Living On Your Boat Part Time

Living on one's boat isn't going to be most people's cup of tea. Limited space for clothes, no space for an ironing board, and no washer/dryer make simple tasks like dressing for work complicated. Mundane things have to be planned carefully, especially if your boat is on the hook.

And yet ... it can be so wonderful.

I got an 8 X 10 tarp (heavy duty) at Wal-Mart. I tied one end to the ends of my traveler, and I tie/bungee the other end to the Bimini frame. The sides hang down enough to keep all rain out of the great majority of the cockpit. It reminds me of tent-camping.

The night before last, my cat and I sat at the edge of the tarp, watching the rain fall, watching the storm clouds form and move on to be replaced by other storm clouds. The lightning displays were awe-inspiring. It was peaceful and cozy. I do have a fan under the tarp with us, so it doesn't get too stuffy.

It was a delightful experience, but only worth the trouble if you're going to spend the night on the boat. And to top it off, now I have another option for people to sleep on my boat on a trip, because I tried it -- I stayed dry. I folded up the edge of the tarp so the the fold went to the outside, and it channeled ALL the water ... to the scuppers. It's just a matter of having the right sized tarp for your boat.

If I hadn't moved aboard my boat, I never would have had seen the extended and phenomenal experience of bioluminescence in the water. Bioluminescence occurs when small algae that glow in the dark rapidly explode in numbers. I don't think marine scientists know why it happens, but it only happens occasionally in Boca Ciega Bay. In the little place I stayed, Pasadena Marina, the algae exploded into a fantastic bloom during the summer of 2102. When the water is disturbed, the algae get agitated and glow a beautiful, deep, neon aqua that can only seen to be believed.

This bloom started in early August and lasted well into October. At its peak, when you looked at little white caps on the water at noon, you could actually see the phenomenon. Water can sparkle in the sunlight, but this was like sparkling liquid diamonds. At night, you could jump into the water, and make "angels in the snow," only it was "angels in the algae." These algae have no harmful effects on humans, but don't jump into a marina to do this. Marina water isn't always the cleanest, and in addition, the most vicious shark on the planet, the bull shark, seems to like to hang around docks. So don't take foolish risks -- take your boat out of the marina, anchor, and give it a try.

ALWAYS leave one person on the boat, and make absolutely certain you have a good, long ladder so people will have no trouble getting back aboard.

Stay anchored out for the night. Spend a night or two on your boat.

At night it can be tricky to know whether your anchor is dragging or not, so here's an easy trick: use your MOB (Man Overboard) button to mark where you set the anchor. That will give you an easy reference for how far you might have dragged. Most chart plotters also have anchor alarms, but test it to make sure you can hear it.

I tried to photograph the bioluminescence and failed miserably, so here's a site where you can see this amazing sea event. Critters glowing below you; incredible displays of stars above you, not washed out by civilization's lights -- it just doesn't get much better than that.

Try this site to get some idea of what bioluminescence looks like:

http://biobay.com/

The bioluminescence isn't usually that intense in the St. Pete area, but it was in the southern end, at least, of Boca Ciega Bay, last summer. You'll never know the wonders you miss if you never spend the night on your boat.

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IMPROVEMENTS YOUR BOAT MAY NEED

June 18, 2013

     Or, She looked so perfect when I fell in love with her!

You are primed to come up with a creative solution.

Fortune cookie

When I first got the boat I have now, it was all good. I liked the boat, I was learning to sail her, the cats and I had settled in well to living aboard.

Then the engine started overheating.

“Diesel engines last forever,” more experienced friends assured me. “It’s just about impossible to kill a diesel engine.” The key words there were “just about.” Any engine can be killed if the owner tries hard enough.

But it wasn’t me who had caused the problem. It was the owner before me. In the end, it seems that he had completely neglected to keep zincs on the shaft and engine. Since the engine was salt-water cooled, it required zincs in three places – on the propeller, and in two places on the engine. This is necessary because salt water is a decent carrier of electrical current and because electrolysis, the process that causes corrosion. On iron and some kinds of steel, corrosion results in rust. On bronze, corrosion results in surface pitting, and eventually, honeycombing of the bronze. The bronze turns pink and eventually breaks quite easily. I’ll come back to that in another entry.

Zinc corrodes more easily than either steel or bronze. By placing pieces of zinc at critical places, such as the propeller shaft and the engine block, the electrolysis attacks the zinc, protecting the boat parts. The zinc, however, gradually dissolves away, requiring replacement.

I just didn’t know enough about boats to see the warning signs, and very importantly, I didn’t get an engine survey done. I didn’t know to, unfortunately. I believe a good, certified marine mechanic would have spotted the warning signs.

I bought the boat in November. The following April I felt I had learned the boat well enough to take a longer trip, and left with a couple of other boats from the club to take a longer cruise. All was fine until I needed the engine to bring the sails in. The engine rapidly overheated. I had no idea why the engine was overheating and felt that the longer trip was a bad idea. We returned home.

Then the hunt began to figure out what was wrong with the engine.  I read up on engine problems, and I consulted my sailboat gurus. One of the things immediately pointed out to me was that the exhaust pipe for my boat was below the water. This was a problem because your exhaust can tell you a lot about what’s going on with your engine.

See the picture of my boat’s stern below, where you will clearly see the exhaust pipe above the waterline. That’s where it should be. Your exhaust can tell you a number of things. For instance, when you start the engine, you can immediately see whether or not the engine is pumping water. One day I forgot to open the seacock bringing salt water into the engine for cooling, and it was obvious immediately, because no water was pumping out the exhaust. While the exhaust pipe was below the water line I couldn't watch for that.

In addition, if you’re having engine problems the color of the exhaust can help with diagnosis. But significantly, this boat blew steam about 30 seconds before the overheat alarm went off. Since it was overheating a lot, that was important.

I had a boat with ill-defined problems, but I couldn’t see steam, and I couldn’t see the color of the exhaust.

It didn’t cost much to have the exhaust pipe moved. Although I was not able to save that old engine, with a new one in the boat I feel much better being able to see the exhaust.

It’s not a common situation, but if your engine’s exhaust is below the waterline, you should consider having it moved. Make sure it’s moved by someone who knows exactly what he is doing. You don’t want salt water backing up into your engine. 

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How to Single-Hand Your Boat in a Pinch

     Or, "Do you really think it's sprained? You can't help me tack this thing???"

One person, two sails – how do you do that, exactly? Remember, this blog isn’t for highly seasoned sailors who are looking for tricks to get every last tenth of a knot out of their boat in a race. This is just basic sailing tips for newer sailors.

It may be that you intend to never sail your boat by yourself. I have heard many newer sailors say that – that they aren’t confident enough to sail by themselves. They “never” single-hand.

At least, that’s their plan, but reality sometimes has a way of messing up our plans. Suppose your sailing companion sprains his ankle? What if he sprains his ankle, you’re five hours from port and you’re low on fuel?

You really should know how to manage the boat by yourself, which really means how one person can control two sails.

Here’s the big tip: the headsail does most of the work when you tack. This means that you can leave the mainsail to its own devices while you handle the headsail. However, you don’t want the boom swinging over whenever physics decides it’s time. So, here’s what to do.

First of all, build up some speed, sailing close to your no-go zone. If you can see the shore, spot something that is at the starting edge of the no-go zone and something that is where you expect the end of the no-go zone to be. In the graphic below, the fat black arrow represents the wind direction, and the pink area is the “no go” zone, where the boat is too close to the direction of the wind to sail. If you stay in that area, the boat will slow dramatically, and eventually, fall off back into the wind, or if it continues toward the direction of the wind, stop.

Bring the mainsail in nearly to center and lock it off. Have your winch handle out and near what will be the new working jib winch.

Have both port and starboard sheets ready, one ready to be loosened and the other ready to be tightened.

Turn the boat through the no-go zone. Watch two things in particular: where the clew of the headsail is, and where your estimated end of the no-go-zone is. Loosen the previously working sheet completely, and be ready to pull the new working sheet in.

As the clew swings across the front of the boat and the sail begins to fill on the new tack, pull in the new working sheet as efficiently as possible so you’re not pulling in a heavily-loaded sheet. 

Don't forget to end your turn! That's why you spotted the other side of the "no-go" zone. Lots of people have ended up going in a circle when trying this for the first time. No matter -- just do it again, and tell the guy with the sprained ankle to stop being a back-seat driver already!

When you have the headsail over on the new tack and not luffing, lock it off. Now release the mainsheet and let it move over.

You will probably have to tweak both sails, but by controlling them one at a time, tacking (or jybing) can be managed by one person. If you’re gybing instead of tacking, the steps are the same except that you can move through a jybe more slowly, because there is no “no-go” zone in a gybe.

If for some reason you can’t manage the tack, just do a gybe for 270º. You'll come out in the right direction. It isn’t hard. You can do this.

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Source for graphic: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/4b/Points_of_sail.svg/300px-Points_of_sail.svg.png&imgrefurl=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Points_of_sail&h=300&w=300&sz=29&tbnid=HRpPHA2QBKhaPM:&tbnh=91&tbnw=91&zoom=1&usg=__0C0bFzDNXCYiMo60T843yNcte04=&docid=B_dastTk9kJ-4M&sa=X&ei=NbeaUZK0NIjo8gT8mYHgCQ&ved=0CEAQ9QEwAg&dur=9913

Oh Dorothy, is That Your House Spinning Above Me?

     Or, What is Boca Ciega Bay doing in Kansas?

_______

May 20, 2013

     People who make no mistakes lack boldness and the spirit of adventure.” 

Norman Vincent Peale

I woke up that Friday morning, anchored out, because something didn’t feel right. I looked out the port to see all 360º of Boca Ciega Bay passing by my view, as if I were a camera panning in a circle. Huh??

I stepped into the cockpit, and sure enough, the boat was slowly spinning. It did two complete circles that I’m aware of. Then the squall hit.

I hadn’t planned on anchoring out the day before. I had picked up my new rudder; the old one lay on the ground at the club. A friend was going to use my dinghy and outboard to “tugboat” me and my boat out to deeper water in Boca Ciega Bay so he could install the new rudder. Meanwhile, I had no mechanism to steer.

Unfortunately we got a late start. Using my dinghy and outboard as a tugboat, he was able to get my boat away from the club’s transient dock easily enough, but the wind had begun to build, and with my boat’s relatively high freeboard, there was too much wind to move my boat where she needed to be, even with a second dinghy with small motor helping.

Since I lived on the boat, my friend said, “No problem! Just put your anchor down, and spend the night out here. In the morning I’ll come back and we’ll get that rudder in.”

That made more sense than trying to steer my boat back to the transient dock when we already knew the wind was a significant problem, so I put the hook down. I put out an 8:1 rode, including 30 feet of chain, and marked the location on the GPS. I checked the GPS several times throughout the afternoon and into the evening, and the anchor seemed well set. The boat hadn’t moved.

But here was the problem: normally I would have checked the weather before anchoring out. I should have done it this time: the wind was building because a front was on the way.

By the next morning, that front had arrived, and was forming squalls so fast that a weather report 15 minutes old was too old. I used my cell phone and could see that the squall over me was going to move away quickly, but I could also see that other squalls were popping up all over the place, and that this one would probably not be the only one. With an engine but no steering, I really had no choice but to stay where I was.

According to the chart plotter, I had already dragged about 100 feet. Fortunately the boat had stopped spinning and pointed back into the wind again. However, all I had to do was look at the shore around me to see that I was still dragging. Then I would feel the boat lurch as the anchor re-set itself. “Oh, good,” I thought … but then she would drag again. Meanwhile there was the mystery: why had the boat been spinning when I woke up?

I dragged about 500 feet during the fifteen-minute squall, stopping temporarily and moving again. Although the bay has a number of anchored boats, fortunately I wasn’t in their paths. Also fortunately, my boat had so far avoided the nearby shallows. When that storm had passed, I called my friend and told him what was going on. He said he would come right out.

There was only one thing we could realistically do, and that was to let out more rode. With no boats nearby, we let out about 50’ more feet of rode, right before the next squall hit. At least I wasn’t alone this time, and letting out more rode helped: we only dragged about 100 feet this time, but any more drag and I would be in shallow water for the next squall. I called EC-SAR (Eckard College Search and Rescue) and told them my predicament, and they came right away.

The solution was easy: they would hip-tow me to the club’s transient dock, not far away at all. They tied two of their giant, round fenders to my boat, and were 90% done tying us up together when they got another radio call.

“No time to explain!” they said as they rapidly untied my boat. “But we will be back for you!” They raced off to the southwest toward the bridges leading to Tampa Bay, leaving their fenders on my boat.

The next squall wasn’t as fierce, and the boat didn’t drag. About 90 minutes after EC-SAR had left, they came back, tied our boats together, helped me raise the anchor, and brought me back to the transient dock. What had called them away? Someone had seen a man floating in the water, obviously alive but passing toward the Gulf under the Skyway Bridge. The fisherman had waded just a little too far out into the water while fishing on the east side of the Skyway Bridge, got caught in a current, and ended up being swept out of Tampa Bay into the Gulf. EC-SAR went out to the mouth of Tampa Bay, rapidly found the man, and evaluated his medical condition. The man declined further medical help, so they brought him back to his fishing companion (who had not noticed that he was missing), and returned to rescue my boat.

Afterwards, several knowledgeable people and I put our heads together. The only conclusion we could come up with was that a waterspout must have been forming over my boat, causing it to spin. Spinning several times fouled the claw anchor by wrapping chain around the shank. It would loosen, drag, and catch, but eventually release again because it was still fouled.

LESSON LEARNED: Always have a second anchor ready to deploy. I had just lost my spare anchor and had not replaced it yet. Although I hadn’t determined the reason why, I knew my primary anchor wasn’t holding. If I had had a second anchor ready to put out, as my boat dragged the second one would have set. It might have been enough to stop the boat, or at least significantly slow it. I was just lucky that I was so close to good help when all this happened.

Have at least two anchors, and have them both ready to go to work.

I’m going to divide my anchor locker to make deployment of both anchors easier.

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OUT OF THE BATHTUB! (Part 3)

     Or, The buck stops here!

______

May 18, 2013

     “The chance of mistakes are about equal to the number of crew squared."

Ted Turner

Tom and I were in a bit of a pickle, in waters way too rough for either our experience or the boat’s size and equipment, and with multiple things going wrong. I had friends who had attempted something extremely dangerous trying to help us. It was time to take definitive action, and I called for Boat US on channel 16 to come and get us (they had us switch to channel 68), which at least ended attempts by crew from other boats to somehow climb onto ours. While a pair of experienced hands might have been helpful, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that we were overpowered for those winds and waves. Our most fundamental problem would still be there. I was also very concerned that if we lost steering, the waves would push us into the shallows, where the boat could get quite damaged.

Boat US recognized that we were potentially in serious trouble, and said they would make us their top priority, and get there as soon as possible. I told them what our new sail plan was. They called us every five minutes for updates of our latitude and longitude, which a handheld GPS provided (two boats from BCYC stayed near us, and if our GPS had malfunctioned, they could have provided that information also –- sailing with another boat can be quite helpful in a variety of ways.) Boat US warned me that because of the conditions, I might have only one chance to catch the tow rope. I looked at the skinny, bouncing bow, not relishing the idea of going back up there for a one-handed catch.

However, Boat US wasn’t the first “Help Boat” to arrive. I looked up to see a boat pounding toward us. It was from EC-SAR –- Eckard College Search and Rescue. Eckard College, a small school in South Pasadena, FL, runs a co-curricular search and rescue program staffed by highly trained, dedicated and brave students. I looked at them in surprise and said, “Boat US is coming for us.”

“We know,” was the reply. “We’re here because we heard them tell you that you would have to go to the bow to catch the tow rope. We’re here to fish you out if you fall in.” Boy, was I glad to hear that!

Well, Boat US did find us; I did catch the tow rope, I didn’t fall into the water, and the team from EC-SAR waved goodbye and scooted away to help someone else in trouble in those messy seas.

When we were under tow and safe, Tom went below to check out what the other two “thumps” were. I think he already had an idea.

The first thump had been his backpack rolling off the V-berth on to the floor. The second thump was the porta-potty, which flipped itself over the bungee cord and spilled its contents –- on to Tom’s back pack!

LESSONS LEARNED:

FIRST: So far I’ve only talked about what I did right that day, but I made several mistakes, one of them a “no excuse” goof: I did not decide for myself whether, when and where I should be sailing my boat. I should have checked the weather reports myself. Twin Dolphin Marina had a computer for guests, and the information was available to me. Instead, I entrusted that decision to “more experienced” sailors in the group. The problem with that is that they made the decision to sail based on their experience and their boats –- not mine.

If I had seen the wind and wave prediction, I would have done two things. First, I would have put Tom on someone else’s boat to go home, as he had to get to work on Monday, and second, I would have stayed at Twin Dolphin until the wind died down and the waves decreased (waves will continue to be riled up for some time after weather has settled down). I didn’t even have to know all that. If I’d asked questions of the other sailors about the next day’s forecast, the answer would have been enough to raise alarm bells in me. The staff at Twin Dolphin could have advised me.

I would have had to bring the boat back by myself (although someone from the club might have been willing to make the half-hour drive to accompany me back), and I could have gone back up the “ditch” along the Skyway Bridge, a much more sheltered sail than along the west coast of Florida.

Another option, had we had a little more experience, would have been to reef at the dock before leaving. However, if we had done that, I might not have realized how inadequate my reefing plan was for a while.

SECOND: As we left to sail south on Saturday, I told Tom we could “co-skipper” the boat, since we had similar levels of experience. But when things get bad, one person has to be the skipper, and typically that would be the owner of the boat (I would have had no problem turning the helm over to an experienced sailor in this situation, but we didn’t have someone like that on board). Our agreement on Saturday made it harder for me to assert myself as skipper on Sunday when most of the trouble occurred. My personal opinion is that if it’s your boat, you have to do the scary stuff. Tom wanted to go up to the bow both times it was necessary, but I felt that I had gotten us into the predicament we were in, and that I was obligated to do the dangerous stuff if I was able to.

THIRD: I let someone with inadequate skills work on my boat. If I had asked around the club, I would have found out that the fellow who “installed” the gas tank and the porta-potty didn’t exactly have the best reputation for quality work.

FOURTH: I did not check the work done on my boat the day before. Even the best, most reliable people can make serious mistakes (see my story, “Your Boat Could Sink! Really!” for an example of that).

FIFTH: I did not double-check information I was given about my boat. If I had asked virtually anyone at the club about my so-called “reefing system,”  each sailor would have pointed out the obvious risk and encouraged me to install a better one, something I did more or less immediately after getting back from this trip.

I DID DO SOME THINGS RIGHT: I studied the chart before sailing. I moved the boat away from the lee shore (over the protests of my crew). I took steps to keep the boat from rounding up so easily. I had a knife tied to my pants, which meant I couldn’t drop it overboard while freeing the headsail. I went forward to the bow prepared to do everything necessary to deal with the sail (bungee cord). I refused to allow a dangerous attempt at boarding my boat. And, importantly, I had towing insurance. While EC-SAR will sometimes tow disabled boats in, they are a search and rescue organization, not a towing service. If someone else had called them with lives on the line, they would have released me, as protecting people is their priority (see tomorrow’s story, “Oh, Dorothy!” for an example of how they do that.)

The major lesson learned was that you are the skipper of your boat –- and that with that comes responsibilities. Study the weather reports yourself. Be prepared to make hard decisions, such as not to sail –- or to not follow the advice of well-meaning crew. Tom, not realizing the danger, was having fun as the boat repeatedly attempted to broach, which is why he did not want to spill the sails. In addition he had not studied a chart of the area, so even if he had realized what the boat was trying to do, he might not have recognized that the “lee shore” shallows at that spot (off Bunce’s Pass) extend far out into the water.

Even more experienced sailors may overlook something you believe to be a significant problem. Or, they may engage in wishful thinking (“Oh, that won’t be a problem!”) These things are not for the crew to decide, although you should listen to what others think when there’s time to do so. But ultimately, it’s your boat and your insurance on the line, and you are responsible for the lives of those on your boat.

By the way, it turned out that the nuts on the bolt holding the tiller to the rudder mechanism were loose. They were easily accessible and easily tightened, but it took two monkey wrenches, and I only had one on board. Sometimes having extra tools is not a bad thing.

In addition, I put netting on the front of the boat after our return. If we had managed to drop the sail from the cockpit, the sail could easily have been blown off that tiny bow into the water – where it would have filled with water and created a true crisis. Make sure you can control your sails when they come down.

EC-SAR is a phenomenal organization. If you live or sail along the central Florida coast or Boca Ciega Bay, you should have their phone number on your boat: (727) 864-8288.  Also see their website at http://www.eckerd.edu/waterfront/ecsar/.  

After EC-SAR has come out to help me, which they have in  a highly skilled way more than once, I always give them a generous donation (whatever cash I have with me). Both times, they helped protect me and my boat from serious harm in a remarkably well-coordinated and efficient way. 



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OUT OF THE BATHTUB! (Part 2)

     Or, you can really learn a lot in one eventful day.

_______

may 17, 2013

     "Any fool can carry on, but a wise man knows how to shorten sail in time."-

Joseph Conrad

Fairly rapidly, a number of things went wrong. Silver Girl would sail up the waves fairly well, ride the crest, plunge down to the bottom, and in the troughs, get seriously overpowered. With too much wind in the sails, she would try to turn sideways and round up. She was trying to broach, something not covered in our 4-week sailing class. We were managing to keep her somewhat under control, and Tom was having fun, but Tom wasn’t responsible for the boat’s safety, and he didn’t pay the insurance. He also hadn’t read Sailing for Dummies, but I had, and I recognized that we were in more trouble than he realized. For instance, I knew that an 8’ wide boat should not be taking 5’ waves abeam. As I found out, Tom also had not studied a chart of the area. Fortunately I had, so I knew we were slowly moving closer to shore at a very shallow area that had a crashing surf.

In an attempt to get Silver Girl more under control, I tried to reduce our sails. Unfortunately I had been previously convinced that the “reefing system” on this boat was adequate. It turns out that by  “adequate” my advisor was endorsing a system that consisted of two loose pieces of line stored in the cockpit. The idea was that you lowered the sail, passed the line through the reefing cringle, and tied it under the boom. This would have to be done manually, at both ends, while standing where the boom could hit you. The person who assured me that this system was adequate also recommended reefing at the dock, but we hadn’t done that. Because of the tack we were on, a slight wind shift could have caused the boom to swing into the person doing the reefing, and the wind was very unpredictable between the big waves. Tom and I both concluded that it wasn’t safe to use this so-called “reefing system.”

Meanwhile, Tom and I disagreed about the seriousness of the situation, and so the first (and second) time I asked him to spill the sails at the bottom of the waves to depower the sail … he declined. That’s right. He said “No.”

In fairness to Tom, I brought this on myself, as you’ll see at the end. We had a couple of discussions about this as we rolled and tossed about. Meanwhile, as the boat swung wildly around, first the gas can broke loose and bounced across the cavity under the cockpit, and then we heard other noises of something else flying free. The same person had installed both items the day before, and in my excitement over getting the boat ready for a two-day sail, I hadn’t checked his work. Apparently he thought that setting the gas tank on a shelf with rubber-gripping shelf paper, without straps, was enough to hold it in place, while putting one bungee across the head opening was, to him, enough to restrain something else just as heavy.

Neither worked. Tom and I saw the fuel hose pull out of the outboard and heard the thump, and looked into the space under the cockpit. The gas tank wasn’t leaking, but we both felt that whoever tried to retrieve it might easily suffer either a concussion or a broken arm because of the way the boat was bouncing around. So we had no engine. We heard yet another thump toward the bow, but we had our hands full in the cockpit and neither of us could go below to check.

Having finally convinced Tom that the boat was overpowered, and realizing that reefing wasn’t a good plan, we decided to reduce the windage by bringing the headsail down. Silver girl had a downhaul, and we tried dropping the headsail from the cockpit. Unfortunately the leech line was loose, and it got tangled on a stanchion. The headsail was now stuck half up and down, misshapen and uncontrollable. So I stuck a bungee cord in my pocket, crawled to the bow, cut the leech line with a knife, pulled the sail down, and secured it to stanchions with the bungee. That actually helped a little. That was good; we needed the help! It was very scary on that skinny little bow bouncing around while I tried to wrestle the headsail into compliance, and I was relieved to get back to the cockpit. But not for long.

“Feel the tiller,” Tom said to me. “It doesn’t feel right to me.” I felt it, and it didn’t feel right to me either. It felt … loose. We didn’t know if it was the tiller or the rudder, but neither could be good, and we were still being pushed toward the shore. Again, Sailing for Dummies had taught me well, and I knew to stay away from the shore. Again, there was another disagreement and discussion, but it was my boat, and I turned her toward Yucatan.

Meanwhile, another club boat was sailing closer and closer to us. They wanted to try to put one of their crew on my boat in this five-foot rolling sea. The man was already climbing over the stern rail of the boat he was on. At that point I drew a line in the sand, and said “No. It’s not safe. I’m steering her to deeper water, and we’re calling Boat US.” I think the man who had volunteered for this was a little offended, but it just wasn’t a good idea. Tom did not like the idea of our sailing away from shore, but I knew we had to get away from the shallows. I also knew we could handle the waves better. I steered the boat until she was angling into the waves as well as away from shore. She rode much better this way than taking those big waves on the stern, and cut through the waves reasonably well.

However, I made several mistakes, one of them a very big one that led to all the others. Can you guess what it was? Check in tomorrow for the finale!

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OUT OF THE BATHTUB! (Part 1)

     Or, The Adventures of Silver Girl!

_______

may 17, 2013

     "Whenever your preparations for the sea are poor, the sea worms its way in and finds the problems."

Francis Stokes

This is going to be a three-part story. Tomorrow I will post all the things that went wrong on the way back, and then finally, the mistakes I made that you should avoid, including one really big one.

We were on the way to Twin Dolphin Marina in Bradenton from Boca Ciega Yacht Club (BCYC). In fairness, it was really a shake-down cruise for my first little boat, a 25’ Irwin “skinny mini” (only 8’ wide) named Silver Girl. It was May, and I had bought her the previous November -- one month after finishing 4 weeks of sailing lessons at Boca Ciega Yacht Club. I had, as crew, a man from my sailing class. So we had two pretty inexperienced people on a tiny tippy-cup of a boat.

“Don’t worry,” other people in the club said. “We’re only going to Twin Dolphin, and besides – you’ll be with us!” It was very comforting to know other club boats would be with us, because I had never left Boca Ciega Bay before. Sailing on Boca Ciega Bay was lots of fun but much like sailing on a small lake. Neither the boat nor I had really been tested, so this would be the boat’s first “shake down cruise.”

My friend, who I will call Tom, and I were quite excited. He hadn’t sailed out of Boca Ciega Bay yet either. As we moved down the ditch along Sunshine Skyway Bridge, we hooted and hollered: “We’re out of the bathtub, baby!” Never mind that we had to motor most of the way. We were out where the big kids sail!

The trip to Bradenton, which involved crossing the mouth of Tampa Bay, was uneventful except for docking. Somewhere on the trip down, the outboard engine dropped a rod, and it would no longer go into reverse. After a lot of struggle, we got the boat into a slip, but it was the wrong slip. The dock personnel at Twin Dolphins helped us turn the boat around, get it into our slip, and turn her around again so I would only need forward to leave. “Oh, well,” I thought. “Worse things could go wrong.” 

Worse things were going to go wrong the next day on the trip home.

The next morning we were the fifth club boat out of the marina. Tom and I were sailing in the Manatee River, a lovely run along the south bank. The wind was probably about 15 mph from the southwest. Us both being beginners, we didn’t realize that the land on the south side of the river was shielding us from some of the wind … until the very experienced boat out front radioed back to the rest of us: “We’re at the mouth of the river, and it’s actually pretty rough out here!”

I called back to the other boats. “This is a small boat,” I said. “Are you sure we should even be out here?”

“Don’t worry,” the call came back. “You’re with us!”

That was a comfort. The wind picked up to over 20 mph as we left the shelter of the river’s shore, and Tom and I could both see why it was rougher on the Gulf. As it turns out, though, “Don’t worry, you’re with us” is not quite the same as “Don’t worry, you’re both experienced sailors and your boat is plenty big enough for these seas…”. We had five foot waves on the port stern corner of the boat.

Tom and I rapidly discovered that neither of us get seasick easily, which was a good thing, because we needed our wits about us. The other boats had decided to return via Pass-A-Grille Channel rather than “the ditch.” This meant that we would be sailing along the west coast of the Pinellas Peninsula, with the open Gulf to our port side, instead of in the relatively sheltered water along the Skyway Bridge. Our route put the beach on our lee side. But in order to go up the ditch ourselves, the only other choice, we would have had to leave the rest of the group and sail across Tampa Bay to the northeast alone, in more wind and waves than we had ever experienced. We decided it was better to stay with the group.

As with every decision, that one had its pros and cons …

Stay tuned for the next thrilling chapter of “The Adventures of Silver Girl!”