Memory Foam

Or, Gee, that bunk is hard!

You don’t have to live on your boat to need a comfy place to sleep. At the end of a day full of sailing, you’ve done a lot of physical work, and while you probably could sleep on a bed of nails, it should not have to be your only choice.

Enter memory foam. I don’t think that name is trademarked as I have seen it on foam toppers in stores like BIG LOTS and WAL-MART.

I’m not talking about the foam pads, often waffled in texture, from days gone by. I’ve tried those for other purposes. Maybe they make a psychological difference, but by morning your body will know there was nothing of significance on top of that lumpy, or old, or hard, mattress.

Memory foam is different in that it actually improves comfort. Yes. I’m saying it’s worth the money. And it’s not that much money any more. A twin bed-sized memory foam topper, 4” thick, may not cost you more than $100. Put it on top of the hard cushions typically used on most sailboat bunks and you’ll be a happy camper. My vee berth would require a double-bed size, but that doesn’t cost much more. 

Mention of the vee berth in particular brings us to the issue of shape. Very few things come to a right angle on sailboats, and only rarely is something like a berth standard-sized. That means you’re going to have to cut this foam, and cutting 4” foam can be a challenge. (I do recommend getting the 4”, but I like a soft bed.)

Unless you have an electric knife. Happily, I found one at WAL-MART in their small kitchen appliance center for only ten dollars . I didn’t even bother to try to make a pattern. I simply put the foam on the berth, and cut away the extra foam. I recommend doing that in several stages so you don’t accidentally cut away too much. You may find that your berth is, say, 2” shorter than the foam. Don’t try to force the knife through the foam too fast, and try to keep the knife vertical. However, the foam is packaged quite tightly at the factory, and you may find that it won’t really be completely its final shape until about 24 hours after you have unpacked it.

If you shape the foam precisely, it will fit snugly and tend to stay in place. I had to cut the front edge at an angle, as the berth was the width of a twin bed at one end but not the other. In addition, notches had to be cut out of the back edge. But any mess from the foam is easy to clean up afterwards.

These foam toppers come with mattress covers, which quite naturally are rectangular. Getting the cover on your cut foam is a battle and I suggest you have someone to help you with it.

Then flip the mattress over, and get a needle and thread. Pull the mattress cover tight, working from the edges to the middle, and just baste the folds of extra fabric down, and the mattress cover won’t shift around on you. It doesn’t have to look pretty; no one will ever see it. I also suggest putting a second mattress cover over that. That one will go on much easier than the first one did, and be more easily removable for laundering.

If you really want to go all-out, you can also modify a set of twin or double sheets (or whatever size you’re working with) to fit, but since that’s going to show, if you don’t have good sewing skills, find someone who does have the skills to do that. This time you will have to work on the top side, but a good seamstress can take the extra fabric up where the sheet folds over the edge of the foam, and you won’t have to lie on – or look at – a seam going down the middle of your mattress.

I don’t recommend using memory foam instead of the cushions already on your berth. Those cushions are made for a marine environment and meant to hold up to things like people sitting on them. But you can stow them in the vee berth during the day and pull them out at night if you live on your boat, or store them in any place free of dampness if you only use your boat on occasional weekends.

I have found this moderately priced memory foam to be extremely comfortable, and I’m a “Princess and the Pea” kind of woman – if the bed isn’t comfy, it drives me nuts.

Good luck with this, and … sweet dreams!




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Choosing Hardware

Or, As plain as black and white

When I bought this boat, she had a "StackPack" for the mainsail. A Stackpack is a Sunbrella™pocket attached to the boom. It catches the mainsail when you drop it, and then zippers closed. The Stackpack looked as if it were fairly new, but the white zipper was broken, and the top of the sail was exposed to the sun's UV rays. The top was also so high up that I really couldn't reach the zipper.

Now, there can be several problems with a stackpack. As you can see from the photo, it remains up while the sail is deployed. It can interfere with sail shape. You lose any benefit you might gain from having your mainsail loose-footed. But in addition, on my boat the stackpack itself acted as a sail. Combine all that with the broken zipper, and I removed it. I used the Stackpack lines to create a "lazyjack" system.

The photo above shows "lazy jacks" in position to catch the sail. Later I'll show how mine are positioned

while raising the sail and while sailing. I include the information now just for those who aren't yet

familiar with these sail management systems.

I mentioned the color of the broken zipper for a reason: that zipper was constantly exposed to UV rays, and for reasons I don't understand but can only report, white plastic is damaged more by UV rays than black. It seems counter-intuitive to me, since black absorbs all light while light reflects it, but maybe that only is true for the visible portion of the color spectrum. 

I recently upgraded my topping lift because I had an extremely hard time using it. In fact, I couldn't use it. I should raise it while reefing, but I simply wasn't strong enough to pull it. So I dug through my collection of random hardware, and found this:

double block

and this:

double block with becket

Using these two pieces of hardware, I was able to change the purchase, or ability to pull, from a 2:1 ratio to a 4:1 ratio. It's still a bit of a tug; the topping lift raises the boom with the mainsail on it, and it's heavy, but it's much more manageable now.

Now, here's the point: I had my choice of blocks with white sheaves in them or black sheaves, and I chose the black ones. I also had a double block with becket the right size in my collection but with white sheaves, and when I looked at it, one edge of one of the sheaves was all chewed up and chipped. This is UV damage, and that rough, jagged edge would not have been kind to my topping lift line.

When you buy hardware for your boat, whether you buy it new or pick it up at a marine "yard sale," choose the ones with black plastic. they're far less likely to fracture when you need them most. 

If you get something like a Stackpack that requires exposed zippers, instruct the canvas maker to use black zippers. When it comes to cockpit netting, it becomes a judgment call. Some boats look good with black netting, but mine isn't one of them, and black zippers on white netting wouldn't have been much better. However, zippers on netting are a lot easier to replace than a zipper on a Stackpack, and a lot more visible. 

Right now I am laid up with what is probably a torn ACL I'm limiting how much I climb around the boat until the ACL can be dealt with, and that's keeping me from photographing things. I'll provide picture of both my improved topping lift and the damaged double block I found among my old hardware. 

I'm going to say one more thing about all of this. Serious racers can be quite compulsive about keeping every possible ounce of weight down on their boats, and I get that. I understand they want to give themselves every possible edge.

But unless you're going to do intensive competitive racing on your boat, I vote in favor of keeping your lines a little long. Because my topping lift line was a little long, I was able to make this change without buying new line. I'm still going to dig through my stash of line, though, because the diameter of the line is unnecessarily small, making it harder to grip and harder to pull (just make sure your line isn't too big for the sheaves in your blocks, or you'll make the problem worse -- not better).

At 68, I have to expect that parts of my body are going to occasionally holler if they're overworked, and it's worth it to me to have more purchase and a larger line on my topping lift, but I also believe in being proactive. You can do these things even if you're young and fit -- you will still get plenty of exercise sailing your boat. Keep your running rigging easy to use. You may still have to give it all it's got if the ship hits the fan and you're trying to adjust things while the boat is heeled 20º.


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You COULD Go Over the Side -- Really! -- Lifelines

No smart cracks this time -- this is serious stuff

I have heard about lifelines from a couple of people ever since I got my first little sailboat. People are passionate in their beliefs about them.

For instance, there's a big debate about whether they should be clad in vinyl or not. Many owners feel the vinyl looks nicer, even though vinyl-clad cable is more expensive than bare cable. Others insist that it's extremely important to have bare cable, because vinyl can hide the first signs of rust, a sign that your lifelines could fail.

Oh my gracious -- then you could fall overboard, right?

Well, yeah, you CAN fall overboard, but it can happen if you have the newest, brighest, tightest lifelines possible.

How is that possible?

Just go stand on the side of your boat, and note where the lifeline touches your body. Unless you're a child, it's going to be WELL below your waist. This means that your center of gravity is WELL above that top lifeline (assuming you have two -- smaller boats will only have one). 

The lifelines can't save you, I don't care what the "experts" say. I know a true expert who calls loose or weakened lifelines "deathlines." He's been sailing for many, many years and figured out long ago that the lifelines won't save him, but it's hard to ignore that word -- LIFEline.

Well, you have to. Words don't trump the laws of physics.

So what are they good for? They're an OUTSTANDING visual guide. They make it very, very clear where the edge of the cliff is. But once you have realized that those lifelines won't save you (and could actually encourage you to topple over), you'll realize why you want to move toward the bow from the HIGH side of the boat. On the high side of the boat, if you do fall, you'll fall toward the center of the boat -- not into the water.

What else can you do? My boat is 100% netted. I even made a frame with netting on it that lashes to my gates when they're closed. I have a coordination problem (talked about in a much earlier post), so I'm more likely than you to go over the side. Not everyone wants netting but I think it's wise for me.

The other thing you *must* do is make sure you have good handholds along the edge of your cabin top. You often see these made of teak. My boat also has a stainless steel grab bar that runs across the beam. We hear the saying, "One hand for yourself and one for your boat," and that's exactly what it means. As you move forward, you should always be holding on with one hand, and you shouldn't be holding the lifeline. You should be holding something closer to the center of the boat.

If the boat is sailing and you need to do something at the mast, move to the mast from the high side of the boat, where gravity will tend to push you toward the boat, not away from it.

Wear nonskid shoes. I don't care how many macho men tell you bare feet are best: if you break a toe, you're going to be significantly hobbled. Test their grip on your deck periodically, as the grip-holding tendencies of your shoes can wear out.

Don't count on the "life" lines to save you. Do keep them in good shape, but they are last-ditch, and in my opinion, best used by attaching netting to them.



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Dirty Fuel

or, Good heavens -- you have to clean EVERYTHING!

I have had this experience with both outboard and diesel engines. I've never had a gas inboard (ex: Atomic 4), so I can't speak to that.

You wouldn't think anything could grow, thrive and even make huge problems in something that seems as noxious to us as diesel fuel, but unfortunately (as the fellow said in JURASSIC PARK) -- life seems to find a way.

There are critters, most typically a type of algae, who think your tank of diesel is heaven on Earth. Unfortunately like all life forms, they reproduce. Unfortunately like all life forms, they also die.

Once they've died, they settle to the bottom or stick to the sides of your tank, where they may make no problems for years. They may not show up as dirt in either of your fuel filters. They may, however, gather in your fuel line.

You may have no awareness of this until something disturbs either your fuel lines or your fuel tank. 

I have often said that my experience is not as extensive as many, but I have sailed intensively since I started, and I have had several experiences with dirty diesel fuel. Fortunately for me, the first time it happened, I was on someone else's boat. He had been in a three-day race in early January. Now, sailing off Florida in January can be pretty dicey, because when fronts come through from the North, they often pack a punch. On the East coast, the northern wind pushes against the Gulf Stream, which flows roughly from south to north at a pretty good clip. When the two collide, very large waves (especially for newer sailors like us) can be the result. You want to check the weather carefully before crossing the Gulf Stream any time, but in winter it is often a problem.

On the west coast where I live, we have a different set of problems. We get the same north winds, this time blowing over lots of open, relatively shallow water. A minor front can create 8' waves in the Gulf of Mexico near the shore, with even larger waves further off shore. 

But none of this mattered to my friend, who is a master sailor and ardent racer. Nothing stops him, and with his experience he has a solution for everything. One race unfortunately coincided with a stalled front, and winds were high and the waters rough throughout the race. When one of his crew members got so seasick she was dizzy and disoriented, making bad judgment calls and a danger to herself, the rest of the crew simply tied her to the mast so there was no risk of her going overboard. 

His boat performed well in the race, but then he had to move his boat from Clearwater back to Gulfport. It was still too rough to go outside without a full crew, so I went up to Clearwater just to keep him company as he brought the boat down via the more sheltered Intracoastal Waterway. This man loves to teach and pointed out a lot of valuable information to me.

Then came the unintended lessons: right as we were about to go under a bridge, his diesel engine died. He steered the boat through the bridge, glided over to the side of the waterway, and put an anchor down. The problem was immediately obvious: both his Racor filter and his engine filter (often called the "secondary" filter) were black with dirt. He put a plastic red Solo-type cup under the Racor and drained the fuel. He passed the cup to me, and I set it on the nearby galley counter. He changed that filter and the engine filter, and we were shortly on our way. About a half an hour later he pulled the boat over again, put the hook down, and checked the filters, which were clogging up again. He has some clear tubing in his fuel system. He looked at the fuel going to the engine, and it seemed clean, so he started her up again. Eventually she sputtered, but we made it back to Gulfport with just one more round of filter changes.

Unfortunately, it's a very bad idea to drain fuel into a Solo cup. Diesel dissolves that kind of plastic, and we had a mess to clean up in the galley. Keep a glass jar (maybe the size spaghetti sauce comes in) with your engine tools, wrapped against breakage, in case you have to drain your Racor filter.

So then the question was "why?" My friend believes that the rough three days of racing sloshed the fuel around with vigor, essentially scrubbing a lot of dirt collected over years of use back into the fuel. Diesel engines are very sensitive to supply interruption. A tiny air bubble can bring it to a stop, which is why your manual explains how to "bleed" the engine of air bubbles. A tiny bit of water can stop it, which is why you should have a Racor-type filter, which catches water as well as dirt. Dirt in the fuel can stop it. This is all because of the way diesel engines work: very small jets spray a very fine mist of fuel through injectors. Because that spray is so fine, the smallest (noncombustible) thing can replace the diesel, depriving the engine of fuel. Gas engines aren't as sensitive to these things as diesels are. My friend got rid of his fuel and cleaned his tanks, and solved the problem, at last for then.

Eventually my friend needed a new engine, and then he suddenly had fuel interruption problems again. He had his tank cleaned, and got rid of the old fuel (if your boat holds a lot of fuel, there are companies that will "polish" it for you and clean it up) -- but the problem persisted. What my friend eventually discovered was that his fuel lines were so clogged with dirt that it didn't matter how clean his fuel and tank were. He replaced those hoses and had no more problems.

Later on, I also had the same problem, again stemming from sailing in rough water, but in spite of my previous experience with my friend, I didn't realize what the problem was at first. All I knew was that the engine would unexpectedly die. The first time it happened, someone suggested that my propeller had caught a piece of line floating in the water and then released it. He said, "Sometimes that happens." When it happened two more times, however, I discounted that theory. I didn't picture a stray rope catching on my propeller *and* spontaneously freeing itself three times. Each time I bled the engine, and each time the engine started up. I was thinking I had a little air leak in the fuel system somewhere, but I took a "wait and see" attitude. Then one evening while taking the boat out for a moonlight sail on the Gulf with friends, she died completely, and bleeding didn't get her going again. Now, on this engine, parts had to be taken off the engine to get at that filter, and the Racor was in an inaccessible place (if your boat is like that -- move it!) I thought I was out of fuel. With no fuel gauge, it can be hard to know when getting fuel is crucial.

At the fuel dock, the boat took only five gallons. That's when it dawned on me -- dirty fuel. 

Several days later, a friend climbed down into the very deep lazarette at the back of the boat, we pumped out all the dirty fuel, and he cut a hole in the tank. We started passing him pieces of oil pad. My oil pads are about 24" square, and we cut one into fourths. We passed a piece down to him, and he passed it back up soaked up at least 2 lb. of sludge -- and he had barely begun. What a mess, but it had to be done.

This is a big pile of oil pads, sometimes called "engine diapers," but that is also the correct name for

something else, so at the store I suggest you ask for oil pads. You lay one under your engine to catch

oily drips so they don't go into the bilge. Unless you have a big clean-up, if your engine is running properly,

you should just put one under your engine, check it periodically, and replace as necessary. One may

well last a year or more. The material they are made of absorbs petroleum products but not water,

making them very good for cleaning up small petroleum spills. You can buy them in smaller quantities

and for most people, having three or four on hand is plenty.

I was lucky, and my fuel hoses were OK. We had a fabrication shop make a cover for the hole in the fuel tank, with a diesel-resistant gasket (I had them make me a second one to have on hand just in case something happens to the one I have, since it was custom). Surprisingly, that fabrication was inexpensive.

It was a real hassle to do all of that, but I don't worry about getting caught in rough water now. Think about it -- as I've said before, when the ship hits the fan, turning the engine on and being ready to use it can be a good strategy, especially for newer sailors. You need to be sure your tank isn't all clogged up with gunk.

However, I urge you to check with your engine manufacturer and find out which algae-controlling additive they recommend -- and then use that specific brand (and do use it)! I say to check with the manufacturer because part of my problem was that I just picked something off West Marine's shelf. I knew no anti-algae agent had been in the fuel, so I followed the  instructions on the bottle to "shock" the tank by using a larger dose than usual. As it turns out, that can be a very bad idea, because if you have lots of live algae in the tank, they will all die at once, and sink to the bottom, which is where your fuel line picks up its fuel. My problem started when I shocked the fuel with this stuff. When my friend cleaned the tank, he found extra heaps of sludge around the fuel pickup. We had to pass him other tools to clean that area out well.

My Yanmar manual actually states not to use the product I used (sorry but I don't remember the name), so I went to the Yanmar dealer. They showed me exactly what to use and made sure I knew how to use it.

Check both your Racor (a valuable and relatively inexpensive engine protection) and your "secondary" filter (the one built into the engine) periodically as part of sensible routine engine maintenance.



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Sailing in Gusty Winds -- a great link!

People who have sailed for many years mostly know this information, but this blog is for people with less experience, and one of the more challenging situations for newer sailors is when the weather turns gusty. You could be unexpectedly caught in gusty weather for a number of reasons. You might have expected to get back in long before the bad weather hit, but something goes wrong and you don't make it.

You need to know how to handle gusty weather. Not only will you and your companions be uncomfortable otherwise -- someone could be hurt. They could be moving toward the head when a gust hits and fall in the cabin (fall in the cabin and you're very likely to have a bad fall), or sprain something when thrown off balance, or be hurt while moving forward to deal with something.

The webpage listed below covers what to do extremely well. I'll just make a few comments in case the information doesn't quite make sense. Here's the website:

http://learntosail.hubpages.com/hub/Three-Sailing-Tips-for-Less-Heel-in-Gusty-Breezes

And here's the core, with my comments in blue:

"1. Luff up on a Gust
Watch the water to windward. Look for dark, ruffled spots that signal the arrival of a gust. Point up toward the wind just before the gust arrives. This will luff the forward part of your sails and depower them--but keep the boat driving and on her feet!"

 Start learning to read the surface of the water now. The surface does change as the wind changes. On a light wind day, you can see puffs of stronger wind coming to take advantage of them. On rough days, you can see them coming and strategize.

So what does "luff up" mean? It means to make the sales "luff," or shake. It typically (but not always) starts at the luff, or leading edge, of the sail. You make the sail luff by steering more directly into the wind. A sailboat pointing into the wind can't sail because it can't catch any wind, and it can't use the sails as an air foil. The boat is depowered, which is what you need in too much wind. You need to depower the sails. This is one way to do it, and if the gusts are significant, you need to be in position before the gust hits.

You can also steer into the wind as you feel the wind rising. Gusts often occur on a curve -- the first increase will not be the peak, and you still have time to ease its impact on your boat, but also learn to read the waves.

What does "still driving the boat" mean? The writer is suggesting that you don't point the boat completely into the wind -- just enough to weaken the effects of wind on your sail. You're still moving, and the boat is "on her feet" -- not heeling excessively.

So what this is really about is steering. Now, steering is easier when the boat is in balance, which is covered a little further below.

"2. Ease your Sheets / Back your Blocks
Move the mainsheet car down the traveler track to leeward. Ease the mainsheet a few inches. Then, set your headsail sheet blocks back a few holes along the Genoa tracks. These actions cause the top of your sail to open--or twist--to spill high octane wind up high. This keeps heel down for a more balanced boat."

What's the "mainsheet car?" I could show you a picture of mine, but yours might look different. The "traveler track" moves across the beam of the boat. Sometimes it's across the cabin top, as mine is. Sometimes it's in the floor of the cockpit, right in front of the companionway. Sometimes it's at the back of the boat. Some smaller boats don't have travelers -- my little 25' Irwin didn't have one.

If you have a traveler, you release both traveler lines, and then pull on the leeward line. If the wind is coming over your port side, you pull on the starboard traveler line, and move the sail controls to starboard. This causes "twist" at the top of the sail. You can spot this because the curve of the leech -- the back edge of the sail -- will now have a more exaggerated curve in it, especially toward the top. This makes the sail more inefficient. It's an easy and quick way to depower your mainsail. If the gust was significant enough to make your boat heel too much, she should immediately settle down and heel less, what the author means by "keeping heel down."

But what does a "more balanced boat" mean? Without getting technical, the more balanced the boat is, the less physical exertion it takes to steer the boat. But it *also* means that the boat is more in control. Using the traveler to move the sail to leeward is a quick and effective method to "spill the mainsail" so it can't hold as much wind. You have effectively, temporarily turned your mainsail into a smaller sail.

OK, so what does "back your blocks" mean? The sheets for your headsail come back to the cockpit after being led through a moveable block that sits on a long track. The position of that block can dramatically affect the shape of your headsail. When the winds pick up, adjusting your mainsail as described above may not be enough to get your boat back in balance and sailing easily (which you judge easily by the amount of effort needed to steer her). If you move those blocks back toward the stern, you ... twist the headsail as well, causing wind to spill out of the top, and in effect, making your headsail smaller. 

Now, this isn't as easily (or as safely) done as adjusting the traveler. To move the blocks you have to first notice where the load is. Which is the working sheet? Well, in the scenario above, the wind was coming across the port side of the boat (a "port tack"). This makes the STARBOARD sheet carry the load. The port sheet is slack. So that's the one to adjust first, even though it won't change the sail. Slide it back as much as you think you need. Now, if you've gone out and practiced, you'll be able to make an educated guess. If you haven't practiced that yet, then your rule of thumb might be -- the stronger the gusts are, the more you should move it back.

Now you have to move the loaded block, and that can be more dangerous. You have two choices.

First choice is to switch to a starboard tack. The problem with that choice is that tacking isn't a lot of fun in rough water and winds that are overpowering your boat. It's not impossible, but make sure there's no one in the cabin and that everyone is secure (they do have PFD's on, right?) After the tack, your starboard sheet will be the "lazy" sheet and you can move the block toward the stern easily.

If tacking seems like a bad idea (whoever works the sheet is going to have to pull hard and fast on the new working line, and the helmsman should watch his or her progress, and not complete the turn until the new working sheet is under control and tight enough), here is how to move the block while the sheet is under load:

Always remember: ONE HAND FOR YOU AND ONE FOR THE BOAT. Don't use both hands doing this in rough water. 

Step firmly on the working jib sheet FORWARD of the block. Keep the tension on that sheet with your foot, hold on to something firm (not just a life line, but a stanchion or cabintop handhold, or bimini frame if it's very secure), and slide the block back. If you have to do this more than once to make sure you are holding on to the boat, so be it. You can do this twice. 

If you have two people on the boat, that second person should be on the helm. You'll be standing on the high side of the boat, and that will make it easier for you to do this.
 
"3. Reef your Sails
Combine the first two actions with sail reefing. One of the great misconceptions in sailing is that reefing is a heavy weather tactic. Nope--it's a balancing tactic. Reef earlier than you think necessary. Reduce or change out the headsail. Tuck a reef or two in to the mainsail. Reefing keeps the boat on her feet and the helm light as a feather."

 If you're going to change your headsail, please be aware of the weather before you are in it, and change the sail before it's actually needed. Changing a headsail can be extremely dangerous in high winds and/or rough water. When a boat is out of balance, the bow bounces around and moves unpredictably. If you slip up and the sail goes into the water, do you know what you have to do? You have to whip out your knife, cut the sail free and let it go, because a sail in the water at the bow can sink a boat. 

So do it while the winds are low.

Another option is to partially furl your roller furler, but understand that if you do that more than a couple of times it will permanently deform your headsail. This is not something covered by insurance, even though it's weather related. The result is that your headsail will always perform more inefficiently, and your boat will slow down some. Well, that's life -- safety first, but if you pay attention to the weather, you may avoid having to use your headsail in this way.

There's a hidden, important message in all of this: how the helm feels may be your best sign of whether it's time to twist the sails, and if that doesn't do the job, to start reefing.

What this all means is that you mustn't be shy about taking your boat out, little by little, in stronger winds than you're used to. If you're used to 10 mph winds, take her out in 15. Sail her on all points of sail. Make judgments about whether your boat needs to be reefed at this point. Some smaller boats probably should be reefed at 15 mph. 

Then take her out at 18 mph, and then 20, etc. Most people are not this methodical (and it's not typical for me, but I realized that sailing was a little more risky for me than some other people, and I just made myself do it. I am now convinced it's a good idea for all newer sailors.)

Three simple tips in that article -- simple for experienced sailors, that is. As you take your boat out for recreational cruises, pick one new skill to practice each time. Then when the ship hits the fan, you'll already know how to execute the excellent tips in that article. 



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Backing into the Slip Revisited

Or, What Did I Just Say -- Practice! It Helps.

I just read a comment elsewhere from someone struggling to back his boat into a slip. His slip is at the far end of the fairway. If he wasn't at the end of the fairway, he could go past his slip and then turn the stern in from a different direction, using prop walk to his advantage instead of having to fight it.

He has a Catalina 30, and most people with that boat want to back in to the slip because it makes boarding the boat much easier from a short fingerdock. But this boat is notorious for backing up very badly. I'm not sure why; I'm not a naval architect. It has a fin keel and a spade rudder, like mine, and mine handles this problem much better. It's not only a problem for Catalina 30's, but I know a number of people with that boat, and they all complain about it.

He says he also has to fight a "slight" wind, and "slight" current.

That says something to me. He is still struggling with basic docking procedures. Because docking makes him nervous, he doesn't want to give the throttle enough power to overcome his "triple threat" -- prop walk, wind, and current.

The solution for him is partly in learning the skills needed, but even more, in practicing the skills needed.

The truth is that sailboat engines are much more efficient in forward than reverse. This means that when you're in reverse, forward is a more efficient brake than vice-versa. You can goose that engine enough to overcome those three factors, get the stern solidly in the slip, then move from neutral to forward and stop the boat before it hits your dock box.

But where do you get the nerve to do that?

By practicing.

If you belong to a sailing club, they probably have racing buoys. Borrow two and take them out into open water. Place them in the water to approximate the entrance to your slip.

Then practice driving the boat in reverse. Practice a lot. Specifically, include giving the boat power in reverse, and then using forward as a brake. Find out exactly how your boat responds to this, trying different speeds in reverse. And practice doing it while facing the stern instead of the bow. Facing the stern can work extremely well, but it is unusual enough that doing it can increase your level of stress, something you really don't need while learning to dock.

One of the hardest stressers to get over when learning to dock is the stress of giving your boat more speed right as you are deliberately aiming it at something hard (the main dock, in my case, a cement one. OUCH if I screw that up!)

This is why I'm writing this blog at this time. I am still new enough to sailing that I remember these fears/concerns/stresses in vivid detail. But even though I'm not an expert sailor, I look like one when I bring my boat into a slip, or dock it at the T-dock by myself, or pull it away from the T-dock by myself -- because I have practiced.

This is no different than playing a violin. Take up the violin by reading a book and never practicing, and you'll sound like a cat with his tail caught in a fan. Practice and you'll sound better. Practice a lot, and you'll get better far more rapidly. The guy who only read the book and never practices will always sound like that screeching cat.

This fellow has no choice. He needs to back into his slip, without hitting anyone else, with three forces working against him -- and that wind won't always be "slight." He really needs to be on top of his game for this maneuver, and he's smart enough to know that, which is why he's nervous.

The answer is to practice in open water until it just doesn't throw him. The first day, do it in light wind, and then repeat it again another day when the wind is stronger.

And get comfortable steering while facing the stern. Where the stern goes, the bow will follow (although just like parking a car, you occasionally have to look in all directions). One of his concerns was that the best approach might be backing up to the slip to begin with, but he doesn't trust his ability to steer the boat in reverse for 300'.

I can relate. I've had that fear.

The answer is simple.

PRACTICE.



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Modification to How I Use My Gale Sail

Or, WHY I Keep Saying Practice is So Important

As I reported before, in my first entry about my Gale Sail, the instructions say to wrap the sheets only once around the sail before raising it.

Well, here's the rub: with my continuous-line roller furler, wrapping the sheets once isn't enough to keep it tightly furled, and if it isn't tightly furled the Gail Sale won't slide up the sail easily. Sometimes it won't slide up it at all.

The sheets also need to hang straight down, and not be secured by being led back to their cockpit-area cleats.

The solution came with the sail. The sail came with a sail tie, to tie up the folded sail and make it easier to slide it into its sail bag. You don't need it for that while the sail is deployed. It has a great advantage over line in that it's flat. I loop it through one of the sheets, counter-wrap the sail a couple of times, pulling tightly so it does not add bulk, tuck it through the sail tie and let it hang down straight.

That holds the sail tight long enough to get the sail up, which is all I need.

Several people have (quite correctly) pointed out to me that installing a second forestay close to the main one could be a great help in a storm. A small hank-on sail can be remarkably easy to deploy -- easier than a Gale Sail, certainly -- and is actually in a better position for storm sails, slightly closer to the mast.

I suddenly had an image in my mind of a boat with a Gale Sail on the roller furler AND a slightly larger storm sail on an inner stay, which with other options, such as a third reefing point, might reallly increase a skipper's options in foul weather.

I don't know if anyone has tried it, and since I'm a coastal cruiser, I would have very limited *real* need of an inner forestay. But if anyone knows of someone who has done this and actually used such a sail plan in foul weather, it would be interesting to hear about it.

We have exactly the weather I got that Gale Sail for in west central Florida right now. I would have taken the boat out in the rising conditions leading up to this if I could have, but I know I will have other opportunities before the winter is over. I'll report back how the sail performs.



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My Excuse Is That I Was Sick ... (with a PS now)

But Mother Nature Doesn't Really Care!


We just got hit by a wall of wind here about 15 minutes ago or so. The boat is rockin' and rollin' -- I love that when I know the boat is secure.

... when I know the boat is secure.

I knew this weather was coming, and as I'm down with something that probably is strep throat, I wasn't really up to a lot of work today. So the bunk didn't get made up, but I secured the deck, checked the lines, and put the tarp up in the cockpit -- it's nice to be able to keep the cabin doors open in bad weather. By the time I'd gone to the store and bought just a few things, I was just exhausted. I napped for several hours and then watched a "Project Runway" marathon.

We had a few bands of rain, but nothing dramatic -- until 15 minutes ago, when we were hit with a wall of wind. I heard the loudest sound of wind whistling through something I've ever heard before, and finally realized that it was the wind whistling through the nearby bridge.

Then it dawned on me: I have this line I usually use to counter-wrap my headsail. Because of the design of my roller furler, it is more likely to unfurl and help the sail flap itself to death than other roller furlers. I've even written about this problem here, and took pictures showing how I counter-wrapped someone else's sail as a storm approached. Simply explained, if the sheets wrap clockwise, I wrap another line around the sail going counter-clockwise. I have a specific line I use for that. I seemed to recall seeing that line somewhere else and not on the roller furler.

Also, as I listened to the wind, I did not remember counter-wrapping the headsail. Now, at first that's not too surprising. I went out of town for Christmas and wasn't likely to remember one random task done before I left. But that was an important random task.

So I went up to the cockpit. To get on deck, I had to cut one zip tie holding the side of the tarp down, but didn't see the scissors anywhere. Well of course I didn't -- it was DARK! Enter the "cockpit box."

My cockpit box, which I'll write about really soon because it just saved my cookies, was where it belonged -- in the cockpit. I know where I keep things in that box, so I was able to put my hands on my rigging knife quickly. Then I opened the top, got out my headlamp, put it on, and avoided cutting off the tip of a finger while removing the zip tie.

I went up to the bow. I had not counter-wrapped the sail -- and it was beginning to unfurl. No kidding. I grabbed a spare sail tie, tightened it around the wrapped sheets as high as I could reach, wrapped it around once, secured it again to the sheets, and wrapped it as much as I could before tying it off securely lower on the wrapped sheets.

The wind has died down significantly in the time it has taken to write this entry, but it could pick up again at any time. So tonight, I will sleep in clothes, not pajamas.

You know, some insurance companies won't insure you if you live on your sailboat. To me, that's crazy. I might not have realized that the headsail had not been been secured if I had not been on the boat when the wind hit. If I had been safe in a house or condo somewhere, even if I'd realized I hadn't checked the sail, it might have unfurled before I got to the boat, and in this wind, and with that roller furler, it would have been quite a job to pull it back in. In other words, if I didn't live on my boat, the insurance company might have gotten a claim for my headsail tomorrow. Live-aboards are more likely to notice when something isn't right.

My excuse for not noticing that the sail wasn't counter-wrapped is that I'm sick. But another time it could be that I'd had one too many glasses of wine, or I that was tired, or that I left the boat without securing her completely, even though I knew weather was coming in. It is possible to see what you expect to see, and it's easy to overlook little things.

The truth is that I should secure that roller furler with a counter-wrap every single time I come in from a sail. This one time I didn't do it, and it could have turned out quite badly.

If you have a spouse or sailing partner, it's easy to divide up tasks so that one person always, say, cleans out the cooler, while the other person, say, secures the headsail. It makes sense to divide and conquer, but i would suggest that every once in a while you trade jobs. If you are always the helmsman, pass it off to your partner once in a while. If you always secure the sails, pass that off to the other person. It may be that you will have to secure the boat for a storm all by yourself one day, and you're far more likely to remember to do things if you've done them before.

* * *

PS: It is now past midnight, and the boat was bumping up against the piling of the dock. The starboard lines, on the windward side of the boat,  had stretched, and had to be tightened. I was already in clothes, got the headlamp out of the cockpit box, tightened the lines, and will now go back to bead, hopefully without further problems to solve.

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My Chart Plotter Problems -- A Happy Ending!

As I have posted here before, I have had ongoing problems with my chart plotter.

I had had intermittent problems with the chartplotter most of the time I owned it. Fortunately I had gotten the extended warranty on it, because I have a good friend for whom that worked out very well.

My chart plotter started randomly turning itself off. Most of the time it was immediately after I had pushed a button, but sometimes I would just glance at it only to see a blank screen. I took it back to West Marine several times, but since the problem was intermittent, it of course never happened in their presence. It wasn't that they didn't believe me at West Marine, but they did need solid evidence, and I understood that. They suggested I try a different cable, but I didn't have the skills to change the cable, and I didn't want the expense of cable and installation when I didn't know whether or not that was the problem.

One day it started insisting that every spot on the planet was at latitude 32º. I'm fairly certain that isn't true, and since that latitude runs through Atlanta, Georgia, I'm pretty sure it's not where I've been sailing, either. Every single waypoint came up listed that way, although its position on the actual chart was accurate.

So I could use waypoints I had already entered, but could not enter any new ones.

This led to a cascade of problems. I really hate cascades of problems.

I took it to the West Marine where I had bought it. They could see that problem, and said it needed a software update, which they said I could get at the Garmin website. I went there only to find that Garmin doesn't support Macintosh.

So I bought a Sandisk and gave it, and the chart plotter, to someone with a PC. He downloaded the software update for me.

I put the Sandisk in the chartplotter, which told me the Sandisk was blank.

So I took it back to the PC guy and he had no trouble finding the software on the disk.

Back I went to West Marine, and then they told me that my Sandisk was too big -- 32 GB. The chart plotters have trouble reading any that are bigger than 16 GB. Oy vey. Eye roll.

For some reason, the chart plotter then began producing accurate latitudes again. What??? But it continued to randomly turn itself off.

So, on December 20 of last year, I again took the chart plotter back to the West Marine I bought it at (instead of the one that was now closer to where now I keep my boat). I had tried another chart plotter on the cable, and that one never turned off. Clearly the problem was with the chart plotter and not the cable.

They told me (are you ready?) that my extended warranty had expired December 15.

D'oh!

Then they did something that assures that I will never trash-talk West Marine again. They said, "Yes, it's technically out of warranty, but you have been bringing this chart plotter back over and over with the same problem, and we know that. Here's your new chart plotter." They handed me a brand new 441S right out of the box.

There's two very specific things I did that helped bring about this outcome. First, I always took the chart plotter back to the store where I originally purchased it. Because of that, they were aware of all the times I had brought it in. I didn't have to convince them that this had been an ongoing problem.

Second, I was never angry or rude to them. I knew they were right, that it might be the cable, and although it was very frustrating that Garmin does not support Macintoshes, this was not West Marine's fault.

Yes, I know. You can buy stainless steel screws cheaper elsewhere. I know you can get a lot of things on line cheaper, and sometimes I do that. However, the people at West Marine were perfectly willing to help me with the most basic things I didn't know when I first started out. That staff doesn't come for free, and neither does the building it's all housed in. A real-time, physical store front has a variety of expenses that an online site won't have -- mortgage or rent for multiple sites across the country, insurance (including flood insurance in Florida, and that's a HUGE bill here), utilities, staff costs, maintenance of equipment such as computers and cash registers -- all of these expenses are less for on-line businesses. Those online businesses didn't go in business for our convenience -- they did it because it's cheaper.

I'm not saying we should never shop online. I'm just saying that West Marine had to pay the staff who worked with me through this problem, and they had to pay them multiple times to do that without bringing in any money in return, but they still did it cheerfully and to the best of their ability. And they did know their product. They had to pay all their other overhead without making a penny on me every single time. If I pay more for a screw at WM, that's OK with me, because they have someone there to make sure I get the right one, and I need that help.

Kudos to West Marine for stepping up.

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Ramp Your Skills and Experience Up Quickly!

Or, "What? This is a GREAT day to sail!"

Ever since I first started sailing, I had set myself a goal to sail every day for a week. I had no particular reason to set that goal except that I thought it would be fun and a bit of a feather in my cap.

It actually took several years to pull it off, even after I moved onto this boat. You'd think seven days of good weather would be easy to find in Florida, but we'd have two good days, and then the winds would pick up, or die down, or we'd have a low tide that would make it tricky to get the boat out of the marina. All sorts of things.

Then I joined a MeetUp group. This group connected people who had boats with people who wanted to sail. So I picked the best weather window I could spot, and started inviting people to sail. That was what did it, because I had made commitments to people who would be very disappointed if the sail were cancelled.

I did not sail seven, but eight days in a row, sailing with different people every day.

I learned something remarkable. I had, without realizing it, picked rather narrow parameters regarding when I wanted to sail. If the waves were too high from a previous storm, I wouldn't take the boat out. If the winds were over 15 mph I thought twice as my roller "furler" can't partially furl. I could always find reasons to not sail that day. But with these commitments, we went out anyway. We went out in 4' waves. We went out when the winds were up to 20 mph. We went out when the winds were 5 - 7 mph.

I learned more about sailing that week than I had in the previous year, because I had challenged myself to accept slightly more challenging conditions. My boat isn't going to sink in 4' waves, but she handles differently. That's no surprise ... but I hadn't actually *done* it.

I took a bit of ribbing at the end of the eight days, because on the eighth day I got myself in a bit of a mess and ended up with a bent rudder shaft. I can't count the ninth day as sailing, because we were towed back -- with no steering, in rough water. It was hard on us and even harder on the poor guy piloting the towboat as we jerked from port to starboard to port behind his boat in rough water.

But in thinking about it, I realized that a lot of people who belong to my club are sailing a lot if they take their boats out four times a year. I bet a lot of them are doing what I was doing -- skipping a sail unless things were perfect.

Set yourself a goal like that -- maybe more modest, since most people have to balance their sailing with work and family commitments. Aim for three days (barring severe storms -- don't go sailing out into dangerous weather just because you said you would!) -- Leave on Friday, anchor or stay at a different marina, sail again on Saturday, and return home Sunday.

It's a lot of work, to have a boat ready to go out several days in a row, but the rewards are worth it. If you can't set a string of days, think about what your preferred parameters are, and change them a little. I was astounded the day I put a smaller headsail on my little Irwin, reefed the main, and took her out in 20 mph. She sailed like a little cream puff. Set to handle the winds, it was just no big deal.

Stretch yourself. Don't let yourself get set in a rut. You'll learn things.

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