A Break In The Weather. Please.

"Man, what a picture-perfect postcard this would make... "
                                                            -Rodney Atkins



   I am so damn done with this winter.

  More snow has hit the ground  this winter than we have had in the past four winters, total.

  With more on the way.

  As I type this, it is -23 degrees Celsius outside my window.

  I am tired of the gleeful addendum  to the weather report  "... that feels like -1,387 with the windchill!"

   (Ever notice that the cruel, cold-hearted bastard who invented the Wind Chill Factor is anonymous?  Celsius and Fahrenheit and Richter and Geiger and Beaufort all named their various scales and measurements after themselves, but the guy who came up with the answer to "Hey, how can we make a miserable season like winter feel even worse?"  is unknown.  Or In Witness Protection.}

  I have run out of places to pile the snow that I scoop, once again, off Stately Jones Manor's sidewalks.

 The driveway?  Fuhgeddaboutit.  Down to two frozen ruts.

 I could live without that heart-sinking feeling  I get when I slide behind the wheel of Lady Liberty in the morning, turn the key and hear *click*.

  I am tired of the ritual of coming home, stepping inside the front entry, removing my boots and stepping in melted snow.  Every.  Damn.  Day.  


 The novelty of a "good old-fashioned Canadian winter" has well and truly worn off.

  So, it's time for some pretty pictures!

Jack and Melanie captured some great shots of the Wednesday Night fleet:

Shots from the end of the Dock:

  

  
Whiskeyjack at dusk:

Yes, Hilary is attempting to ram us...again.

   (objects in rear view mirror may appear closer than they actually are.)

  Speaking of Hilary, he and Deb often visit offspring who reside in the Bahamas, and they find it necessary to torture me with pictures upon their return:

   Look at that water!  It's ....blue!  All of the water here right now is white.  And solid.

     Eight and a half more weeks until the Dock reopens for the season.  We might even have clear water by then.

Until then, keep the faith, and continue to ...


"Talk the Dock!"

Low -Buck Lighting Review: Old School Edition

     "Threatened by shadows at night..."
                                     -Pink Floyd




    As prodigious as we are with rum consumption,  we are as miserly with electrical power aboard Whiskeyjack.

  We light the cabin with battery powered LED lighting which consumes a relatively small amount of power compared to traditional Edison-style bulbs, but LED lights have drawbacks not considered when we installed them.

For example, insects like them.

A lot.

In fact, a lot of little bugs like LED lights a lot.

(Yes, we have screened hatches, but that only keeps insects out that are already out when the hatches are closed- those insects that are in when the doors close remain in, swarming around the lights.  It's sort of like a dance club at last call.... in reverse.)

The ambience factor, or lack thereof, with most LED lighting is also not inconsiderable. The LED lights aboard bounce off the fiberglass overhead and fore and aft bulkheads, casting a dental-office style glare, hardly inducing one to curl up with the latest copy of Good Old Boat.

     There are certainly alternative colour LED bulbs, in warmer and fuzzier hues,  but retrofitting all of the panel-wired fixtures below deck is not an inconsiderable expense, and a project  filled with trepidation.  What if the bulbs we feel are bright yet warm, clear yet cozy in the store/at the show/ in the display/whatever feel different in the confines of our cabin?  Most vendors have a "no return" policy on electrical stock, bulbs included, so I envision ending up with hundreds of dollars of perfectly good yet completely unacceptable lightbulbs occupying valuable booze spares stowage real estate.

    And there is still going to be the infuriating infernal interior insect infestation in orbit around the aforementioned illumination.

    So, it was time to suss out some alternatives.

     Candles cast a warm glow, but lend little illumination, as evidenced by the small votive candle in the cockpit below.  An advantage over fixed-site lighting, however, is the convenience of being able to move light from deck to Dock to cabin to cockpit.  More flexibility in lighting means less lighting required on board, and less storage space dedicated to redundant illumination.

 It got me thinking, though.  Why not  try going old school?  We decided to explore the world of lanterns.

Traditional ship's lanterns....


image courtesy of amazon.com

... seem to fall into two categories:
1.  More expensive than electrical light, more elegant, well built and provide adequate light, and
2.  More expensive than electrical light, more elegant, really poorly built and provide inadequate light.

Is there an alternative?

We decided to find out.

 Low-buck style.

 Here's the parameters:
 Non-electric light suitable for reading/working in the cabin.
 Portable- usable in cockpit, cabin, on deck or on Dock.
 Unattractive to insects
 Under $25.


Go.

 First stop, Canadian Tire ,  where, for nearabout $17, I purchased a World Famous hurricane lantern, not exactly as shown, below.

When I purchased the lantern, it had a "World Famous" label attached to the chimney, which peeled off and fluttered to the floor when the lantern was removed from it's cellophane wrapping.  The lackadaisical label was an accurate indicator of the quality of  the lantern to which  it was formerly attached.  The price was cheap, and the product lived up to the price. Included was a business card-sized slip of paper with filling and  lighting instructions printed in smudgy 6 point type.  The lantern itself  is about 12" tall, with a base diameter of about 5".  The fit and finish appeared sloppy, an impression which was dramatically reinforced later.

Next, we paid a visit to our good friends at Lee Valley Tools and traded $19.95 for a Dietz "No. 80" hurricane lamp.

Wow.  What a difference $3 makes.  The Dietz lantern came in an honest-to-goodness box with the globe wrapped for protection.  Included were lighting and cleaning instructions, wick trimming info and a short but succinct trouble-shooting guide. Compared to the World Famous lantern, No. 80 felt huge, standing 15" high with an 8" wide footprint.  Fit and finish was better than expected, with decent plating on the burner, bails, globe plate and tank cap.


Price winner:  World Famous
First Impression winner: Dietz No. 80



With the contestants chosen, it was time to get them ready for use. Both lanterns are kerosene fueled, so after a perusal of the filling directions, the lanterns were placed on the table and  loaded with keros...
...sonofabitch!!!!!...

The World Famous lantern's instruction slip included the cryptic phrase "Do not fill tank more than half"  There was no explanation for this fortune-cookieish bit of advice, and also no instruction on how one determines when the lantern is half full- there are no "fill to here"  markings, and the small fill port is completely obscured by the spout of the kerosene container providing sustenance, so trying to eyeball the level doesn't work.  So, in typical Dock Six fashion, I guessed.

And overshot the mark.

I discovered this fact when kerosene leaked STREAMED out of the tank, not from the fill port, but from the tank itself.  It turns out the tank has a large hole where each of the legs that hold the chimney are attached.  I cleaned up the kerosene from the table top, aired out the cabin and turned to fueling No. 80.

Which was accomplished in an incident-free fashion.

Fueling Winner: Dietz No.80


With the candidates ready for action, it was time for the illumination elimination round.  Time to introduce the incumbent to the festivities, the $2 LED lamp that hangs over the table, affectionately known as the " UFO Light"

Here's UFO in action:

  Here is how a copy of Good Old Boat looks under the light cast by UFO.  Lots of illumination, but lots of glare as well.

That is the current cabin lighting standard aboard.  Let's see how our competitors compare.

With some fiddling, with both hands as the globe refused to stay raised thanks to the poor fit of the lifting bail, World Famous was persuaded to light, and with further fiddling, encouraged not to smoke (at least not until it's 18 years old and/or no longer resides in our house).

Illumination was provided, but, like every other aspect of this lamp, it was disappointing.

One can see that there is a magazine in front of them, one can discern that there are photos, one can read the title, but beyond that, gathering information from the page is a struggle.  Illumination was spotty, with shadows and flickers

I briefly suspended the test to trim the flickering wick and wash the soot off the globe, hoping to increase the output.
The result?

Um, yeah.... no.

Right then, let's see what No. 80 brings to the table.

Definitely easier to light, requiring only one hand.  Lift the globe, lock the bail, set the wick, strike a match, trim the wick, lower the globe, done.

   The result?
  Usable illumination.  Warmer, brighter, over a larger area with no shadows or flickering.  Not nearly as bright as UFO but easier on the eyes and bug-free!

 Illumination winner:  Dietz No. 80

  Further testing in the cockpit on our last sail of the season earned compliments from Jack and Melanie on how well No.80 lit the cockpit, with none of the breeze induced flickering and relighting as was often the case with citronella candles, and no wax on the cockpit sole.

I think we might have a winner, with some improvement to the plan.   A second lantern is needed to fully light the cabin, and lighting the v-berth with a lantern this size isn't gonna work, so there is no choice in retaining some LED lighting.
The "cozy" factor is not to be underestimated, however, and the consistent response is how much "nicer" the lantern light feels compared to the electric alternative.
We're gonna give it a long term test next season, and we'll let you know how it goes.


"Talk the Dock!"

I Remain, Sadly, An Idiot.

     "...everything isn't meant to be okay..."
                               -Green Day





             Sometimes, you just gotta acknowledge the ugly truth when it bites you in the ass.
             This is my turn.
             Don't go getting all smug, though, gentle reader...
             It might be your turn tomorrow.

             A funny thing happens when one endeavours to fill a blog with their exploits, opinions and adventures read by thousands hundreds scores a bored handful.  Some begin to think that, you know, the author might actually know what he is talking about, could be considered an expert of sorts, or at least more expert than some readers.

           

            Just in case any of you are so incredibly naive as to think that I indeed might actually know anything about this whole boating business, let me clarify my position.  Last year I divulged that yes, I am an idiot .
             A year, and 200+ blog posts later,
             I am still an idiot.
             A big, fat, happy, idiot.... but an idiot nonetheless.
             However, I am not a complete moron- I endeavour never to make the same mistake twice, but to always find new ways to screw up.
              This season has been rife with stupid sailor tricks.
             Enjoy the tales of my idiocy, and maybe you can learn something from my experiences.  I did.

                    I built Chirp in 2009, and she has weathered storms, been hauled onto and off docks, cartops, dock carts...

              and now the breakwall.

                         When I first launched her that first season, I tied the painter to the boweye and forgot about it.  Three seasons later, on a mild day with little wind, while tied on the lee side of the Dock,  while I was running errands ashore,  the knot finally worked free, and Chirp quietly, slowly floated across  and gently bumped against the rocks.
                        I got a text message from Ralph that she was adrift, 20th Hole Rick was kind enough to snap the photo above, and within the half hour it took me to return to the Dock, Jack and Melanie had snagged the wayward dinghy and returned her to her rightful place.

                   Lesson learned:  Check all knots daily- you never know when you might need something to stop you when you hit the end of your rope.

                People with too much time on their hands Faithful readers may remember the Solar Shower swan dive covered here last week.

               Lesson learned:  Stow it, or secure it, even if it seems like it doesn't need stowing or securing .  It does.

               Last weekend, SWMBO and I and the compact sportsdawg anchored off the beach for a swim.  When we prepared to return to the Dock, the standard protocol is that I put my bulging biceps and six pack abs to work retrieving the anchor while SWMBO (wo)mans the wheel and guides us toward deeper water and home.  We've never had a problem.

              Until last weekend.

              As I am hauling on the anchor rode, I notice that the anchor chain is no longer ahead of the boat. Rather, the boat seems to be circling the chain.  I yell request that the helmswoman straighten us out, then turn my attention back to getting the ground tackle off the ground and onto the boat.  I  make my way back to the cockpit, observing SWMBO spinning the wheel.  The helm on Whiskeyjack goes lock-to-lock in three turns.  In the time it took me to clamber from the bow back to the cockpit, I watched SWMBO turn the wheel approximately 347 times.

          Obviously, something is amiss.

           Sidling up the SWMBO at the pedestal, I chauvinistically muttered, "Let me try."
           I spun the wheel just as well as she did.

           In technical terms, we have no connection from the spinny wheel thingy on the deck of the boat to the flappy rudder thingy on the underside of the boat,
   
            In other words, we have no steering.

            On a beach.
            With wind and waves picking up.
             And a depth finder reading of 2.9 feet.
             We draw 3 feet.
             Us short fat guys can move when our ass is on the line.  I raced to the bow, tossed the anchor toward deeper water and  hoped it set, then raced back to the cockpit, urged SWMBO to kill the engine, fell into the cabin to grab my tool bag and proceeded to trouble-shoot the problem. Jack, seeing our distress, clambered aboard and we worked it through, with only occasional disconcerting bumps as we bounced off the bottom with the deeper troughs between swells.Starting aft we determined that the rudder was still attached to the boat, the rudder shaft was still attached to the quadrant, the steering cables were still attached to the quadrant, so, for the first time since SWMBO and I became the boat's stewards, (bolding intentional- learn from my ignorance)  we took the compass off the top of the pedestal, and turned the wheel and saw that the wheel was the only thing turning.

          The wheel is secured to the shaft with two set screws.  One was missing and one was a turn or two from being missing.

 
     I tightened the remaining set screw and carefully nursed Whiskeyjack back to the Dock.

     Lesson learned:     If it worked last year, last month, last week, or in the last hour is no guarantee it will continue to work- inspect moving parts more often.  Ignorance is not bliss.  There should be no "first times" when it comes to systems inpsection, after five seasons of boat ownership


    Earlier that day, Gavin has asked me to take a look at his jib furler, which had decided to puke it's halyard.    The plan was to determine whether we could bring the mast down at the dock and solve the issue, so when Marco asked if we could use another pair of hands, I took him up on the offer.  We loaded into Quack and motored over to the Dock Six Annex.  The Yamaha OB banged and sputtered and quit a couple of times, but I figured it was just weeds hung up in the prop.  After sagely examining the mast, the forestay, the furler, the boat across the dock from Sol Antics, wind direction and intensity and Gavin's insurance policy, the decision was made to find another solution.  With that decision made, Marco and I embarked on the return trip.

    Which sputtered to a halt as we entered the main fairway.  Weeds around the prop?  Nope, no weeds around the prop.
Also no gas.

    Quack  is a small lightweight inflatable that is easy to tow and easy to row...by one person.

     With two aboard it is comedy and humiliation.

     Marco bent to the oars,as I tried to stay out of the way, (only because he was already facing aft- I'm not making the newbie a galley slave.  beside, he volunteered.) hauled us across the fairway, and into an empty slip on the Dock, at which point I urged him to flee while I flapped and splashed Quack the rest of the way home...

     But not before Julie managed to get a picture.

     On the bright side, here is photographic proof  I own more than one shirt!

    Lesson learned:  Always top up tank before departure- I'm less likely to get in trouble with a full tank than an empty one.

     Which brings us to yesterday, another day at the beach.  When we anchored the water was calm, but as the afternoon progressed, the wind picked up and the waves followed suit.  By mid-afternoon it was distinctly choppy, with waves of  3-5'.  Most of the boats around us decided to pack it in and head for the safety of sheltered slips.  We, on the other hand, decided that it made more sense to wait it out- usually the wind dies by 6 o'clock, making for a less harried departure, and more relaxed foredeck work.  No point in leaving a secure anchorage if you don't have to, we figured.  We retired to the v-berth to read, and I listened to the reassuring gentle groaning and squeaking  of the anchor rode, pulling against the cleat over my head.

     A few minutes later, the deck noises ceased.

     A quick glance through the forward hatch confirmed the bad news.

     Our anchor rode had snapped.

     Before I went below, I had checked the rode for fraying and chafe where it passed through the cleat, and it was fine.  Now, it quite clearly, emphatically, was not.

  

     On the upside, this makes our get-the-hell-off-the-beach-right-now procedure much simpler. None of that anchor hauling stuff needed.   Start engine, point offshore, go.

      Except the engine won't start.

     Crap.

     Okay, diagnose it later, let's move to Plan B.  We quickly unfurled the genoa, and sailed ourselves out of trouble.  For now.
      See, we're now off the beach, but to get back to the Dock the wind is going to be on our bow.  Not good. Whiskeyjack is a solid, steadfast, comfortable boat, but she's more of a setter than a pointer.  Getting into the marina is going to mean several tacks across a busy channel. Not a great plan.  Better get the engine running.  A quick seat-of-the-pants diagnosis is lack of fuel.  I usually change the fuel filter every spring, but had put it off this season for no good reason.  It appears that that decision has now come back to haunt me.  With some cranking and cracking the fuel filter bowl to drain the crap in there and more cranking we managed to convince our little Yanmar to run, and we returned to the Dock with no further excitement.

     Lessons learned:  Oversized rode is better than rode that is just big enough, chafe gear is a good idea even if you are anchoring on a sunny day for an afternoon swim, and maintenance deferred is disaster awaiting.

   Tomorrow is my day off, and rather than sailing, I am declaring a maintenance day.  Whiskeyjack and Chirp and Quack and Legacy deserve some attention.  My barrel of luck might be running dry, and my cup of experience is nowhere near filled yet.



"Talk the Dock!"

New Crew Review

     "I haven't yet, but there's still a chance I might..."

                              -The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

     When dirt-folks discover that I am a sailor, I often hear, "Oh, I have always wanted to sail! I'd like to sail sometime!  How do I get started sailing?"

      Huh?

    I mean, nobody ever asks, "How do I get started golfing?"  or "How do I get started jogging?"  You just show up.

    So, in an effort to get more folks like us involved, I'm going to let everyone in on the secret.

    Ready?

    Come on down the Dock.  

    Or any dock where you see masts.

    Bring rum.

   You're in.

   Nobody is more happy to show off their boat or have new crew than sailors. 

   Especially me.  

   See, greenhorns have no idea  how a boat is supposed to sail or look  or what proper sail shape looks like, so they have no idea just what a hack I am.

   (It occasionally drives SWMBO nuts when I press-gang strays without notice, but she is great at rolling with the punches, and finding a way to stretch a half box of crackers and a stick of cheese into snacks for four.)

  The month started off with an afternoon aboard with SWMBO's bosses, Lyn and Leigh.  This is the first time I had spent any time with them...

.... and the first time they had spent any time with me.

I admire my wife for having the courage to throw her career prospects to the winds.

(Hey, it's that or wonder WTF she was thinking.)

It was a rough day, rougher than we'd like for sailing with newbies, so we simply soaked up the atmosphere on the Dock, and  talked about boats and sailing and life in general and met some of the other characters, and generally proselytized like boat missionaries.

Gavin and Sylvia made a guest appearance and added a couple of hallelujahs and amens.

  It worked.  Lyn and Leigh spent the next few days scouring the classified ads looking for boats, and the next weekend they inspected a Bayfield 25 for sale here in the Marina...  and brought dinner.  And rum.
And we brought Jack and Melanie to further sink the hook.

  Lyn and Leigh will be hull-wet by the beginning of next season.

A couple of weeks later Leigh came out for a sail, and we shanghai'd Ed into joining us.  The wind wasn't heavy but the Bay was choppy.  So choppy that we managed to break some of our high quality polycarbonate  dinnerware.  Yes, Virginia, you can break stuff at 3 knots.

A  couple of weeks ago I bought a solar shower to test and review.  Basically it is a black 5 gallon bag of water with a hose.  To use, you fill the bag with water, leave it in direct sunlight and a few hours later, you have warmish water.  The best only place on Whiskeyjack  to lay a solar shower is atop the cabin.  

What does this have to do with newbies?

Last weekend Marco and Dee came aboard.  Neither had sailed before, but both were enthusiastic.  The wind was optimal, so we  set out.   With detailed instruction, the newbs hoisted main and unfurled the genoa and trimmed the sails and we were moving!

As we heeled to 30 degrees, I realized that the forgotten solar shower  had been neither stowed nor secured. It walked across the cabin top like a water-filled slinky, flip, flip, flip, and then FLOP! jumped over the side.

Retrieval was a non-starter as it was quickly lost to sight in our wake.

That was the only mishap of the afternoon and we had a great sail.  Marco enjoyed himself and really "got it."...

   ...but Dee is well and truly HOOKED.  Marco and Dee are apparently going to be sailboat shopping soon.

  So, how do you start sailing?  Go where the masts are.  Bring rum.  Soon you'll be grinning too.

And "Talk the Dock!"