After months of looking at this strange object next to the garage,
Spencer finally climbs aboard and explores inside the cabin.
Spencer finally climbs aboard and explores inside the cabin.
Most requisite preparations are done, I think. A friend once told me that the cheapest thing about buying a boat was buying the boat. The spring outfitting was much more costly than the purchase of the boat (which I got for a real bargain price). A separate transaction landed me a set of two-year-old Sperry sails (mainsail and jib), a 2011 Mercury 9.9 hp long-stroke outboard motor, and an inflatable West Marine dinghy. That too was a bargain deal, but still cost much more than the boat. The outboard engine is fairly new and in excellent condition, but had not been used for a season or two and therefore got a servicing (labor was twice the cost of parts). A friend and I wrestled that heavy beast onto the transom mount this afternoon. Good to go, I hope.
Discovered this crack in the deck gelcoat around one of four stanchions.
Sealed it with a silicone putty to keep it water-tight for this opening season.
I plan to re-bed all four stanchions over next winter,
along with a few other pieces of deck hardware that show some signs of rust.
Boatale
The previous owner had donated this sailboat to the Massachusetts Maritime Academy (MMA), where it had been purchased at auction by a broker (whom happened to have owned the boat even before the previous owner). The broker already had several boats sitting in his driveway and yard at home, and his wife was much less enthusiastic about his re-acquisition of their old O'Day 23. She told him to sell it immediately, at cost if necessary, or else he could start sleeping in it. I met them at a party soon thereafter, and his wife did everything she could to close the deal before we left that evening. "He'll even throw in a dinghy," she promised. We all shook on the deal, and the boat was delivered to our home from MMA a month or so later.
As I explained in a previous post, there was never any question about renaming the boat. After way too much deliberation over a new name for the boat, I settled on "Piao," a Chinese term that means to be blown by -- or to be floating on -- the wind. It was the title given to the Chinese translation of Margaret Mitchell's 1936 novel, Gone With the Wind.
Before we could attach a new registration number and name, it was necessary to remove the previous markings. A few friends whispered warnings, admonishing that changing the name of a boat was 'unlucky.' But it turns out that there's an app for that, sort of. Some follow the ritual tradition of sacrificial offerings to Poseidon (or Neptune) upon the occasion of re-naming a vessel. There are a number of websites that describe such ceremonies, even offering scripts for proper invocation. Several of the guidelines we found called for use of champagne as a ritual libation, but I couldn't really afford that with all the other boat-related expenses. I used ouzo as a substitute. I figured a Greek god was more likely to appreciate some Ouzo12 rather than some French champagne, no?
Dylan assists as ritual acolyte in the renaming ceremony.
He was not allowed to drink the ouzo.
If you are interested, here are a couple of links to descriptions of this ritual ceremony to perform when renaming a boat:
B.O.A.T.
A friend joked that the word "boat" has an obscure etymology, and is actually derived from an acronym: Break-Out-Another-Thousand. Jokes are funny typically because they combine truth with absurdity. Next I was introduced to anti-fouling marine ablative bottom-paint; I was not aware that copper was such a precious metal -- and I just did one coat! Then there was a VHF radio -- I opted for a Standard Horizon HX851 handheld floating transceiver with GPS (the boat is rigged for a VHF base station, but that will have to wait for the future). My original plan had been to navigate with printed charts and marine apps on mobile phone or iPad, but a friend persuaded me to invest in a low-end Garmin chart plot (GPSMAP 531s). The previous owner had installed new NED cabins lights, but the people at MMA know a good thing when they see it, and those were all removed prior to the boat's auction. So, I had to put in three new LED light fixtures in the cabin, and learn to drill while from rather awkward positions. There were also all the items of the required safety equipment (and some not required items that the twin sisters, Convenience and Prudence, convinced me to put aboard -- such as the port-a-potty, for example). I also bought new anchor chain and rode, new oars for the dinghy, varnish for the woodwork, polish for the metalwork, soaps for the non-skid fiberglass deck, new dock lines in assorted colors, three boat fenders (it is truly remarkable how much a simple little colored tube of rubber can cost), and some other assorted 'boat stuff.' Without any doubt, buying this boat was the cheapest thing about buying this boat.
SV Piao ready for Splash Date tomorrow
Then there was the mooring. Moorings are owned by the town (there is an application fee and a separate mooring fee). Privately owned and separately sold is the gear needed for the mooring: 250-pound mushroom anchor, two lengths of US chain, winter-stick, mooring ball, shackle, mooring lines, and pendant). While I could get to the mooring by using one of the few public boat ramps in the town, the closest point of access is a private dock just a few dozen meters west of the mooring. For a seasonal fee, the local property owner allows parking, dinghy tie-up, and access to a freshwater hose, but that cost more than the mooring and mooring gear combined. I prepared the mooring in early May: another learning curve. I should have had the patience to wait for a day with more suitable weather. Wind gusts were kicking up some white-caps on the river surface as I rowed my inflatable dinghy, 'Mein Kraft,' out to the winter-stick. A few waves broke over the gunwales as I tied onto the mooring chain and began to haul the winter-stick from the water. I wish I had a video, or even a photograph. A small crowd of a half-dozen neighboring residents had gather on the shore, some in lawn chairs, to watch the spectacle. Because the mooring had not been used for years, the winter-stick was thickly encrusted with barnacles and other marine growth. I also should have had the foresight to bring along some material to protect the surface of the rubber dinghy from the scratches and abrasions of the barnacles, and some gloves to protect the skin surface of my palms! Attaching the mooring ball to the chain was not as difficult a task as some had warned. But nonetheless I worried for days that I had secured it improperly. For three consecutive nights I had anxiety dreams that the mooring failed and my boat washed up on the rocks, a broken wreck. I didn't really sleep soundly again until a neighbor asked if he could temporarily use my mooring. His Grady-White powerboat has been on my mooring for several days now, although I am not sure he appreciates how relieved I am to see that.
This last weekend, my wife and I took out our kayak, 'Tiffany-May,' to scout rocks and other potential hazards in and around the cove and the approaches to the mooring. First boat outing of the season: we marked the occasion that evening, burning our socks in a small bonfire ritual symbolizing the end of winter and the start of a new boating season.
Burning Socks:
Another ritual marking the end of winter and return of boat season.
A local boatyard is scheduled to arrive at 0930 tomorrow to haul the boat to a town launch ramp in Sippican Harbor.
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