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New Boat 4 Sled
- Thread starter sleddog
- Start date
Philpott
Cal 2-27 Dura Mater
Glacier Bay, Alaska, 5130 square miles, has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site and National Park since 1980, accessible only by boat (cruise ship, yacht, raft or kayak) or by plane. Likely one of the most difficult National Parks to visit, except by cruise ship, lack of access has kept this wondrous part of the World relatively undeveloped: The forests surrounding the mountain peaks have never been logged. Mining and commercial fishing in Glacier Bay is banned. Hunting is only allowed outside the Park. The high mountains, including spectacular Mt. Fairweather at 15,325', are rarely climbed. Mt. Fairweather, first sighted and named by Capt. Cook in 1778, is one of the world's highest coastal mountains, only 12 miles from the Pacific Ocean, and marks the northern boundary of Glacier Bay National Park.
I'd always dreamed of sailing my Wylie 27 custom sloop WILDFLOWER to historical and legendary Glacier Bay, explored by John Muir in 1874, when the Bay was still filled for much of its length by glacier ice. My multiple attempts to reach Glacier Bay via the narrow channels of the Inside Passage fell short, as WILDFLOWER's older 4 hp engine wasn't up to the task, and the north end of Vancouver Island was the furthest north we reached.
In 1999, temporarily abandoning the route up the Inside Passage, I made the decision to sail WILDFLOWER offshore, northwest into the Pacific, until I could tack to port and lay Glacier Bay, at latitude 59 degrees North, 137 degrees West, or about 1,700 miles northwest of my homeport of Santa Cruz. This challenge didn't work either. Prevailing headwinds from the northwest ultimately drove WILDFLOWER south, and we ended up 300 miles further south than when we set out, ultimately anchoring in the Channel Islands of Southern California.
As H.W. Tilman once wrote, "There is little point of setting out for a place that one is certain to reach." A noble expression for sure for those who followed Tilman. And, by default, a fact of life if you sail in small boats.
Finally, in 2004, with a new Yanmar 7 hp engine, WILDFLOWER and I got up a head of steam, departing Anacortes, WA, in early May, and via the Inside Passage, ultimately arrived at the confluence of Margerie and Grand Pacific Glaciers, at the head of Glacier Bay, on the Summer Solstice, June 20th, 2004.
Glacier Bay was so amazing I vowed to return with friends, which we did in 2010 by plane from Juneau. Unfortunately, the engines on the Glacier Bay catamaran tour boat were broken, and we never got out of Bartlett Cove, where Glacier Bay's only hotel sits, the Glacier Bay Lodge, as well as the ranger station.
This year, with friends owning the 75', 1932, wooden, converted research motor vessel CATALYST, we booked passage in one of 6 cabins for a 10 day voyage of exploration into Glacier Bay in early May. It was a good decision. The surrounding mountains were snow capped as if the hand of God had spread whipped cream, sometimes right down to sea level.
The animals, including brown (grizzly) and black bears, were recently coming out of hibernation and we saw many from the deck of CATALYST, including a memorable hour watching from kayaks as a brown bear on the nearby beach turned over dozens of large rocks (50-100 pounds) in search of food. Mr. Bear paid us no mind as we drifted about 75' away, and answered the proverbial question of "does the bear poop in the woods?"... Nope, we confirmed he does his business on the beach.
Griz on small island. He swam out there.
CATALYST's crew of 4 included Sarah, a professional naturalist and kayaker. Sarah was often first to identify what we were looking at, especially the smaller plants and mosses. After an hour of looking under grounded bergy bits, Sarah even found and showed us ice worms, small, eyeless, black worms that live inside glacier ice, possibly by having blood of anti-freeze. http://www.damninteresting.com/the-ice-worm-cometh/
With a dozen pair of binoculars at hand, and Sarah's guidance, we met several hundred species of birds, mammals, plants, fish, and intertidal life in our walks on shore, kayaking, and just viewing from CATALYST's foredeck, bridge, salon dining table, and fantail. Most notable were the orcas, Dall porpoise, and humpback whales, moose, bald eagles, loons, kittiwakes, rock ptarmigans, and hummingbirds. Mountain goats in white fur coats wandered fearlessly on almost vertical glacier polished cliffs while grazing on small patches of grass and yellow flowers. We saw a cute porcupine up close who showed no fear. Several marmots. River otters. A big success story since my visit with WILDFLOWER in 2004 were the sea otters who, in the last 12 years, have now made Glacier Bay home. We saw dozens, if not hundreds, of sea otters, including many mothers with babies lying comfortably on their chests as they swam on their backs.
As the dark hulled Holland/America cruise ship VOLENDAM passed in the distance, we wondered how a thousand passengers, with only 6 hours in Glacier Bay and going 20 knots, could see any of this activity from 10 stories up. We did see people circling the funnel on waterslides before dropping into the swimming pool. But very few elsewhere aboard. We imagined sea otters must look like a raisins in the distance, and orcas might be passed without note.
Of course the stars of the show were the glaciers and their offspring, the icebergs, bergy bits, and brash ice. There are 15 glaciers in Glacier Bay, of which 5 are tidewater, meaning giant pieces of ice from the glacier's terminus calve into the bay below. We visited 4 tidewater glaciers: Reid, Lamplugh, McBride and Margerie. At Margerie Glacier, at the very head of Glacier Bay, giant explosions and cracks, about every 5 minutes, would signal massive pieces of ice breaking off into the water below.
Margerie Glacier, 250 feet high.
Sometimes, a glacier breaks off under water, in which case a giant berg surfaces unexpectedly. One does not want to be in the vicinity when such a "Poseiden" appears. We spent a sunny, blue sky morning drifting about 300 yards offshore from the Margerie Glacier face. And didn't see any Poseidens.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGDSODCqEB4
For me, and I think everyone aboard, the most special sighting of the trip were wolves. Wolves are rarely seen, and still hunted outside the Park. At our second anchorage, we had a wolf cruising the beach, not 25 yards astern for about 15 minutes. The next day we spotted a wolf pack on the shore, including one wolf silhouetted on a ridge, and heard another howling. Then, the final evening in Glacier Bay, as we finished dinner, a magnificent wolf appeared. Sarah, our naturalist, had never seen anything like it in 20 years. And neither had we. Not only was this wolf bigger than any of the wolves we'd seen previously, but it had a black mane, a cinnamon body, and silver rump.
I heard several shipmates comment "a trip of a lifetime." I would not disagree.
As Humphrey Bogart said to Ingrid Bergman in the last scene of Casablanca, "We'll always have Glacier Bay..."
Thanks to Ann C. who took the accompanying photos on her Android smart phone.
To answer several questions I've been asked:
No, there were no insects at this time of Spring. It was apparently still too early for winged critters.
M/V CATALYST makes about 7.9 knots with her original Washington 6 cylinder diesel clicking over at 400 RPM. The engine starts by compressed air, and has never been out of the boat in 84 years, since her launch in 1932. A really cool piece of machinery: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVXA2-v_9yE
"Have the glaciers receded?" Since John Muir's time of 150 years ago, the glaciers have receded dramatically, almost 40 miles in places. My amateur observations tell me, since my visit in 2004, 12 years ago, aboard WILDFLOWER, Reid Glacier looked to have receded about 200 feet and thinned by 50-75 feet. Lamplugh Glacier looked to be stable, perhaps thinning. McBride Glacier had retreated significantly, about a mile. Margerie, a hanging glacier, had definitely thinned, but still magnificent about 250 feet high above waterline. A further discussion of Glacier Bay's glaciers can be found here: http://www.nationalparkstraveler.co...ve/glacier-bay-national-parks-glaciers-primer
Reid Glacier Terminus
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Sleddog_sis
Sailor & former racer
This is just beautiful --in word and photo. Wow!! Thanks Skip!
The first time I lost my boat, WILDFLOWER, the 27' custom cruiser I'd built at Wylie Design in 1975, was after the 1978 SHTP. WILDFLOWER, "Fleur" for short, was engineless in those days and I'd sailed her upwind from Hanalei Bay, across the Kauai Channel to Haleiwa, on the North Shore of Oahu. There I picked up good friend, Capt. Bob, a Matson captain and long time sailing friend from IMPROBABLE days. Bob and I sailed WF up the north and east shore of Oahu, crossed the Molokai Channel, then beat up the lee side of Molokai to arrive at Lahaina in time to crew on the 50' racing sloop CHECKMATE in the Sauza Cup.
From Lahaina I left to sail WF home to Santa Cruz. After 24 hours beating into the teeth of fresh trades, with my stomach in knots, I bailed and ran back to cruise the north shore of Molokai in consort with SHTP winner Norton Smith, onboard his SC-27 SOLITAIRE. Norton and I then sailed our boats back across the Molokai Channel to Kaneohe Yacht Club. At KYC, joined by another friend, Gary on his Trekka 21 TAREMA, the three of us, each singlehanded, cruised in company to Waimea Bay, and eventually to Pokai Bay, Barber's Point, and to the AlaWai at Honolulu.
Norton and I had a vague offer of the use of a flatbed trailer to ship our boats from Hono back to the Mainland. The trailer magically materialized, and we built cradles to fit our boats on the flatbed. We then hauled our boats at AlaWai Shipyard and positioned them on the trailer, bow to bow and overlapping. Our boats on the flatbed were then delivered to the Matson yard at Sand Island, paperwork was completed, and the boats were promised to be in Oakland a week later for pickup.
At the end of August, a day after SOLITAIRE and WILDFLOWER were scheduled in Oakland, I called Matson and inquired when I could pick up our boats. Their answer surprised me: "We have no record of your boats. We do not have them."
"Uh, oh," I thought. "What to do now?" Our boats are missing
I hopped in a borrowed truck and drove to the Matson Terminal in Oakland, then hiked up 5 floors to the shipping manager's office at the top of the building. While waiting outside the office for an interview, I peered around the Matson yard to see if I could see our boats anywhere. Surprise, they were very close, right outside the window of the Matson building. After 15 minutes of waiting, I was granted an audience with the shipping manager, who confirmed Matson had no record of our boats, and emphatically did not have them. I showed her my paperwork, but this had no effect, and she clearly wanted to leave her office for lunch. At this point, I sat down on her desk, pointed the boats on the flatbed trailer just outside her window, and said, "I'll be here when you get back."
On her return from lunch, the shipping manager was not pleased to find me still sitting on her desk 45 minutes later. I declined to move until she picked up her phone and called somewhere below. Shortly, a big black dude in overalls, driving a forklift and carrying a long measurement pole with one foot spaced black and white intervals, drove out from the shade and up to our boats on the flatbed. Apparently it was the forklift driver's job to measure the cube of the cargo.
I moved off the lady's desk and watched bemusedly. The measurement guy couldn't figure out what he was looking at, apparently two boats, one white, one blue, on the same trailer. But where did the boats begin and end? And how would he ever climb up on the flatbed to measure the width? I think the fellow did the best he could with his black and white pole, not realizing the boats had cabins and were higher than they looked. He scribbled some numbers on a piece of paper, and called the shipping manager lady. She performed some calculations on her adding machine, and said, "that will be $1,600." I quickly wrote a check to Matson, ran downstairs, hooked the truck to the flatbed with the boats, and got the whole package the hell out of there before someone changed their mind.
That night we worked until midnight scrubbing the coral off SOLITAIRE's bottom, then at 2 a.m. set off for Lake Tahoe. Being tired puppies, we raced the next day in the SC-27 National Championships at Lake Tahoe, but forgot our #1 jib in the car. But that's another story.
From Lahaina I left to sail WF home to Santa Cruz. After 24 hours beating into the teeth of fresh trades, with my stomach in knots, I bailed and ran back to cruise the north shore of Molokai in consort with SHTP winner Norton Smith, onboard his SC-27 SOLITAIRE. Norton and I then sailed our boats back across the Molokai Channel to Kaneohe Yacht Club. At KYC, joined by another friend, Gary on his Trekka 21 TAREMA, the three of us, each singlehanded, cruised in company to Waimea Bay, and eventually to Pokai Bay, Barber's Point, and to the AlaWai at Honolulu.
Norton and I had a vague offer of the use of a flatbed trailer to ship our boats from Hono back to the Mainland. The trailer magically materialized, and we built cradles to fit our boats on the flatbed. We then hauled our boats at AlaWai Shipyard and positioned them on the trailer, bow to bow and overlapping. Our boats on the flatbed were then delivered to the Matson yard at Sand Island, paperwork was completed, and the boats were promised to be in Oakland a week later for pickup.
At the end of August, a day after SOLITAIRE and WILDFLOWER were scheduled in Oakland, I called Matson and inquired when I could pick up our boats. Their answer surprised me: "We have no record of your boats. We do not have them."
"Uh, oh," I thought. "What to do now?" Our boats are missing
I hopped in a borrowed truck and drove to the Matson Terminal in Oakland, then hiked up 5 floors to the shipping manager's office at the top of the building. While waiting outside the office for an interview, I peered around the Matson yard to see if I could see our boats anywhere. Surprise, they were very close, right outside the window of the Matson building. After 15 minutes of waiting, I was granted an audience with the shipping manager, who confirmed Matson had no record of our boats, and emphatically did not have them. I showed her my paperwork, but this had no effect, and she clearly wanted to leave her office for lunch. At this point, I sat down on her desk, pointed the boats on the flatbed trailer just outside her window, and said, "I'll be here when you get back."
On her return from lunch, the shipping manager was not pleased to find me still sitting on her desk 45 minutes later. I declined to move until she picked up her phone and called somewhere below. Shortly, a big black dude in overalls, driving a forklift and carrying a long measurement pole with one foot spaced black and white intervals, drove out from the shade and up to our boats on the flatbed. Apparently it was the forklift driver's job to measure the cube of the cargo.
I moved off the lady's desk and watched bemusedly. The measurement guy couldn't figure out what he was looking at, apparently two boats, one white, one blue, on the same trailer. But where did the boats begin and end? And how would he ever climb up on the flatbed to measure the width? I think the fellow did the best he could with his black and white pole, not realizing the boats had cabins and were higher than they looked. He scribbled some numbers on a piece of paper, and called the shipping manager lady. She performed some calculations on her adding machine, and said, "that will be $1,600." I quickly wrote a check to Matson, ran downstairs, hooked the truck to the flatbed with the boats, and got the whole package the hell out of there before someone changed their mind.
That night we worked until midnight scrubbing the coral off SOLITAIRE's bottom, then at 2 a.m. set off for Lake Tahoe. Being tired puppies, we raced the next day in the SC-27 National Championships at Lake Tahoe, but forgot our #1 jib in the car. But that's another story.
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We had a similar experience with Matson. In 1987 Yvonne and I loaded everything we owned into a container and shipped it and my Frog 21 to Oahu.
When we arrived 2 weeks later they wouldn't release our stuff and then said they could NOT find it. I had a friend that worked for Matson tell me how to locate it and where to look, which we did.
They still would not release it, so we went to the top of the tower, with our sleeping bags got into the managers reception area and told them we were not going to leave until we had our stuff.
A couple hours later they found our paper work, and we got our container and boat released to the trucker.
When we arrived 2 weeks later they wouldn't release our stuff and then said they could NOT find it. I had a friend that worked for Matson tell me how to locate it and where to look, which we did.
They still would not release it, so we went to the top of the tower, with our sleeping bags got into the managers reception area and told them we were not going to leave until we had our stuff.
A couple hours later they found our paper work, and we got our container and boat released to the trucker.
Philpott
Cal 2-27 Dura Mater
I've heard stories about the assertive nature of the surfers in Santa Cruz, but now that I hear about you all, I'm thinking it is something in the water.
On our recent visit to Glacier Bay aboard M/V CATALYST, we stopped at the Tlingit ("Clink-It") community of Hoonah, on Chichagof Island, 30 miles across Icy Straits from Glacier Bay. Glacier Bay was the ancestral home of the Tlingit tribe, until advancing glacial ice drove these Native Americans to new hunting grounds.
The dugout canoe was, and is the primary mode of transportation for the Tlingit, giving access by water to everything from trading with other villages, to fishing, and hunting sea mammals such as whales. The Tlingit made different types of canoes depending on their function. Some were 40-60 feet long, and could hold as many as 60 people. Large ocean going canoes could hold even more, up to 100 people. Canoes were sometimes joined together with red cedar planks, creating a catamaran or even a trimaran to carry extra cargo or ceremonial dancers.
With water based transportation using dugout canoes, distances were measured by how far a canoe could travel in a day, usually about 40 miles There remains oral tradition that certain canoes traveled as far as Hawaii and Asia to trade.
The Tlingit canoes, as well as being paddled, were often propelled by square shaped sails. In rough waters, the Tlingit would tie inflated seal bladders to the outside of the hull to assist in stability. The first Europeans in this area were amazed at the carrying capacity and beautiful construction of the Tlingit canoes.
At Hoonah we were fortunate to observe two 35 foot Tlingit canoes under construction. First, a large, straight-grained spruce log was procured, about 3 feet in diameter. At Hoonah, I counted more than 200 annular growth rings in one log, destined to become a future dugout canoe.
The outside of the canoe log is then shaped, using only very sharp adzes made from truck springs. When the external shaping is complete, the village population assembles, and the canoe-to-be is rolled over. The log is then hollowed out using hand tools. The cavity of the hollowed out log is filled with water and hot stones and crosspieces would then spread the softening steamed walls of the canoe. These crosspieces would gradually be replaced by longer ones in order to obtain the correct shape and beam of the hollowed log, often as much as 6 feet.
Each Tlingit canoe is seen as a living, breathing, spiritual entity. After the hollowing and shaping of the canoe, the long projecting bow and high, spur-shaped stern pieces are added. The bow and sterns of Tlinglit canoes are carefully carved to display clan and tribal crests, the figures outlined in black and then filled in with red, yellow, and green, similar to totem poles. Tlingit canoes were then named, usually after the Sun, Moon, Earth, Island, Shaman, Whale, Otter, Eagle, or Raven.
It takes as much as 6 months to build a 30 foot Tlingit canoe. The ones we saw were beautiful, and looked seaworthy. They would have to be, to traverse the nearby and often rough Icy Straits
Over the past decade there has been a revitalization of traditional canoe building among the Tlingit and the Northwest Coast Nations, and it was fun to see children as young as 8 excited about paddling a canoe with their own personal paddle.
The dugout canoe was, and is the primary mode of transportation for the Tlingit, giving access by water to everything from trading with other villages, to fishing, and hunting sea mammals such as whales. The Tlingit made different types of canoes depending on their function. Some were 40-60 feet long, and could hold as many as 60 people. Large ocean going canoes could hold even more, up to 100 people. Canoes were sometimes joined together with red cedar planks, creating a catamaran or even a trimaran to carry extra cargo or ceremonial dancers.
With water based transportation using dugout canoes, distances were measured by how far a canoe could travel in a day, usually about 40 miles There remains oral tradition that certain canoes traveled as far as Hawaii and Asia to trade.
The Tlingit canoes, as well as being paddled, were often propelled by square shaped sails. In rough waters, the Tlingit would tie inflated seal bladders to the outside of the hull to assist in stability. The first Europeans in this area were amazed at the carrying capacity and beautiful construction of the Tlingit canoes.
At Hoonah we were fortunate to observe two 35 foot Tlingit canoes under construction. First, a large, straight-grained spruce log was procured, about 3 feet in diameter. At Hoonah, I counted more than 200 annular growth rings in one log, destined to become a future dugout canoe.
The outside of the canoe log is then shaped, using only very sharp adzes made from truck springs. When the external shaping is complete, the village population assembles, and the canoe-to-be is rolled over. The log is then hollowed out using hand tools. The cavity of the hollowed out log is filled with water and hot stones and crosspieces would then spread the softening steamed walls of the canoe. These crosspieces would gradually be replaced by longer ones in order to obtain the correct shape and beam of the hollowed log, often as much as 6 feet.
Each Tlingit canoe is seen as a living, breathing, spiritual entity. After the hollowing and shaping of the canoe, the long projecting bow and high, spur-shaped stern pieces are added. The bow and sterns of Tlinglit canoes are carefully carved to display clan and tribal crests, the figures outlined in black and then filled in with red, yellow, and green, similar to totem poles. Tlingit canoes were then named, usually after the Sun, Moon, Earth, Island, Shaman, Whale, Otter, Eagle, or Raven.
It takes as much as 6 months to build a 30 foot Tlingit canoe. The ones we saw were beautiful, and looked seaworthy. They would have to be, to traverse the nearby and often rough Icy Straits
Over the past decade there has been a revitalization of traditional canoe building among the Tlingit and the Northwest Coast Nations, and it was fun to see children as young as 8 excited about paddling a canoe with their own personal paddle.
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A brief word from our sponsor:
That cranky, cynical, American writer, Mark Twain, loved cats, keeping up to 19 at a time. Twain would play pool with one of his favorite kittens. The young kitty would be "crammed snugly in a corner pocket" of the pool table, where it would periodically emerge and swat an approaching ball, "spoiling many a shot."
Wrote Twain, "And when it came to cats and humans, cats were the standard that humanity needed to attain, because “If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat.” Even though no one could hope to reach this ideal, that doesn’t mean we’re all bad. Twain wrote: “When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade, without further introduction.”
I once knew a cat, "Snowball," who raced two Pacific Cups and return deliveries onboard EL TIBURON. The boat was rigged most comfortably in all manner for Snowball, who napped in the top drawer, in amongst the socks, or on deck, inside the dodger.
El TIBURON's DH crew practiced cat overboards. This technique, perhaps questionable to some, and certainly not taught at SAS seminars, involved one of the crew jumping over after the cat.
That cranky, cynical, American writer, Mark Twain, loved cats, keeping up to 19 at a time. Twain would play pool with one of his favorite kittens. The young kitty would be "crammed snugly in a corner pocket" of the pool table, where it would periodically emerge and swat an approaching ball, "spoiling many a shot."
Wrote Twain, "And when it came to cats and humans, cats were the standard that humanity needed to attain, because “If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat.” Even though no one could hope to reach this ideal, that doesn’t mean we’re all bad. Twain wrote: “When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade, without further introduction.”
I once knew a cat, "Snowball," who raced two Pacific Cups and return deliveries onboard EL TIBURON. The boat was rigged most comfortably in all manner for Snowball, who napped in the top drawer, in amongst the socks, or on deck, inside the dodger.
El TIBURON's DH crew practiced cat overboards. This technique, perhaps questionable to some, and certainly not taught at SAS seminars, involved one of the crew jumping over after the cat.
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Sustaining injury when sailing offshore, by all measure, is to be avoided. There are dozens of ways to get hurt, some highly unusual. Below is an incomplete list of potential harmful situations to be avoided.
1) Descending a companionway ladder, especially with damp footwear or wet step treads, can cause an injurious slip. Best avoidance technique is to face the ladder when descending, and hold on with both hands.
2) Burns offshore are common, especially when cooking in the galley. When working around hot food or drink, wear clothing protection and have pot holders handy. That unanticipated wave always seems to tip the boat when making morning coffee. Also, when doing sail handling on deck, turning off the stove beforehand may save burning a hole in a freshly doused spinnaker.
3) Rope burns take a long time to heal, and are particularly disabling. Anticipate how much strain is on a halyard or sheet winch, keep at least 2 wraps on the winch, and wear gloves.
4) Falling down a foredeck hatch, breaking ribs, is a common injury. When working on the foredeck, with sails in the area, it's always a good idea to close any hatches beforehand.
5) Cuts are always happening unexpectedly. Working with knives is hazardous duty. Untaped cotter pins, engine repairs, splinters, anything sharp can and will draw blood.
6) Personal hygiene, especially butt rash, is important to attend to when first noticed. A clean galley, sink, and head is paramount. Carrying disinfectant and a general purpose antibiotic to prevent potential spread of infection is recommended.
7) Fingers are always at risk. Two areas to be aware of are a sliding traveler car
when using the main sheet or traveler track as a handhold, and an electric winch. Electric winches can be accidentally engaged or rotate more quickly than expected when fingers are in harm's way.
8) Dehydration is debilitating. Stay in the shade of the sails, an umbrella, bimini, or small awning. Use a plant mist sprayer to create "air conditioning. An electric fan at the head of a bunk will keep things cool below while sleeping. Drinking plenty of water, a gallon a day causes the need to urinate, a good wakeup reminder when off watch. Using a hospital urinal obviates the need to use the head or go on deck. As Brian B points out, even available with glow in the dark tops, so you don't mistake it for the gatorade.
9) Despite best intentions, injuries happen. A well equipped first aid kit and manual can be worth their weight in gold when the time comes for body repair. Don't forget the super glue, good for cuts as well as sail repair.
1) Descending a companionway ladder, especially with damp footwear or wet step treads, can cause an injurious slip. Best avoidance technique is to face the ladder when descending, and hold on with both hands.
2) Burns offshore are common, especially when cooking in the galley. When working around hot food or drink, wear clothing protection and have pot holders handy. That unanticipated wave always seems to tip the boat when making morning coffee. Also, when doing sail handling on deck, turning off the stove beforehand may save burning a hole in a freshly doused spinnaker.
3) Rope burns take a long time to heal, and are particularly disabling. Anticipate how much strain is on a halyard or sheet winch, keep at least 2 wraps on the winch, and wear gloves.
4) Falling down a foredeck hatch, breaking ribs, is a common injury. When working on the foredeck, with sails in the area, it's always a good idea to close any hatches beforehand.
5) Cuts are always happening unexpectedly. Working with knives is hazardous duty. Untaped cotter pins, engine repairs, splinters, anything sharp can and will draw blood.
6) Personal hygiene, especially butt rash, is important to attend to when first noticed. A clean galley, sink, and head is paramount. Carrying disinfectant and a general purpose antibiotic to prevent potential spread of infection is recommended.
7) Fingers are always at risk. Two areas to be aware of are a sliding traveler car
when using the main sheet or traveler track as a handhold, and an electric winch. Electric winches can be accidentally engaged or rotate more quickly than expected when fingers are in harm's way.
8) Dehydration is debilitating. Stay in the shade of the sails, an umbrella, bimini, or small awning. Use a plant mist sprayer to create "air conditioning. An electric fan at the head of a bunk will keep things cool below while sleeping. Drinking plenty of water, a gallon a day causes the need to urinate, a good wakeup reminder when off watch. Using a hospital urinal obviates the need to use the head or go on deck. As Brian B points out, even available with glow in the dark tops, so you don't mistake it for the gatorade.
9) Despite best intentions, injuries happen. A well equipped first aid kit and manual can be worth their weight in gold when the time comes for body repair. Don't forget the super glue, good for cuts as well as sail repair.
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3.5 hours northeast of Capitola, 17 miles east of Auburn, at 2,500' in the Sierra foothills, lies the rural village of Pleasant Hill, home of the Crawfords.
I first met Robert and Jeanne Crawford during the 2008 Singlehanded TransPac Race, in which Robert raced his Cal-20 BLACK FEATHERS. Good people, we became friends, and have stayed in touch over the years.
Robert is a fine craftsman, with multiple talents. One of which is building (and playing) Taiko drums. Taiko drums are not as simple as they may look. All sorts of details have to be dealt with, including initially finding a proper oak wine barrel.
Once the oak barrel is located, the ends are shortened, and the staves removed to be reinforced with Lamello "biscuits," exactly the same construction used in WILDFLOWER's new rudder. The oak barrel is then reassembled, the inside is carved for decoration and lightness, and 32 coats of varnish are added for both looks and protection against wayward drumstick beats.
A tanned cowhide (the "head") is then fitted to both ends of the drum, and precisely tensioned involving powerful jacks, and tacked in place. No nail guns allowed. The new drum owner then stands atop his drum and tests the head. This step may cause anguish, if the cowhide should split, as they can do. Once the drum is complete, which may take weeks, the drum is played so to impart the correct resonance and tone into the drum and head. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0msetgl7TY
Robert building and tuning his Taiko drums is art and craftmanship in motion.
It was fun visiting with Robert and Jeanne, and hearing BLACK FEATHERS continues to sail out of South Beach Marina one weekend a month, most recently completing a lap of the Farallones on the same day as the SSS Singlehand Farallones Race.
I first met Robert and Jeanne Crawford during the 2008 Singlehanded TransPac Race, in which Robert raced his Cal-20 BLACK FEATHERS. Good people, we became friends, and have stayed in touch over the years.
Robert is a fine craftsman, with multiple talents. One of which is building (and playing) Taiko drums. Taiko drums are not as simple as they may look. All sorts of details have to be dealt with, including initially finding a proper oak wine barrel.
Once the oak barrel is located, the ends are shortened, and the staves removed to be reinforced with Lamello "biscuits," exactly the same construction used in WILDFLOWER's new rudder. The oak barrel is then reassembled, the inside is carved for decoration and lightness, and 32 coats of varnish are added for both looks and protection against wayward drumstick beats.
A tanned cowhide (the "head") is then fitted to both ends of the drum, and precisely tensioned involving powerful jacks, and tacked in place. No nail guns allowed. The new drum owner then stands atop his drum and tests the head. This step may cause anguish, if the cowhide should split, as they can do. Once the drum is complete, which may take weeks, the drum is played so to impart the correct resonance and tone into the drum and head. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0msetgl7TY
Robert building and tuning his Taiko drums is art and craftmanship in motion.
It was fun visiting with Robert and Jeanne, and hearing BLACK FEATHERS continues to sail out of South Beach Marina one weekend a month, most recently completing a lap of the Farallones on the same day as the SSS Singlehand Farallones Race.
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The Master Mariners Regatta on San Francisco Bay is always a bang-up affair. This year was no exception, with half a dozen classes, comprising a fleet of 65 oldies, chasing each other from the pursuit start off St. Francis Yacht Club.
With 18 knots of breeze funneling in the Gate, it wasn't long before carnage began. The L-36 PAPOOSE tried to port attack the schooner SEAWARD, not a good idea being that SEAWARD is steel and 82 feet long. The resulting "incident" dismasted PAPOOSE and took the bowsprit off SEAWARD.
I'm not sure marine insurance companies favor the idea of racing older yachts in close quarters, in current, fresh breezes, with unpracticed crews and often skippers who are unfamiliar with racing rules or boat handling situations.
Aboard our 69 year old schooner MAYAN, all was going well. Navigator Stan Honey had us going the right directions at the right times, and our 20 person crew had the sails and centerboard going up and down with seemingly practiced precision. Never mind MAYAN only points within 110 degrees of the wind. Weighing nearly 35 tons, MAYAN rumbles along, and especially enjoys reaching legs, where the big Advance staysail, a giant quadrilateral sail that hoists to both the mainmast and foremast, helps deliver speeds upwards of 10 knots.
After the start, we close reached MAYAN to Little Harding, 4 tacked up to Blackaller, ran to Blossom Rock, jibed the kit and kaboodle for Southhampton, then beat back up to R-4 east of Pt. Blunt. Things were looking good until they weren't. We were catching up to the early starters in our class, including ELIZABETH MUIR, RUBY, and the big ketch PEGASUS.
As MAYAN thundered on the starboard tack layline for R-4 buoy, here comes the 51 foot ketch, PEGASUS, on port. Her owner/skipper later claimed he did not see MAYAN. Which from my point of view would be nearly impossible, especially as our 20 crew were vocal about calling "starboard!" Whatever, port tack PEGASUS did nothing: didn't duck our stern, didn't tack. Nada.
Had MAYAN held her course, PEGASUS would have been likely sunk, ruining a perfectly fine day.
Our skipper crash tacked MAYAN, and collision was avoided. With MAYAN's jib aback, we lay hove to on port tack, DITW, unable to tack to round R-4 as the offending PEGASUS sped away for the finish. The only thing we could do on MAYAN was jibe. That didn't go well, as the main boom skied, and hung up on the permanent backstay.
What had been an orderly ship a minute before, about to make an orderly rounding of R-4, was now a chaotic scene on deck, with sails flapping and the main boom hung up amidships.
Somehow, we got things disentangled, rounded R-4, and sped off on a reach for the finish east of Clipper Cove on Treasure Island. It's only a 2.5 mile leg. But our crew was rightfully pissed. And MAYAN picked up her skirts, really getting her rumble on. Halfway to the finish, we passed the offending PEGASUS, and were closing fast on RUBY and ELIZABETH MUIR.
There was no denying MAYAN. Synthia, on the tip of our 9 foot bowsprit, did her best imitation of a figurehead, and MAYAN got the winner's gun by a nose, in a 3 way photo finish.
Good stuff.
http://www.pressure-drop.us/forums/content.php?6355-2016-Master-Mariners-Burning-Up-The-Bay
With 18 knots of breeze funneling in the Gate, it wasn't long before carnage began. The L-36 PAPOOSE tried to port attack the schooner SEAWARD, not a good idea being that SEAWARD is steel and 82 feet long. The resulting "incident" dismasted PAPOOSE and took the bowsprit off SEAWARD.
I'm not sure marine insurance companies favor the idea of racing older yachts in close quarters, in current, fresh breezes, with unpracticed crews and often skippers who are unfamiliar with racing rules or boat handling situations.
Aboard our 69 year old schooner MAYAN, all was going well. Navigator Stan Honey had us going the right directions at the right times, and our 20 person crew had the sails and centerboard going up and down with seemingly practiced precision. Never mind MAYAN only points within 110 degrees of the wind. Weighing nearly 35 tons, MAYAN rumbles along, and especially enjoys reaching legs, where the big Advance staysail, a giant quadrilateral sail that hoists to both the mainmast and foremast, helps deliver speeds upwards of 10 knots.
After the start, we close reached MAYAN to Little Harding, 4 tacked up to Blackaller, ran to Blossom Rock, jibed the kit and kaboodle for Southhampton, then beat back up to R-4 east of Pt. Blunt. Things were looking good until they weren't. We were catching up to the early starters in our class, including ELIZABETH MUIR, RUBY, and the big ketch PEGASUS.
As MAYAN thundered on the starboard tack layline for R-4 buoy, here comes the 51 foot ketch, PEGASUS, on port. Her owner/skipper later claimed he did not see MAYAN. Which from my point of view would be nearly impossible, especially as our 20 crew were vocal about calling "starboard!" Whatever, port tack PEGASUS did nothing: didn't duck our stern, didn't tack. Nada.
Had MAYAN held her course, PEGASUS would have been likely sunk, ruining a perfectly fine day.
Our skipper crash tacked MAYAN, and collision was avoided. With MAYAN's jib aback, we lay hove to on port tack, DITW, unable to tack to round R-4 as the offending PEGASUS sped away for the finish. The only thing we could do on MAYAN was jibe. That didn't go well, as the main boom skied, and hung up on the permanent backstay.
What had been an orderly ship a minute before, about to make an orderly rounding of R-4, was now a chaotic scene on deck, with sails flapping and the main boom hung up amidships.
Somehow, we got things disentangled, rounded R-4, and sped off on a reach for the finish east of Clipper Cove on Treasure Island. It's only a 2.5 mile leg. But our crew was rightfully pissed. And MAYAN picked up her skirts, really getting her rumble on. Halfway to the finish, we passed the offending PEGASUS, and were closing fast on RUBY and ELIZABETH MUIR.
There was no denying MAYAN. Synthia, on the tip of our 9 foot bowsprit, did her best imitation of a figurehead, and MAYAN got the winner's gun by a nose, in a 3 way photo finish.
Good stuff.
http://www.pressure-drop.us/forums/content.php?6355-2016-Master-Mariners-Burning-Up-The-Bay
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BobJ
Alerion 38 "Surprise!"
You mean like this?
View attachment 1513
#1991 is ELIZABETH MUIR. This photo was taken by Will Campbell, I assume from aboard MAYAN.
It was "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" on the J/125 going to Monterey. I can tell you from personal observation that CTT's keel bulb is white.
View attachment 1513
#1991 is ELIZABETH MUIR. This photo was taken by Will Campbell, I assume from aboard MAYAN.
It was "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride" on the J/125 going to Monterey. I can tell you from personal observation that CTT's keel bulb is white.
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Could we have a bit more detail? What were you doing looking at CTT's keel bulb?
BobJ
Alerion 38 "Surprise!"
Oh, just checking it for kelp. It was easier to do that with the boat on its side. Okay, okay...
We're pointed at the Ano Nuevo buoy and closing at 16-18 knots on port gybe. The windward checkstay is on and the spinny is cross-sheeted on the primary (a really bad idea in my view). We kinda need to gybe, like PRETTY SOON.
Boss calls for the gybe and during the bear-away the new sheet manages to wind up with the old one into this glorious over-ride on the big 3-speed primary. The main comes across as we pirouette but the check didn't get released . . . need I continue?
We're pointed at the Ano Nuevo buoy and closing at 16-18 knots on port gybe. The windward checkstay is on and the spinny is cross-sheeted on the primary (a really bad idea in my view). We kinda need to gybe, like PRETTY SOON.
Boss calls for the gybe and during the bear-away the new sheet manages to wind up with the old one into this glorious over-ride on the big 3-speed primary. The main comes across as we pirouette but the check didn't get released . . . need I continue?
So the boom hits the check-stay, and the mast stays vertical and the boom doesn't break...I'd say the boat and rig is pretty hardy. Hopefully the sheets in the over-ride didn't have to be cut. And the check-stay was eased, allowing the boat to become more vertical. Wheeeee!
BobJ
Alerion 38 "Surprise!"
Right, the mast was horizontal. It didn't get vertical until I stepped down into 2 feet of water to release the check. "Big Rick" took the tack line across to the low side primary and tensioned it so we could release it. Between those two the boat started coming back up. The kite had about three feet left at the top, many feet of newly exposed leech lines and the remains at the bottom. At that point it was much easier to unwind the override so no sheets were damaged. The kite, not so much.
Are we having fun yet?
Are we having fun yet?