowded. Make mine Victory Gin. A double.
Cumberland Island is a very large national park located just south of Brunswick GA.
It is also adjacent to the ultra secret Kings Bay Nuclear Submarine Repair Facility close to St. Marys Ga. Warnings abound about the need to avoid entering the waters constituting the grounds of the facility. Here, we are told the guards shoot first and don't bother with the questions.
Kings Bay works hard in the unending efforts of the local government to keep the world free of all political interference save US political interference. It also keeps our water nicely active on the Geiger scale.
Apparently there are wild horses living on this island. I know this because the Island's brochure tells me where to drive so I can see them. It may just be me but I find something quizzically paradoxical about being carried to observe former beasts of burden in the very machine that obviated the need for said beasts existence.
Like Edsels horses just won't go away.
The Budget Committee, loving all things furry and still nurturing a life long love affair with horses, is looking forward to it. Which means I will enjoy it too. A bit curmudgeonly perhaps and certainly at the greatest vicarious and physical distance from the beasts as possible.
No gin on the boat I will have to numb my senses with a double rum and whatever. But not until I have changed the oil on something first.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Still Going Nowhere
November 27, 2009
St. Marys, GA
Thanksgiving has long passed. Meredith has not moved.
We have 2 1/2 weeks to make 60 nm so there is no pressure to do anything. Temperatures in the low 60s during day and mid 30s overnight have us pinned in St. Marys.
Our destination for Christmas is Green Cove Springs, a working yard situate 30 miles up the St. John's River at Jacksonville. As a place to leave Meredith it had the overriding virtue of being well priced. Also a number of our friends keep their boats at the yard and we are intrigued to "check it out".
The crowd of boats attending Thanksgiving this year is about half gone. Fewer people visited this year than last. It is unlikely we will be in the area again for a decade. If we do find ourselves close we will not rush to reattend.
One reason to avoid the popular anchorages is so you can avoid the "organizers". In North America much of the cruising population is retirement age and, although they make their way to seemingly exotic locales such as the Bahamas, this group is largely sedentary. The Abacos marinas are full of boats on 3 or 4 month leases.
Wherever people coagulate you find the "organizers". There is a little PTA (Home and School Association for Canadians) in every sailing community. The members arrange social events. Partly it is done to occupy idle time. Partly it is done to provide contact with people off the boat.
There is a darker purpose too I suspect. Human organizations provide structure: rank is granted and power distributed. It is fun listening in on the "cruisers net" in popular anchorages to the machinations of the social ladder climbers fighting for position on committees to plan races, hold drinks parties or whatever. A very rigid pyramid of power exists and all who participate are working (or fighting) their way to the top.
It is all so IBM.
The rest of us benefit from the events which materialize with no effort from us. Mostly the events are enjoyable and we are appreciative if somewhat distainful of the process and its participants.
When two clots (groups of coagulated corpses) encounter one another there is competition and struggle for dominance. Last year the St. Marys Yacht Club was intimately involved in the Thanksgiving. They were offering to organize wireless internet for boaters; they gave rides to boaters bussing scores of us to local stores.
This year we were informed curtly that the St. Marys Yacht Club was no longer involved in any way. There had been a falling out. Some Yacht Club members were helping the "Committee" but the Yacht Club had nothing to do with thanksgiving. Full Stop.
We did not pursue the matter but it sort of looks like the transient "organizers" have wrested control of a years old event away from the permanent residents. No doubt this is perceived to be a major triumph by someone.
We suspect it merely heralds the decline and ultimate fall of the event. You best get here while you still can. It is fun.
St. Marys, GA
Thanksgiving has long passed. Meredith has not moved.
We have 2 1/2 weeks to make 60 nm so there is no pressure to do anything. Temperatures in the low 60s during day and mid 30s overnight have us pinned in St. Marys.
Our destination for Christmas is Green Cove Springs, a working yard situate 30 miles up the St. John's River at Jacksonville. As a place to leave Meredith it had the overriding virtue of being well priced. Also a number of our friends keep their boats at the yard and we are intrigued to "check it out".
The crowd of boats attending Thanksgiving this year is about half gone. Fewer people visited this year than last. It is unlikely we will be in the area again for a decade. If we do find ourselves close we will not rush to reattend.
One reason to avoid the popular anchorages is so you can avoid the "organizers". In North America much of the cruising population is retirement age and, although they make their way to seemingly exotic locales such as the Bahamas, this group is largely sedentary. The Abacos marinas are full of boats on 3 or 4 month leases.
Wherever people coagulate you find the "organizers". There is a little PTA (Home and School Association for Canadians) in every sailing community. The members arrange social events. Partly it is done to occupy idle time. Partly it is done to provide contact with people off the boat.
There is a darker purpose too I suspect. Human organizations provide structure: rank is granted and power distributed. It is fun listening in on the "cruisers net" in popular anchorages to the machinations of the social ladder climbers fighting for position on committees to plan races, hold drinks parties or whatever. A very rigid pyramid of power exists and all who participate are working (or fighting) their way to the top.
It is all so IBM.
The rest of us benefit from the events which materialize with no effort from us. Mostly the events are enjoyable and we are appreciative if somewhat distainful of the process and its participants.
When two clots (groups of coagulated corpses) encounter one another there is competition and struggle for dominance. Last year the St. Marys Yacht Club was intimately involved in the Thanksgiving. They were offering to organize wireless internet for boaters; they gave rides to boaters bussing scores of us to local stores.
This year we were informed curtly that the St. Marys Yacht Club was no longer involved in any way. There had been a falling out. Some Yacht Club members were helping the "Committee" but the Yacht Club had nothing to do with thanksgiving. Full Stop.
We did not pursue the matter but it sort of looks like the transient "organizers" have wrested control of a years old event away from the permanent residents. No doubt this is perceived to be a major triumph by someone.
We suspect it merely heralds the decline and ultimate fall of the event. You best get here while you still can. It is fun.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Does Size Matter? Three Boats
St. Marys, GA November 24, 2009
Sunrise, St. Augustine
Sunrise, St. AugustineMeredith arrived in St. Marys late yesterday in anticipation of this community's annual celebration of American Thanksgiving for sailors. The town puts on a full Thanksgiving dinner for all visiting cruisers every year. It started this out of sympathy for cruisers who were separated from their families at this time of year.
It has grown into a week long celebration: nightly happy hour at Seagle's Hotel hosted by barkeep Cindy the Porn Queen, boater's swap meet, daily drinks parties put on by various visiting cruisers and townfolk. It is a lot of fun.
With only eating, drinking and partying going on there is not much sailing stuff to write about. Today I look at Boat Size. Does Size Matter? Here are 3 boats at or under 30 feet.
How Big a Boat Do You Need?
No one sailing from Ontario into Florida will ever have a big enough boat to compare to the locals. Down here retired farmers buy new 45 foot boats for weekend sailing. No one we know will ever have a boat big enough to make even the second tranche of the size awards.
The question is: what is the minimum size of boat you need to cruise the Caribbean? Here are three boats all under 30 feet covering a wide range of initial investment.
Serenity: 1969 Columbia 27. Investment $10,000 maybe
Sailed by Chas Serenity left Norfolk headed for Bahamas. Bryce was a passenger who paid Chas a small fee to teach him about offshore sailing. Bryce got a full lesson and then some.
Serenity orWhat's Left of Her
Lands in St. Augustine
About 160 nautical miles offshore this intrepid pair ran into unexpected weather: 50 knot winds and 30 foot seas. The 27 foot Columbia handled beautifully in these overwhelming conditions. The boys did admit that that standing sideways in the cockpit for 3 hours at a stretch with the keel out of the water from heeling grew a bit tiresome. Chas: "After the 3rd or 4th knockdown you learn the boat really is going to come back upright and then everything is ok".
Sure it was Chas.
After a day of sailing at a 60 degree angle of heel the sails blew out. The boys started the engine and headed for land.
In the business of sailing when your string of bad luck looks like its turning around you just did not look closely enough. Serenity's prop shaft found an interminably long fishing line which snaked around the shaft choking the life out of the engine. Waves and wind were so fierce they were afraid to go over the side to cut the line off.
Serenity found and foundered on a shoal. For 24 hours these two guys sat on their boat and were bashed onto the shoal.
Conditions improved enough to allow them to dive on the shaft and cut the fishing line free. Once again they headed for safety of land. They ran out of fuel.
Here is what we helped land at the dock:
Connie talks to Bryce and Chas about their Harrowing ExperienceChas:
Bryce:
The genoa was tatters, the main was torn in half, the headstay was broken and the mast seemed to be held up by the foil from the furling.
The boat was late 1960's with no improvements or upgrades. Sails may have been original and are being replaced with used sails from Sailor's Exchange in St. Augustine. Nothing seems to have been done to this boat since it was new.
But the boat, a 27 foot 35 year old poorly maintained Columbia, kept them safe and saw them home.
Whisper: 1972 C&C 30 Investment $25 - 35,000 (my guess)
Victor and Marilyn are a pair of septuagenarians out of Green's Harbour, Nfld. ('If you can say underSTAND you can pronounce NewfoundLAND' says Vic). We met them as they sailed into St. Augustine harbour. They waved to us as they passed the stern. The Budget Committee is an inveterate waver and so we had to visit.
Victor owned the Home Hardware store in Green's Harbour until he retired and sold out. In anticipation of retiring he started sailing and bought the C & C 30. Victor found ocean racing and took it on with a passion and Marilyn was quick to tell us that no one wanted to be on the boat when Victor started giving orders: especially her sister, "poor dear, she nearly dieeeed of mortification and apoplexy and her only just out of therapy the poor little thing"
Victor repowered installing a small diesel in place of the old Atomic 4 fitting to the original C&C's. Then he took the rudder off and studied it. Not liking the design at all he built his own rudder with "stainless tabs that run right to the hind end. Even if my rudder falls away I still has a rudder" says Victor.
Not satisfied with the internal layout Victor redesigned his C&C and then came down to Ontario to talk to George Cuthbertson, designer of his boat and one of the Cs, specifically about what Victor saw to be the shortcomings. George and Victor got on famously.
Everything on the boat is made by Victor. The cockpit table is a pine plank which Vic and Marilyn have varnished into a piece of furniture. Unadorned save for the varnish it is a clever cockpit table and then some. It fits the narrow space beautifully. Likewise the rest of the boat has been reconstructed by Vic using materials at hand - no expert carptentry, no electronic wizardry - just careful attention to the job at hand by determined amateurs.
For our friends back in Bayfield: Victor knows Jake very well and discussed design of the Bayfield line with Jake at length. Vic told me a bit of the story behind Jake's own Bayfield "For Sale".
Victor and Marilyn are headed for Cuba and sadly will leave before us. Marilyn had a little notebook full of all the stuff she had gleaned from all the cruisers she met along the way and it was a compendium of knowledge all of it accurate according to the bits we had researched. Our research found itself sadly lacking in the presence of Marilyn's unrelenting questions.
We would have had a much better time with them as companions.
Babykiller B: Bertram 30, investment - I won't guess online but more than a base 6 figure amount.
Frequent readers will be familiar with Babykiller B and its unique owners, Randy and Donna. The Bertram was not designed as a cruising boat. But Randy liked the attributes of the Bertram, starting with its design philosophy and build quality.
Randy knows power boats. He wanted a quality built efficient design with proven speed and comfortable layout. Randy likes his creature comfort and Donna utters faint protest. Sometimes the protest is actually mute. Donna loves the boat and approves of its enhancement by Randy.
The Bertram is an offshore fishing boat fast and pretty stable. It's twin 370 hp Cummins diesels bring it to a comfortable cruise of 25 knots burning only 15 gallons an hour which is exceptional.
Randy likes to go fast as well.
The Bertram is not in its native form a comfortable living platform. It is a fishing shack that floats: one room with as much space devoted to freezers for fish as for living for humans.
Randy started with this and removed the offensive bits left by prior owners who were fishermen. The rusted fridge was turfed, the cushions sterilized the carpeting removed and replaced. New canvas, air conditioning, new LED lighting, new sound system (2 actually), high capacity inverter/charger, second battery bank, 25 inch flat screen tv, electric induction stovetop and a latte machine all followed.
This boat is a palace.
He kept the outriggers - those long pole things that fishermen use to keep their lines in place 10 or 15 meters from the side of the boat. Neither he nor Donna fish.
It is Randy's custom to hide the boat's true nature (and the nature of everything else he owns). To the casual observer Babykiller is an ok Bertram 30 fishing boat, certainly nothing special down here.
So: What's the Point
These 3 boats are all under 30 feet in length. Each boat is now in Florida and all headed for Cuba and/or the Bahamas.
Each boat is truly unique as are their owners and the three of them cover a broad spectrum of required investment.
The point I guess is that it does not take a big boat to do this stuff. It takes a sailor. If you really just don't want to do it you will never have a boat big enough or sufficiently well equipped. If you want to do it you just go. Recalling Serenity my advice to those who are not sure if they want to go cruising is not to.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Someone Stole our Dinghy and Outboard!!!!
St. Marys, GA (GA - FL border)
November 24, 2009
The St. Augustine sun peeked through through the companionway and introduced itself to the galley and salon. It being 6:45 a.m. my bleary eyes mistook this as more of a full bore home invasion.
Consciousness having thus been thrust upon us our day began. It was to be a busy one. The new genoa from Doyle had proved itself and we had two old foresails to dispose of. Final shopping needed doing before we left St. Augustine and showers were also on the agenda.
This all had to be done before noon as our dinghy landing permission and shower access privileges expired then. At $10 a day you do not want to incur additional landing fees. Doing so would be enough to make you spend another day in St. Augustine.
Completing our daily ablutions we selected and donned suitable garb from the extensive wardrobe in our walk in closet (also known as our VBerth). We then dug out the overstuffed sail bags containing our old sails and threw them out the companionway ahead of us. Preparations in hand we emerged to challenge the day.
Stepping to the starboard rail to dump the first sail overboard and into the dinghy it was impossible not to notice that there was no dinghy to do the receiving.
Nothing gets your blood pumping like finding ocean where your dinghy is supposed to be.
Naturally enough we were galvanized into action. (An odd use of the term galvanized when you consider the nautical environment shreds galvanizing like lettuce in a grater). We carefully looked for and aft along the entire starboard side. All that was left of our dinghy and its 50 foot painter was a 20 foot length trailing in the Atlantic off our starboard side in the very strong St. Augustine current.
First thought running was that the dinghy painter had separated and the dinghy carried away in the very strong current. This thought was formulated in aid of human kindness. It was also a natural extension of the operating principle on Meredith that when a system fails the first thing you check is the last thing you "fixed" on that system.
A few days earlier the Budget Committee had been bothered by the squeaking noise made when the dinghy rubbed against the topsides of Meredith in the strong St. Augustine current. Ever the helpful mate I tied a new loop to extend our dinghy painter. When I did so I noticed the old loop looked a bit worn around its strain points so I untied it and "freshened the nip".
Past experience indicated that incompetence was a likely player and that the painter was in worse condition than I had thought.
We scanned the horizon with the binoculars looking in the direction of the current to see if our dinghy could be spotted. A calmer mind would have realized that since we did not know when the dinghy escaped its tether we had no idea which way the tide was running at the time of escape. We did not have any idea where to look.
In fairness we were a bit stunned at finding our dinghy gone. It is a very odd emotion let me tell you.
Our kind view of human nature was dashed when we pulled in the 20 foot remainder of our dinghy painter and examined its end. It was clean cut. No frayed end or pulled fibers. This end had been cut clean.
Damn. Someone had come up in the night and taken our dinghy and its outboard away.
Disheartened now we called the marina in a "what the heck" gesture to see if anyone had spotted a loose dinghy and reported it. No such luck. The marina did give us the phone number for the St. Augustine police so we could report the theft. Now there is no useful purpose served by phone the police in a matter such as this because the police are too busy working on important matters to take an interest. When you think about it what can they do?
You need a police report number before you can file an insurance claim and so you must waste the police department's time to satisfy your insurer.
St. Augustine police dispatcher was sympathetic but explained we would have to pull into the municipal marina and call again before they would dispatch an officer. The police report was going to cost us money because St. Augustine marina charges $4 an hour for temporary dockage. Nothing we could do about that.
I started the diesel in preparation to weigh anchor and move from our nice anchorage to the marina to tend to unpleasant business. The Budget Committee and I were still a bit numb from the whole thing and we were working in a fog.
The Budget Committee worked her way forward on deck to the windlass switches and I put the diesel in slow forward to take the strain off the windlass caused by tidal current. Connie started to wave her arms and yell although I could not hear a thing she said. What calamity had befallen us now was the general thought in my head.
The Budget Committee was not moving to weigh anchor so whatever the problem was it was big. I moved forward to help. My wife was not making sense but whether this was her impaired delivery of language or my impaired receipt of same was not apparent.
Arriving at the bow I shared her breakdown.
Wrapped around the anchor rode was our dinghy.
When I had tied the new loop I ensured the painter would be long enough to float the dinghy well astern of Meredith to avoid the squeaking. Seemingly I had also ensured the painter would be long enough to float the dinghy well forward of the bow. During the night an odd confluence of wind and current found Meredith pointing one way the dinghy being pushed the other. The dinghy was floating forward of Meredith.
When the tide and wind rationalized the dinghy came along side the port side of our boat and got its painter tangled in the anchor rode. The dinghy was pinned at the front end of the boat on the wrong side. It had been pulled very hard in the current and its painter was taut and hidden under the toerail of Meredith with extends a lip over the side. The20 feet of line which had been "cut" was the other end of the original painter and it had indeed been cut - by me when I bought the line at West Marine.
Reflecting we were happy that our first reaction was to suspect our own incompetence and not the failure of human nature. It was good to have given our species the initial benefit of the doubt and to have had that inclination be proved correct.
How depressing is it for the future of our race that our initial suspicion - human incompetence was not only correct but compounded so thoroughly in the process.
Just another day in paradise.
The end was not frayed. The painter had not parted under strain or stress.
November 24, 2009
The St. Augustine sun peeked through through the companionway and introduced itself to the galley and salon. It being 6:45 a.m. my bleary eyes mistook this as more of a full bore home invasion.
Consciousness having thus been thrust upon us our day began. It was to be a busy one. The new genoa from Doyle had proved itself and we had two old foresails to dispose of. Final shopping needed doing before we left St. Augustine and showers were also on the agenda.
This all had to be done before noon as our dinghy landing permission and shower access privileges expired then. At $10 a day you do not want to incur additional landing fees. Doing so would be enough to make you spend another day in St. Augustine.
Completing our daily ablutions we selected and donned suitable garb from the extensive wardrobe in our walk in closet (also known as our VBerth). We then dug out the overstuffed sail bags containing our old sails and threw them out the companionway ahead of us. Preparations in hand we emerged to challenge the day.
Stepping to the starboard rail to dump the first sail overboard and into the dinghy it was impossible not to notice that there was no dinghy to do the receiving.
Nothing gets your blood pumping like finding ocean where your dinghy is supposed to be.
Naturally enough we were galvanized into action. (An odd use of the term galvanized when you consider the nautical environment shreds galvanizing like lettuce in a grater). We carefully looked for and aft along the entire starboard side. All that was left of our dinghy and its 50 foot painter was a 20 foot length trailing in the Atlantic off our starboard side in the very strong St. Augustine current.
First thought running was that the dinghy painter had separated and the dinghy carried away in the very strong current. This thought was formulated in aid of human kindness. It was also a natural extension of the operating principle on Meredith that when a system fails the first thing you check is the last thing you "fixed" on that system.
A few days earlier the Budget Committee had been bothered by the squeaking noise made when the dinghy rubbed against the topsides of Meredith in the strong St. Augustine current. Ever the helpful mate I tied a new loop to extend our dinghy painter. When I did so I noticed the old loop looked a bit worn around its strain points so I untied it and "freshened the nip".
Past experience indicated that incompetence was a likely player and that the painter was in worse condition than I had thought.
We scanned the horizon with the binoculars looking in the direction of the current to see if our dinghy could be spotted. A calmer mind would have realized that since we did not know when the dinghy escaped its tether we had no idea which way the tide was running at the time of escape. We did not have any idea where to look.
In fairness we were a bit stunned at finding our dinghy gone. It is a very odd emotion let me tell you.
Our kind view of human nature was dashed when we pulled in the 20 foot remainder of our dinghy painter and examined its end. It was clean cut. No frayed end or pulled fibers. This end had been cut clean.
Damn. Someone had come up in the night and taken our dinghy and its outboard away.
Disheartened now we called the marina in a "what the heck" gesture to see if anyone had spotted a loose dinghy and reported it. No such luck. The marina did give us the phone number for the St. Augustine police so we could report the theft. Now there is no useful purpose served by phone the police in a matter such as this because the police are too busy working on important matters to take an interest. When you think about it what can they do?
You need a police report number before you can file an insurance claim and so you must waste the police department's time to satisfy your insurer.
St. Augustine police dispatcher was sympathetic but explained we would have to pull into the municipal marina and call again before they would dispatch an officer. The police report was going to cost us money because St. Augustine marina charges $4 an hour for temporary dockage. Nothing we could do about that.
I started the diesel in preparation to weigh anchor and move from our nice anchorage to the marina to tend to unpleasant business. The Budget Committee and I were still a bit numb from the whole thing and we were working in a fog.
The Budget Committee worked her way forward on deck to the windlass switches and I put the diesel in slow forward to take the strain off the windlass caused by tidal current. Connie started to wave her arms and yell although I could not hear a thing she said. What calamity had befallen us now was the general thought in my head.
The Budget Committee was not moving to weigh anchor so whatever the problem was it was big. I moved forward to help. My wife was not making sense but whether this was her impaired delivery of language or my impaired receipt of same was not apparent.
Arriving at the bow I shared her breakdown.
Wrapped around the anchor rode was our dinghy.
When I had tied the new loop I ensured the painter would be long enough to float the dinghy well astern of Meredith to avoid the squeaking. Seemingly I had also ensured the painter would be long enough to float the dinghy well forward of the bow. During the night an odd confluence of wind and current found Meredith pointing one way the dinghy being pushed the other. The dinghy was floating forward of Meredith.
When the tide and wind rationalized the dinghy came along side the port side of our boat and got its painter tangled in the anchor rode. The dinghy was pinned at the front end of the boat on the wrong side. It had been pulled very hard in the current and its painter was taut and hidden under the toerail of Meredith with extends a lip over the side. The20 feet of line which had been "cut" was the other end of the original painter and it had indeed been cut - by me when I bought the line at West Marine.
Reflecting we were happy that our first reaction was to suspect our own incompetence and not the failure of human nature. It was good to have given our species the initial benefit of the doubt and to have had that inclination be proved correct.
How depressing is it for the future of our race that our initial suspicion - human incompetence was not only correct but compounded so thoroughly in the process.
Just another day in paradise.
The end was not frayed. The painter had not parted under strain or stress.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
St. Augustine? Why the Devil Did We Come Here?
St. Augustine, FL
November 15, 2009
Sitting out five days of rain in Beaufort left us a bit eager to put in some distance. When the remnants of Ida finally departed taking with them the cold and the rain it was time for Meredith to Head 'Em Up and Move 'Em Out.
This was too bad as we had anticipated enjoying Beaufort, always a favoured stop, for a few days and even getting some labour intensive work done.
Lady's Island Bridge which separates Factory Creek from downtown Beaufort opens at 7 a.m. and not again until 9 a.m. Eager travellers were up and off by 7, not so Meredith. Our intention was to slip out of the waterway at Royal Island Sound and run outside to St. Simon Sound where we would reconnect with the ICW and anchor in the Fredericka River. We look forward to a day or two in the Fredericka River, just North of Brunswick GA.
Winds were forecast light - 15 knots out of the North West declining to 10 knots over the afternoon. Waves were to be 2 - 4 feet. It is a short trip Beaufort to Brunswick, not more than 24 hours and you have to keep your speed down to stretch it to this. The reason you want to keep your speed down is so you do not arrive at St. Simon Sound in the dark - never a good time to try to enter an unknown inlet from the ocean. Arriving in the dark meant we would have to waste turning circles in the black water from our time of arrival until daylight.
A light wind gave us a slow speed and with a late departure we calculated we were in good order to make Brunswick GA in daylight.
Tide was with us as we ran the section of the Beaufort River from Beaufort to the Sound at 8 to 10 knots. You begin to get an idea of the effect of tides - we set the throttle to an engine speed that should have delivered 6 knots and we sat back and enjoyed 8 to 10.
Getting into the Atlantic we started with a nice 13 knot breeze from the starboard quarter driving us along at an acceptable 4.2 knots. The waves were magnificent - 6 feet not four but travelling on a six second period - nice long slow waves pushing us along. Sadly the waves were off the port quarter, nearly the port beam.
Still all was looking great for an afternoon of comfortable sailing, just what we wanted to check out our new headsail.
As the day wore on the wind did not fall so much as collapse. When the actual wind hit 7 knots we hauled in the headsail and I set up the gennaker. Gennakers are special very large very lightweight sails designed for light wind. Slightly easier to sail than a spinnaker the gennaker is still a pain to set up. So what else do you have to do when you are 1/4 of the way done a 24 hour sail? Quit your bitching.
Just as I finished tying the after guy on the whisker pole (used to hold the sail out as far as possible to catch wind) the wind finished its decline. It had to. It had hit zero.
Boat speed was .5 knots, all of it attributable to the steady southbound near shore current which affects much of southern North America.
Patiently we bobbed in the ocean enjoying the tremendous view - nothing in sight in any direction. How else do you wait when there is nothing you can do. Bobbing is much more pleasant without a six foot wave pounding your boat every six seconds. Or we presume it would be.
Thirty minutes and we realized we would have to use the other sail we keep in reserve: our trusty diesel.
We reversed our work on the gennaker, stowed all the loose gear and cranked up the Beta.
Now we were going too fast to make Brunswick after dark (it is not healthy for a diesel to be run at low speed or under light load for very long) so we looked at the charts, closed our eyes and pointed.
St. Augustine it was. Just far enough. We arrived for the 9 a.m. opening of the Bridge of Lions.
Our dilemma now is what to do next. We are leaving Meredith at Green Cove Springs which is North of St. Augustine so we will backtrack to Jacksonville and up the St. Johns River. Enroute we will likely extend our Northerly venture to include a day at Fernandina Beach and a d
lengthy lavover at St. Marys, Ga over the Thanksgiving break.
November 15, 2009
Sitting out five days of rain in Beaufort left us a bit eager to put in some distance. When the remnants of Ida finally departed taking with them the cold and the rain it was time for Meredith to Head 'Em Up and Move 'Em Out.
This was too bad as we had anticipated enjoying Beaufort, always a favoured stop, for a few days and even getting some labour intensive work done.
Lady's Island Bridge which separates Factory Creek from downtown Beaufort opens at 7 a.m. and not again until 9 a.m. Eager travellers were up and off by 7, not so Meredith. Our intention was to slip out of the waterway at Royal Island Sound and run outside to St. Simon Sound where we would reconnect with the ICW and anchor in the Fredericka River. We look forward to a day or two in the Fredericka River, just North of Brunswick GA.
Winds were forecast light - 15 knots out of the North West declining to 10 knots over the afternoon. Waves were to be 2 - 4 feet. It is a short trip Beaufort to Brunswick, not more than 24 hours and you have to keep your speed down to stretch it to this. The reason you want to keep your speed down is so you do not arrive at St. Simon Sound in the dark - never a good time to try to enter an unknown inlet from the ocean. Arriving in the dark meant we would have to waste turning circles in the black water from our time of arrival until daylight.
A light wind gave us a slow speed and with a late departure we calculated we were in good order to make Brunswick GA in daylight.
Tide was with us as we ran the section of the Beaufort River from Beaufort to the Sound at 8 to 10 knots. You begin to get an idea of the effect of tides - we set the throttle to an engine speed that should have delivered 6 knots and we sat back and enjoyed 8 to 10.
Getting into the Atlantic we started with a nice 13 knot breeze from the starboard quarter driving us along at an acceptable 4.2 knots. The waves were magnificent - 6 feet not four but travelling on a six second period - nice long slow waves pushing us along. Sadly the waves were off the port quarter, nearly the port beam.
Still all was looking great for an afternoon of comfortable sailing, just what we wanted to check out our new headsail.
As the day wore on the wind did not fall so much as collapse. When the actual wind hit 7 knots we hauled in the headsail and I set up the gennaker. Gennakers are special very large very lightweight sails designed for light wind. Slightly easier to sail than a spinnaker the gennaker is still a pain to set up. So what else do you have to do when you are 1/4 of the way done a 24 hour sail? Quit your bitching.
Just as I finished tying the after guy on the whisker pole (used to hold the sail out as far as possible to catch wind) the wind finished its decline. It had to. It had hit zero.
Boat speed was .5 knots, all of it attributable to the steady southbound near shore current which affects much of southern North America.
Patiently we bobbed in the ocean enjoying the tremendous view - nothing in sight in any direction. How else do you wait when there is nothing you can do. Bobbing is much more pleasant without a six foot wave pounding your boat every six seconds. Or we presume it would be.
Thirty minutes and we realized we would have to use the other sail we keep in reserve: our trusty diesel.
We reversed our work on the gennaker, stowed all the loose gear and cranked up the Beta.
Now we were going too fast to make Brunswick after dark (it is not healthy for a diesel to be run at low speed or under light load for very long) so we looked at the charts, closed our eyes and pointed.
St. Augustine it was. Just far enough. We arrived for the 9 a.m. opening of the Bridge of Lions.
Our dilemma now is what to do next. We are leaving Meredith at Green Cove Springs which is North of St. Augustine so we will backtrack to Jacksonville and up the St. Johns River. Enroute we will likely extend our Northerly venture to include a day at Fernandina Beach and a d
lengthy lavover at St. Marys, Ga over the Thanksgiving break.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I'm Only Happy When It Rains
Beaufort, SC
November 12, 2009
On a coastal cruise the nice thing about rain is that it is not often accompanied by strong wind. I am talking about rain here not spittle blown at gale force off the top of waves whether fore or aft.
Anchored in Factory Creek just outside of downtown Beaufort we have been pinned aboard Meredith by unrelenting precipitation, fallout from former weather threat Ida. No safety issues here just a desire to remain dry. We were however thankful that we were not traveling the waterway in the constant and fairly cool gravity driven H2O.
All that changed last night when the rain stopped.
The wind picked up. Strong wind running 20 knots before dark. The velocity only increased with the deepening evening gloom. Ever notice how deepening gloom intensifies the sensation of imminent doom.
It was a long night for the Budget Committee. All night she sat anchor watch in the cold blowing dark. She remembers the 1 night in 5 years of cruising that we dragged. This singular occasion cemented in her mind our frailty and our exposure to disaster in the face of wind while at anchor. My woman does not sleep if the wind is up.
Last night she sat alone.
I remember the 1 night in 5 years of cruising that we dragged. I figure if we did it right 1500 times and only missed one night then the odds are with me. My sleep is rarely impaired by application of wind. Add a quirky anchor set before the wind or a little wave action and you have my attention.
If you do not perceive a threat to be real you are poorly armed to do battle.
Last night I found myself a pacifist.
Not being totally without feeling I would periodically rise from my slumber and offer to "take a watch". This would allow my beloved to catch an hour or two of much needed rest. The Budget Committee refused throughout the night, suspicious that the instant she found sleep in the nice warm berth I would fall asleep on the settee.
The Budget Committee knows me too well.
November 12, 2009
On a coastal cruise the nice thing about rain is that it is not often accompanied by strong wind. I am talking about rain here not spittle blown at gale force off the top of waves whether fore or aft.
Anchored in Factory Creek just outside of downtown Beaufort we have been pinned aboard Meredith by unrelenting precipitation, fallout from former weather threat Ida. No safety issues here just a desire to remain dry. We were however thankful that we were not traveling the waterway in the constant and fairly cool gravity driven H2O.
All that changed last night when the rain stopped.
The wind picked up. Strong wind running 20 knots before dark. The velocity only increased with the deepening evening gloom. Ever notice how deepening gloom intensifies the sensation of imminent doom.
It was a long night for the Budget Committee. All night she sat anchor watch in the cold blowing dark. She remembers the 1 night in 5 years of cruising that we dragged. This singular occasion cemented in her mind our frailty and our exposure to disaster in the face of wind while at anchor. My woman does not sleep if the wind is up.
Last night she sat alone.
I remember the 1 night in 5 years of cruising that we dragged. I figure if we did it right 1500 times and only missed one night then the odds are with me. My sleep is rarely impaired by application of wind. Add a quirky anchor set before the wind or a little wave action and you have my attention.
If you do not perceive a threat to be real you are poorly armed to do battle.
Last night I found myself a pacifist.
Not being totally without feeling I would periodically rise from my slumber and offer to "take a watch". This would allow my beloved to catch an hour or two of much needed rest. The Budget Committee refused throughout the night, suspicious that the instant she found sleep in the nice warm berth I would fall asleep on the settee.
The Budget Committee knows me too well.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
Beaufort SC
November 11, 2009
THE RAIN BANGED reveille on the forward hatch above Meredith at five o'clock as always...
The low pressure area formerly known as Tropical Depression Ida did not leave cleanly. In its wake has been 2 1/2 days of solid overcast skies with "90% POP". Naturally this is the forecast that NOAA gets right.
Rain continued in hard patches through our first night, through much of yesterday afternoon and all of last night. We had a nice break during the early day yesterday.
A nice day meant boat work. Laundry was taken ashore and tended to while we enjoyed breakfast at the Huddle House restaurant and then shopping at the Grayco Hardware.
Back at the boat the Budget Committee tore apart the forward berth and went to work eliminating 100 days of accumulated dust from cushions and duvet. Meanwhile I tore down the windlass, gave its myriad parts a good fresh water bath, cleaned about 5 lbs of accumulated grease and dirt from the creases and crevasses, regreased and reassembled everything.
Only the renewed rainfall saved me from tackling the main halyard winch and the cockpit winches which are due for the same maintenance teardown. Connie looks forward to polishing the stainless and removing the brown spots which just refuse to stop growing on our pulpit and pushpit.
On our first night at anchor in Factory Creek we watched in a downpour as the rain overwhelmed the battery driven bilge pump on the derelict hull moored behind Meredith. Maybe the battery just died. Anyway night before last the derelict sunk to the gunwales.
As I finished rebuilding the windlass the owner of this newest member of the submarine fleet arrived. He was dressed for work wearing white shrimp boots, a torn old lumberjack shirt, a pony tail and a beard that reached halfway down his chest.
He went to work in his aluminum boat trying to push his sunken vessel out of the channel and into a neighbouring slough. Here it would be supported during the next low tide (tides here are 8 feet +/-). In this way he explained, the hull would beach and drain on the falling tide and he could plug the leaks. Forward progress of the hulk was slow, almost nonexistent. This seemed consistent with the prior history of this hull.
When I finished with the windlass I offered my 10hp dinghy to supplement the 15 attached to his aluminum skiff. The poor man was having a great deal of difficulty getting his hull to move. I assumed this was because it was resting on the bottom but, no, in fact the man had anchored his boat at the bow and had not loosened the rode before attempting to motor ahead. His anchor held. The boat went nowhere.
Once the rode was loosened the two of us deftly tugged the flotsom into the empty slough. As we worked the man talked.
"There is no loss here" he explained. "I was given this boat and it was sunk then. I know boats and this boat will be a fine vessel again one day". He then launched into a lengthy lecture on his family history.
Between bursts of power to respective outboards as we worked the errant hull into its mud drydock I was treated to a full history of the south bank of Factory Creek. This land had, in more prosperous times, been owned by the family of the man I was working with. His grandfather owned the land that now housed the marina and his father ran a fish processing plant and railway on the land beside that.
Finally the boat was satisfactorily positioned. The rain started up again in earnest and I made my apologies and headed home.
When I left the owner, a witty ponytailed long bearded fellow of 60 years or so, was sitting in the pilot house of his vessel in the pouring rain waiting for lower tide so he could "plug the sink." He explained: "It's under water right now and I can't get the water to stop coming in".
Arriving back at Meredith Connie and I went below to wait out the rain. My new acquaintance, a witty ponytailed long bearded fellow of 60 years or so, was sitting alone in the pilot house of his vessel in the pouring rain waiting for lower tide. He had to "plug the sink." he explained. "It's under water right now and I can't get the water to stop coming in".
We did not re emerge until this morning. This is what we saw:
Victory
Bobbing spiffily in the water behind us, back on its mooring ball, was the hulk. None the worse for its experience. I am going to suggest its owner name it "Destry".
This guy's family fortune had suffered but not its spirit. If rugged individualism and sheer stick to itiveness means anything in this world that old guy will recover the hull and restore it and his family honour to full lustre.
If only there were enough years left for me to see the day.
November 11, 2009
THE RAIN BANGED reveille on the forward hatch above Meredith at five o'clock as always...
The low pressure area formerly known as Tropical Depression Ida did not leave cleanly. In its wake has been 2 1/2 days of solid overcast skies with "90% POP". Naturally this is the forecast that NOAA gets right.
Rain continued in hard patches through our first night, through much of yesterday afternoon and all of last night. We had a nice break during the early day yesterday.
A nice day meant boat work. Laundry was taken ashore and tended to while we enjoyed breakfast at the Huddle House restaurant and then shopping at the Grayco Hardware.
Back at the boat the Budget Committee tore apart the forward berth and went to work eliminating 100 days of accumulated dust from cushions and duvet. Meanwhile I tore down the windlass, gave its myriad parts a good fresh water bath, cleaned about 5 lbs of accumulated grease and dirt from the creases and crevasses, regreased and reassembled everything.
Only the renewed rainfall saved me from tackling the main halyard winch and the cockpit winches which are due for the same maintenance teardown. Connie looks forward to polishing the stainless and removing the brown spots which just refuse to stop growing on our pulpit and pushpit.
On our first night at anchor in Factory Creek we watched in a downpour as the rain overwhelmed the battery driven bilge pump on the derelict hull moored behind Meredith. Maybe the battery just died. Anyway night before last the derelict sunk to the gunwales.
As I finished rebuilding the windlass the owner of this newest member of the submarine fleet arrived. He was dressed for work wearing white shrimp boots, a torn old lumberjack shirt, a pony tail and a beard that reached halfway down his chest.
He went to work in his aluminum boat trying to push his sunken vessel out of the channel and into a neighbouring slough. Here it would be supported during the next low tide (tides here are 8 feet +/-). In this way he explained, the hull would beach and drain on the falling tide and he could plug the leaks. Forward progress of the hulk was slow, almost nonexistent. This seemed consistent with the prior history of this hull.
When I finished with the windlass I offered my 10hp dinghy to supplement the 15 attached to his aluminum skiff. The poor man was having a great deal of difficulty getting his hull to move. I assumed this was because it was resting on the bottom but, no, in fact the man had anchored his boat at the bow and had not loosened the rode before attempting to motor ahead. His anchor held. The boat went nowhere.
Once the rode was loosened the two of us deftly tugged the flotsom into the empty slough. As we worked the man talked.
"There is no loss here" he explained. "I was given this boat and it was sunk then. I know boats and this boat will be a fine vessel again one day". He then launched into a lengthy lecture on his family history.
Between bursts of power to respective outboards as we worked the errant hull into its mud drydock I was treated to a full history of the south bank of Factory Creek. This land had, in more prosperous times, been owned by the family of the man I was working with. His grandfather owned the land that now housed the marina and his father ran a fish processing plant and railway on the land beside that.
Finally the boat was satisfactorily positioned. The rain started up again in earnest and I made my apologies and headed home.
When I left the owner, a witty ponytailed long bearded fellow of 60 years or so, was sitting in the pilot house of his vessel in the pouring rain waiting for lower tide so he could "plug the sink." He explained: "It's under water right now and I can't get the water to stop coming in".
Arriving back at Meredith Connie and I went below to wait out the rain. My new acquaintance, a witty ponytailed long bearded fellow of 60 years or so, was sitting alone in the pilot house of his vessel in the pouring rain waiting for lower tide. He had to "plug the sink." he explained. "It's under water right now and I can't get the water to stop coming in".
We did not re emerge until this morning. This is what we saw:
VictoryBobbing spiffily in the water behind us, back on its mooring ball, was the hulk. None the worse for its experience. I am going to suggest its owner name it "Destry".
This guy's family fortune had suffered but not its spirit. If rugged individualism and sheer stick to itiveness means anything in this world that old guy will recover the hull and restore it and his family honour to full lustre.
If only there were enough years left for me to see the day.
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