Mooring Options

I am in the midst of Spring Break this week.  Here, on the south coast of Massachusetts along upper Buzzards Bay, we have had several days of glorious weather.  Most of the snow and ice has melted, although nightly frosts remain the norm for now.  But the song birds are starting to return, and my feeders by the kitchen windows have been very busy.  In fact, I will have to refill them today. The fair weather and sunshine has also made it difficult not to think about the boat, as spring draws near.  I still have plenty of work to do, both on the boat and for the boat.  Yet I am hoping to get it in the water sooner rather than later.

Yesterday, being Spring Equinox, I headed into town in the hopes of securing a mooring.  I never really gave any consideration to the town harbor, much less to joining the local yacht club (whose dress code requires a collar shirt at all times).  Marion harbor is a spectacularly dense forest a masts in the summer.  Though picturesque, it is crowded with large and expensive boats and there is a waiting list for slips and moorings.  My preference is for something a little quieter, and closer to home.  The O'Day draws 2'3" of water when its centerboard is raised (and 5'4" with it lowered), which means it can negotiate shallower areas that are inaccessible to larger keel boats.

There were two specific options I was considering.  Both were close to home (the area of the red box), and both opened to the southeast.  While still exposed to wind and waves, each was somewhat sheltered by peninsular headlands from the prevailing southwesterly winds characteristic of Buzzards Bay.

Upper Buzzards Bay and the approaches to the Cape Cod Canal.  The town of Marion is located on the west (left) shore.  Two mooring options under consideration were on the Weweantic River (Mooring A) and in Wings Cove (Mooring B).

One available spot was at Wings Cove ('Mooring B'), about a mile from the house, where the boat had been moored by my friend, the previous owner.  That old mooring was available, and my friend urged me to take it.  His newer boat is also moored at Wings Cove, although much farther out in deeper water.  In considering a mooring location, he advised me to think about how long I would have to motor out from a mooring before I could raise sail.

The other spot, on the Weweantic River ('Mooring A'), was offered to me by my next-door neighbor, who used to moor a powerboat there.  This location was much closer to home -- easy walking distance -- and came with access to a dock where I could tie-up a dinghy (the Wings Cove location has a dinghy rack).  I have kayaked off that dock, both upriver and down to the open bay.  While the current can be a factor under certain conditions, the small mooring field is somewhat sheltered from the river by some exposed rocks to the north, making its waters are relatively calm.

Mooring site B, on the Weweantic River, off Dexter's dock.  Great location, but lots of rocks.  Will river current be an issue?

The mooring was very close to the dock.  Whereas at Wings Cove it might take upwards of ten or fifteen minutes to prep the dinghy and motor out to the sailboat, here the boat was close enough to swim.  The idea of mooring on a river appealed to me.  I also hoped that the freshwater current might impede the growth of marine life on the bottom of both sailboat and dinghy.  There are, however, a lot of rocks in that area, and those hazards make this site arguably a bit trickier than Wings Cove.  Yet once out in the channel and clear of Cromeset Point, I should be able to raise sail long before I clear Great Hill.

Mooring B off Dexter's dock

My neighbor also offered me his old mooring tackle, which includes a 250-lb. mushroom anchor, fifteen feet of half-inch US Long Link 43 chain, fifteen feet of 3/8-inch US hot galvanized 43 chain, shackles, swivel, an eighteen-inch mooring buoy, a 5/8-inch three-strand rope pendant, and a pickup buoy, as well as an inflatable dinghy.  It is good to have great neighbors.

Yesterday, to celebrate the Rites of Spring, I paid a courtesy call on the town Harbormaster and filed my application for a mooring ($15 application fee, $60 "personal fee," and $92 in per-foot-fees: total: $167).  There was no wait list for the mooring area that I requested, but I will need to pay the local property owner an annual fee for access to the (private) dock.  The mooring is also overdue for inspection.  The Harbormaster gave me a list of certified mooring inspectors, and now I just need to find a diver on that list crazy enough to go in the water while it is still so cold.  I am told that mid- to late-May is the busy period for spring recommissioning of boats in this area.  It is my hope to have the O'Day in the water by early May, if at all possible....

Three Stripes

Ritual is an integral part of all human culture.  Academia has more than its share of ritual, and plenty of regalia associated with it.  When my wife first saw me in my academic cap and gown, she laughed, "You look like the Michelin Man!"  When I looked at her, puzzled, she pointed to the felt stripes on the sleeves.  Hey, those three stripes signify a doctoral degree!  "Well, all the same," she said.  "With that bulky gown and those stripes, you still look like the Michelin Man."  The 'three stripes' incident has stayed with us, and we still laugh about it.  Whenever I say or do something clever that impresses her, I will smile.  "Three stripes, baby."  And whenever I say or do something astonishingly foolish, she returns the compliment.

Early in my boat-owners odyssey, I learned that there are a good many ritual protocols and conventions surrounding boats and boating.  Perhaps this is not all that surprising, considering the uncertainties of seafaring and the perils faced by mariners through the ages.  Bronislaw Malinowski, an anthropologist who spent the years of First World War conducting ethnographic research among the Trobriand Islanders of the South Pacific, suggested that 'magic' may functioned to assuage fears and anxiety.  Native seafarers who participated in the regional Kula trading ring used ritual magic to cope psychologically with the perils of sailing open boats over the horizon to neighboring islands.  Malinowski saw this as a cultural adaptation: if they believed they had properly performed the magical rituals to avoid or evade the dangers of the sea, mariners could better focus on the practical skills and knowledge they did possess through empirical experience.  Thus, they were more likely to raise their destination successfully and to return safely home.

There are, of course, plenty of informal protocols concerning boat names.  The boat that I acquired still bears the name given to it by a previous owner, my friend.  He had moved up to a larger boat, which he had named after this original vessel.  So, there was never really any question that we were going to rename the boat.  Despite admonitions from some friends about the advisability of renaming sailboats, we simply could not envision two craft of the same name sailing the same waters.

After much too ponderous thought, I settled on the name 'Fanchuan.'  My professional career has involved me with China, where I have spent a good deal of time since my first year there in 1982 as a college exchange student.  I explained to my wife that 'Fanchuan' is Chinese for 'Sailboat' (帆船).  "Isn't that a cute name?" I asked.  Who else would name their sailboat, 'Sailboat?'" And 'Fanchuan' offered a referent to my formative experiences in China.  I assured her that no Chinese would ever name their sailboat 'Fanchuan.'  Very Clever.

Well, it occurred to Mr. Too-Clever-by-Half a few weeks later that there was good reason why no one would name their sailboat 'Fanchuan.'  As a language with a limited number of morphemes, Chinese thus has a good many homonyms.  Depending on how you write it, 'Fanchuan' may mean 'sailboat' (帆船), though it may also mean 'capsize' (翻船).

Three stripes, baby....

Ahoy!

I created this space to record and share my experiences as a novice sailboater.  It is intended for family and, perhaps, a few friends -- those who might be even vaguely interested in my follies as I venture into this new endeavor.  Anyone is most welcome to comment; please feel free to offer suggestions and advice.  This is all meant in good fun.

I have always loved the water, and have wanted to sail on the sea for as long as I can remember.  Growing up near Binghamton, in upstate New York, I did a lot of river canoeing as a youth.  I dreamed of running charter canoe or rafting trips down the local Chenango River and its tributaries.  As a kid, I took from my father's closet an old khaki shirt from his days in the Air Force, and used a permanent marker to draw on it my own operator's badge: 'Greg Ruf's River Charters.'  I had less experience sailing, however.  About an hour from my home was a large reservoir and county park, where we occasionally sailed my father's inflatable Klepper boat.  But my memories of those days are less pleasant, and associated with being cold, wet, and bruised.  As I remember it, we would sail along for a couple dozen meters, then start to heel, then heel some more, and then capsize, spilling everyone into the water.  Even when the boat stayed upright, it seems the boom would come around and hit me in the side of the head all too often.  Not exactly happy memories.  I was much more adept at shooting rapids in a canoe than sailing around in that Klepper.

Nevertheless, my yearning to sail intensified over the years as I developed an interest in tall ships and maritime history.  Living in New England for the last decade or so, I have been fortunate enough to enjoy a number of opportunities to sail again, and under different circumstances: mostly coastal day sails on keelboats.  Each time, whatever the conditions, I was euphoric.  But I never thought I would ever be able to afford to buy -- let alone to maintain -- one of my own.  As the old saying goes, the only thing better than having a boat is having a friend who has a boat: you get to enjoy all of the fun with none of the expense.

However, through some unusual coincidences and some very good fortune, in late 2013 an opportunity arose to purchase a boat at very low cost: a vessel in very good condition, on which I had sailed numerous times the previous year, from a seller whom I trusted.  Quite unlooked for, I suddenly became the owner of a 1982 O'Day 23-foot centerboard-keelboat.

My ship has come in: The O'Day shortly after delivery, just before our first big winter storm of the season.  The boat-stands were the first purchase I ever made through Craig's List ($100 for a set of four from a guy in New Bedford).  I had to purchase the bow stand separately, new, and it cost more than the other four used ones combined.

Now I just need to figure out how to sail it, and how to care for it.  As my friend, the previous owner, remarked during a sail last summer: "You're a nice guy, but you don't know what the [expletive] you are doing."

I never considered creating a blog.  But another friend of mine (and avid sailor) developed a really cool Android app, 'Captain's Blog,' that records and displays details of sailing jaunts and uploads that data to a weblog.  When he asked me to help beta-test the app, I had to set up a blog.  So here I am doing two things I have never done before and never thought I would ever do: blogging and learning to sail.

I thought I would use this space to recount the ups and downs of discovery as this lubber looks for some sea legs....