SCA Sailing

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

Sunrise 0507, Sunset 2018

LW 1146, HW 1636

Sunny, 77(F), 41% Humidity

1010 hPa

Winds NNW 10-15 kts, gusting 25 knots

Waves 2-3 feet

SMALL CRAFT ADVISORY

Depart 1010, Arrive 2015

36.2nm, 10hr 5min

Eager to sail.  Not two-hour spin-around-the-parking-lot sailing, but some destination sailing.  I've been giving some thought to getting started with a couple of overnight trips, to Hadley Harbor near Woods Hole, to Cuttyhunk, even to Martha's Vineyard.  The Kalmar Nyckel will be in Provincetown in late July, and I have even given some thought to sailing there, across Cape Cod Bay, to meet up with my old shipmates.  One day, I want to do the Figawi and sail to Nantucket.  But that is an over-the-horizon sail and perhaps I need a bigger boat.  I would also like to sail up the east coast of Massachusetts, to Boston, Cape Ann, and points north, maybe even spending a few weeks (or will it take months?) tooling around the coast of Maine.  Then, of course, there is the Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW).  I would like to travel down "The Ditch" to Savannah one year in the future, making may way to the waterfront home of my wife's friend for some fresh roasted oysters.  Small boat, big dreams.

Mid-Atlantic Section of the Intra-Coastal Waterway.

The entire 3000 mile (largely inland) route runs from Boston, MA, to Brownsville, TX

"One day, lad, all this will be yours...."

Crawl, Walk, Run.  But let's not put the dinghy before the sloop.  Best to start with some longer full day sails, I figured.  So I came up with this zany idea to do a day sail to Cuttyhunk and back.  That's at a rhumb line of at least 20nm, and a sail track upwards of 25-30nm (each way), depending on course.  I figured if I could average 3.5 knots, I might make it to Cuttyhunk and back in 17-18 hours.  If I left at the crack of dawn, I should be home by midnight.  That was my Id talking; before long, my Superego got the better of him.  That was a dumb plan.

Buzzards Bay

Monday, June 13th, there was a Gale Warning posted, so my sailing plans were put on hold.  The next day, however, the winds were forecast to moderate a bit.  My original plan was to get up at 0400 and get an early start, but I slept too late.  Then I discovered that the winds were still pretty strong -- when you have to fight white cap waves and spindrift on the river as you row the dinghy out to the sailboat, then you know it is still blowing out there on the bay.  There was a Small Craft Advisory up.

A little rough-looking even inside the shelter of Dexter's Cove....

I was still determined to go out for a long sail.  Given the winds were blowing offshore, out of the north, I figured if I stayed relatively close in to the south coast then it should be a little less rough than out in the middle of Buzzards Bay.  My revised sail plan was to head down as far as New Bedford or Padanaram and then return.  All the same, considering that I was again sailing alone, I decided that with a SCA posted it was prudent to go with a reefed main sail.  If winds were manageable, I would unfurl the jib too.

Sail Plan

This was also a good opportunity to test out a new app, "RaceJoy," that tracks one's position and progress through a race or training exercise.  Use of this app as a new safety requirement has been mandated by the organizers of the annual "Blackburn Challenge," a 20+ mile circumnavigation of Cape Ann and a big rowing event in New England every summer.  My whaleboat team, the "Polar Oartex," is currently training for this year's race on July 16.  The app allows spectator-users to see a visual display of a participant-user's position on a map.  It has an option to allow tracking during "training" sessions, so I convinced the Admiral to download the app and see whether she could follow my position throughout the day's sail.

The User Interface is not ideal, and some of the control settings are not all that intuitive,

but it does work....

I went aboard at 0935 and stowed my victuals for the day sail: water, a couple of Diet Cokes, a ham and swiss sandwich, and two Braeburn apples.  I also affixed to the stern rail a small video cam in a waterproof case: a DBPower SJ4000 (Go-Pro knock-off) that my kids bought me for my birthday.  It takes some decent quality video, but unfortunately the battery died before I got out to the more exciting parts of the day's sail.  Then I set about reefing the main.  On the plus-side, this meant I did not have to struggle hoisting the sail the last few inches to the top of the mast; on the minus-side, the sail is not taut when reefed, as can be seen in the photo below: there is some slack near the tack that I have not yet figured out how to remove.  

Main sail reefed.  Note the zip-ties I put on the spreaders to deter birds....

Finally, I got underway at 1010.  The wind was blowing a good 16 knots, as measured from the cockpit with my handheld anemometer.  Every ten or fifteen minutes a strong gust of 25 knots or more would come blowing out of the north, the telltale surface ripples to windward signaling its impending arrival, and heel the boat over.  By 1120, I had raised Bird Island on my starboard bow, and the boat was making four to five knots on a starboard tack.  Eager for more, I let out half of the jib.  Captain Bob warned me that unfurling only half the jib was bad for the sail, but I just wasn't sure how the boat would handle (or how I would handle) in these winds with the jib fully deployed.

Here's a video clip of 'Piao' underway off Mattapoisett

This put me up to five-and-a-half to six knots.  Nice.  At 1304, the Admiral sent me a text message: "Wow! You are off West Island."  So, I guess the RaceJoy app works reasonably well (it is, however, a huge drain on the battery, requiring continuous 'Background App Refresh').  An hour later I was past Clarks Point and approaching Padanaram.  With the famous "Dumpling Rocks" off Round Hill clearly visible ahead to the south, I started thinking about turning for home.  At 1420, at Bents Ledge, I turned NE and put her on a port tack, rounding back towards Fort Rodman (Fort Tabor) on Clarks Point.  I had traveled about 18nm in four hours, averaging about 4.5 knots.

My turn-around point at Bents Ledge (Red #6) off Padanaram.

You can also see my short tacks to the NE on the return leg,
as I worked my way up and around Butler Flats Light.

Before heading home, however, I wanted to sail around Butler Flats Light.  My whaleboat team often rows out to this abandoned lighthouse in the outer harbor of New Bedford at the mouth of the Acushnet River.  I could not reach it on my outbound leg: the northerly winds were just too strong and I could not tack upwind sharply enough to reach the light.  Now, however, using the lee of Clarks Point to shelter a bit from the sharp winds, I did a couple of short tacks that, by 1530, brought me up and around the lighthouse.  It felt good to see an "old friend," and satisfying to accomplished this goal.

Butler Flats Light, near Clarks Point outside New Bedford

Built in 1898, this is a 53-foot high brick and cast iron "spark plug" style lighthouse that warned ships of a shallow shoal near Fort Taber.  It has four levels, including a basement and three levels of living space, each fifteen feet high and thirty-seven feet across, and two watch decks atop the light.  Erected on a muddy bottom, a 35-foot iron cylinder was filled with concrete and lowered to the river bottom to provide the foundation for the structure.  It had only two keepers, Amos Baker and his son, from 1898 until the USCG took over operations in 1941.  It was automated in 1978, and placed on the National Register of Historical Places in 1987.  Twice in recent years it has gone up for auction.  In 2013, the high bid of $20,000 was rejected as insufficient (Bidders that year were unable to land on the lighthouse due to a broken ladder; one of them, a man from Virginia, said he blamed Obama for that, of course).  It sold for $80,000 in a new auction in 2015.  Some members of our whaleboat rowing club would like to acquire the structure for use as our clubhouse, and sell pizza and cold beverages to passing boaters.  You can read more about Butler Flats Light here: http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=619; and here: http://www.us-lighthouses.com/displaypage.php?LightID=420; some interesting interior photographs may be found here: http://www.lighthousedigest.com/digest/StoryPage.cfm?StoryKey=3768

F/V Hannah Boden visiting New Bedford

Sister ship of the 'Andrea Gail' (lost in the "Perfect Storm")

There was quite a bit of fishing vessel traffic departing New Bedford that afternoon.  I saw almost a dozen trawlers and scallopers come out of the hurricane barrier and drive out into the Bay while I was in the area.  I had to time my crossing of the harbor entrance channel carefully to stay well out of their way.  I could see Cuttyhunk, away in the distance.  There was no way I would be making it there and back in a single day.  That was just a brain fart.

Cuttyhunk on the SW horizon.  Maybe next time, but it will definitely be an overnight trip....

On my return leg, I sailed by Angelica Rock and Black Rock off Wilbur Point on Sconticut Neck.  We have rowed out here from New Bedford harbor, too.  The former is a white rock covered in birds and bird shit -- you could hear them from some distance off; the latter is, well, a black rock.

The aptly named "Black Rock" in the foreground with the red day beacon.

Angelica Rock lies behind it to the east.

By 1600 I had made Wilbur Point and turned eastward on a broad reach.  But now the wind died.  It was sudden, like turning off a light switch.  One minute it was blowing 12-15 knots out of the North, the next only 2.3 knots from the SSW.  It was a long run back towards Marion.  Along the way, off West Island, I grew lax in my watch and negligent with my navigation and almost ran aground on a shoal off Rocky Point, where the bottom rises up to only 1.5 feet!

That was close!

With the wind so weak, it seemed to take forever to put West Island behind me.  Everytime I looked towards the shore, there was that black-and-white watch tower still hovering there.  It wasn't until 1800 that I reached Mattapoisett.  Ten minutes later, off a local shoal called the "Bow Bells," an unexpected shift and gust in the wind, from SWxW to SExE, and from 4 knots to 12 knots, sent the boom flying across the cockpit in an unanticipated gybe.

Sailing homeward on a beam reach in 3-foot following seas....

It took me another hour to pass Bird Island, off Marion's Sippican Harbor.  There had not been much traffic on Buzzards Bay that day, but here I was overtaken by a large blue-water sailboat whom, it turned out, was heading towards an overnight anchorage in Wings Cove.  He waved.  Sailboaters are a friendly sort, even towards us little guys.

He beat me, but he was motoring....

By the time I was off Piney Point, the wind dropped again to less than two knots and only diminished from there.  It seemed like the wind was done for the day, and I was getting pretty well done too.  At 1910, off Wings Cove, I gave up trying to sail and started the motor.  When I finally rounded Great Hill, and turned north towards the mouth of the Weweantic River, I was pretty tired.

Last leg, motoring up to the mooring....

I finally reached the mooring at 8:15pm, a trip of over 36nm that lasted more than ten hours.  It was a beautiful end to the day, but I could just tell that it was going to be a "Dark and Stormy" night.

Psst.... Wanna See My Dinghy?

Sometimes, when we do a family sail to a nearby beach, we tow along my West Marine inflatable 9-foot dinghy, "Ruf Ride."  The O'Day 23 has a 'shoal keel' with retractable centerboard, and with the board up it only draws 2'3" -- making it possible to get in rather close to the shore.  Of course, you still need to pay attention to charted depths.  If you anchor in five feet of water at high tide, you still might find yourself "high and dry" when the tide goes out.

Oops....

In any event, the dinghy makes it easier to get ourselves, and all our gear, to and from the beach: towels, buckets, nets, plastic digging tools, beach chairs, cooler.  I keep in it a small collapsable grapple anchor (bungeed closed) and a small bailing pump lashed to the underside of the thwart.  I like the inflatable.  So too, it seems, do other people.  I often return to the dinghy dock at Dexter's Cove to discover someone has used it in my absence.  I can tell because they tied it back up in a different place, using a different method than I use.  I thought about putting a padlock on it, but then decided that might only invite vengeful vandalism.  If its available for anyone to use, then maybe everyone will take care of it.  Or will they?  Did you ever read the essay, "Tragedy of the Commons?"

'Ruf Ride'

My West Marine 9-foot inflatable dinghy

The inflatable is much lighter and more stable than "hard-shell" fiberglass or wooden dinghies.  While it is not the most ideal platform to use when changing out your winter stick for mooring ball (when you need to drag all that rusty chain across the rubber hull), it is easier to haul around when you go sailing.  You see a lot of sailboats towing inflatable dinghies; some larger boats stow them on deck or on davits.

Towing a Dinghy

(that is not 'Piao', by the way)

Dinghy Stowed on Deck

(that is also not 'Piao')

 Dinghy Stowed on Davits

(that is not 'Piao' either)

Dinghy Garage

(that is definitely not 'Piao')

But there really isn't any space aboard 'Piao' to stow that dinghy: that 9-foot inflatable dinghy is roughly 40% the length of the sailboat.  Moreover, sometimes towing a dinghy can be inconvenient.  Still, I have been wondering, if I go somewhere and anchor or pick up a mooring, and there is no launch service, how will I get ashore if I don't have a dinghy with me?  A buddy of mine suggested I get an inflatable kayak.  That sounded like a great idea, but we have two plastic tandem kayaks already, and I didn't think the Admiral would approve to requisition.  And it might still prove difficult to stow out-of-the-way on a small sailboat like 'Piao.'

Then last week, as I bemoaned the need for a new pair of water shoes, the Admiral sent me to Ocean State Job Lot -- a regional discount store.  "Don't you dare go to West Marine!" she warned me, ominously.  While there, I espied a small Intex Seahawk 2 inflatable dinghy for only $30.  A closer inspection of the box revealed that it had my name on it.

It ain't fancy, but it was cheap.  She can't accuse me of undermining the financing for the kitchen renovations.  More to the point, it is only intended for infrequent use, in a pinch.  It even came with a manual air pump, a storage pouch, collapsable oars, "welded" (!) oar locks, and (my favorite) "motor mount fittings."  I just can't imagine.  For now, I keep it rolled up and stowed in the small hanging locker forward by the V-berth in 'Piao.'  It could fit in a (large) backpack.  Now, I just gotta think up a good name for her.....

Shakedowns

A few days after my launch, my buddy and I went aboard 'Piao' to put on the sails.  I learned that day, if one has the choice, it is best not to try to bend sails in 12 knots of wind.  We started in the bow, with the jib, and never got any further.  In fact, we didn't even finish that.  Part of the problem was the wind, but some of the difficulties were attributed to a disagreement we had over which side of the furling forestay contained the jib halyard.  Since my buddy is the previous owner (PO) of the boat, I deferred to his opinion.  But we just could not raise the jib fully up the furler track: it seemed to stop about four or five inches short of the top.  After struggling with it, in the wind, for about thirty minutes, we gave up, brought the sail down, and stowed it in the cabin to await a less windy day.

Afterwards, I went online and looked up the rigging instructions for the model CDI furler on the boat.  It turns out that my buddy had mistaken the "messenger line" for the halyard.  Consequently, the head of the foresail was twisting around to the front side of the furling track as it neared the top, preventing it from going up fully.



When we tried again a few days later, in less wind, we did it my way and the sail ran smoothly up the track to the top of the furler.  No harm, no foul; just happy to have it done.  The mainsail was more straight forward, although I have always had trouble getting the mainsail up to the mark at the top of the mast.  The last few inches are really difficult, and I just cannot figure out why.  More on that in another post.

With the sails rigged, it was time to take 'Piao' out for a couple of "shakedown" runs to see how she handled and what might need tinkering and tweaking.  These trips led me to discover an issue with the sink drain hose.  The new hose I installed is a bit too long, and curves or loops upward before reaching the thru-hull to drain overboard.  

Plumbing Fail: This hose should run more directly, and more level, to the thru-hull drain.

When I use the sink, the water does not exit the boat.  Unable to defy gravity and climb upward to the thru-hull drain, it instead backs up into the sink.  Perhaps next winter I will crawl back down in there and shorten that hose, making it run more level to the thru-hull fitting.  But I am not going to mess around with that while the boat is in the water.  On a somewhat related note, I have discovered that when the boat is heeled over on a port tack, that thru-hull fitting (on the starboard quarter) is submerged and seawater forces its way up into the hose, eventually backing all the way up into the sink.  I will need to install some sort of seacock beneath the sink drain to prevent this.  For now, a $6 plunger from Lowes seems to work just fine in driving any water out of the hose and out through the thru-hull fitting.

By the end of the first week of June, I had taken 'Piao' out four times, three of those trips single-handed, logging roughly 40 nautical miles and 14 hours of sailing time.  On June 4th, Admiral Seawolf joined me for her first sail of the year.  Now in our third season with the sailboat, we have come to an understanding: she would rather be blasting along in a high-speed powerboat, but she will come along in 'Piao' as long as she does not have to do anything.  "I don't want to hold the tiller.  I don't want to hold a rope.  The only thing I want to hold is a beer," she warns me.

Admiral Seawolf

I must admit, however, she has some Portuguese salty dog in her.  She doesn't like the Buzzards Bay chop, but she is not as deterred as our friends with a powerboat who go out infrequently ("There are waves out there!"  Well, yeah).  The Admiral likes sailing close-hauled when there is a fresh breeze on flat water -- a rare combination -- and we can get the boat up to 6 knots or so.  This day she brought along her book, and sat unperturbed on the leeward side as the boat heeled fifteen-degrees.  She only looked up, and wordlessly shifted to the windward side, when the angle of heel increased to twenty degrees.  Then she went back to her book.  

Must have been a good read

That June 4th sail was extra special to me because that day I won my first race!  Heading out from Cromeset Point, where the Weweantic and Wareham Rivers converge into upper Buzzards Bay, we overtook another boat (coming out of Wareham) as we both sailed towards Abiel's Ledge.  The other boat was larger, and carrying full sail (although he was towing a dinghy), while we were sailing under mainsail alone.  To be fair, the other guy probably didn't realize we were racing.  But my friend Linda once said that whenever there are two sailboats in the same place, at the same time, headed in the same direction, there is an implicit race underway, whether it is acknowledged aloud or not.

My opponent, to leeward, dropping behind our port quarter.....

My June 6 jaunt, however, was most exhilarating.  It was a sunny afternoon with temps in the upper 70s.  I was working around the house when the Admiral -- who was stuck working at her desk -- said to me in exasperation, "What are you doing inside?  It is such a nice day!"  That was all I needed.  "Okay, Bye Honey!"  It was a breezy day, with SW winds gusting 24 knots, so I headed out under reefed mainsail only (in part to test how adequately I had rigged the reefing system this time).  I sailed out towards Abiel's Ledge, at the entrance to the Cape Cod Canal.  Unable to point high enough to the wind to clear the breakwater, I had to short tack around a rocky shoal called Dry Ledge.

The boat was averaging 4-5 knots on the starboard tack, but only 2-3 knots on the port tack.  I am not sure why, but this O'Day 23 seems to sail consistently faster on the starboard tack (or maybe it was simply a difference in my sail trim?  or my angle off the wind?).  I also noticed that the leeward shrouds were very loose and wiggling, but Ed had forewarned me of this so I was not overly concerned.  After a couple of hours, as the rig seemed to hold up steadily under the force of the wind, I decided to unfurled half the jib.  Immediately the boat speed bumped up another two knots, and I was making over 6 knots on a starboard tack back out towards the canal approach channel.

I needed to get back by 6:00pm for my stepson's Little League game (which typically run three or more hours), so shortly before 1700 I turned for home, beam reaching on a port tack.  What the hell, I thought.  Let's put out the full jib.  Wow!  The boat was soon bowling along at 7.1 knots, a wet ride with spray and splash, under full jib and reefed main, heeled over 40-degrees, with the starboard toerail in the water!  "Yeeeeeeeee-ha!"

I have learned that keel boats can heel pretty far over and still remain fairly stable.

That's not 'Piao:' that's some guy just showing off....

Thank God its Dock Day

One advantage of getting 'Piao' in the water early is that there are few other boats out on Buzzards Bay in the month of May.  It seems like you have the whole ocean to yourself.  On the other hand, one big disadvantage of an early-bird launch is that, in order to get to the boat, I am obliged to haul my dinghy out through mud in the absence of a functioning dock.  I am talking about deep, thick black mud that can suck the boots right off your legs.  At low tide, you often sink up to your knees in mud just a few feet from the high tide mark.

Dexter's Cove at low tide.  The docks are in, but not floating.  My dinghy, "Ruf Ride," sits in the foreground.

Those of us who moor our boats at "Dexter's Cove" pay the local property owner $350 a year for access to a floating dinghy dock with a freshwater line.  However, as he no longer owns a boat himself, he is typically not in a hurry to get the floating dock back in the water.  The situation is complicated by the fact that we must wait for an astronomical (or at least an unusually high) high tide to have enough water depth to launch the docks.

We missed the opportunity in May, and the lack of preparation work down at the cove led me to worry that we might miss the June high tide as well.  You can imagine my relief when things came together at the last minute and a bunch of us were able to get the floating docks in the water.

Dexter's Cove at high tide -- a 5'6" difference from low tide this day.
The docks are floating now, but still need to be moved into place at the end of the stone pier.

Each year, I look forward wistfully to the day when I can finally rinse out the dinghy and put away my knee-high water boots.  Thank God its Dock Day......

Launch Day

17 May 2016

Sunrise 0521; Sunset 1958

Temp 64 (F); Water Temp 50 (F)

Winds WSW 14kts, gusting 24kts

Waves SW 3-4 ft, 6 seconds

4-5 Bft Moderate -- Fresh Breeze

Visibility 10km

Partly Cloudy; Cloud Cover 66%

Humidity 45%

Pressure 1021mb

LW 1125 (0.5 ft)

HW 1808 (4.1 ft)

Depart: 1545

Arrive: 1750

Trip: 9.0nm, 2hr 5min, 3.5 knots ave speed, 7.9 max speed

Finally, at long last, my "splash date" for the 2016 season arrived.  The Brownell guys showed up at 1:00pm, on-time as always, and generously complimented me on how good the boat looked.  They lifted Piao onto the hauler, put the dinghy there too, and prepared to head over to the town ramp in Marion's Sippican harbor.   I jumped in my car and drove over there just ahead of them.

Piao arrives at the town boat ramp, with her dinghy....

Ed Van Kurtin was there to help me with the rigging and tuning.  He noted a few issues of concern as we worked.  First, there is some spider-cracking on the deck around the mast step, probably compression fractures.  He advised me that it was safe to sail ("I see a lot of boats with cracking much worse than this," he assured me), but suggested that we fix it during the next off-season.  That might cost a bit, depending on what we find in terms of water penetration.  Shhhhhh, don't tell the wife.

Those troubling cracks on the cabin top.  Worried that water may be penetrating the core....

In addition, Ed noted that the shrouds were worn and the turnbuckles were maxed out.  Again, he assured me that it was safe to sail, but urged me to replace the shrouds next year.  "They are thirty-five years old," he smiled.  "And we can probably replace them for only about $500."  

This is *so* true....

By 1330 the boat was in the water.  Working against some wind and tidal current, I guided her over to the town courtesy dock so that we could work on getting the rigging set properly.  Although Piao is a small boat, it still took me and Ed more than two hours to get the rigging squared away and to finish all the fine-tuning adjustments.  I honestly don't remember why it took so long.  There was no time to bend the sails.  As it was, I long overstayed the fifteen-minute time limit on tie-ups to the town courtesy dock.  Good thing no one else was launching that day.  Pays to be early in the season....

Rigged and ready.  Now, to find some way to cast off those dock lines and climb back aboard before the boat drifts away in the wind....

I was a little nervous about handling the boat alone on the first day of the season.  But no one was available to assist me with the launch.  So my plan was simply to motor over to my mooring, about 9nm east, on the Weweantic River.  Just get her there and call it a day, I told myself.  Deal with the sails another day.  Even inside the sheltered harbor, it was blowing 9-11 knots, and gusting 20 knots.  I fired up the engine (yay!) and cast off at 1545.

Getting underway, gingerly.  Some of the sailboats in this harbor cost much more than my total net worth....

By 1615 I had cleared Seal Rock near the mouth of the harbor, where the winds were up to a steady 19 knots.  It was then I noticed that I had not pulled in and secured my docking fenders.  Well, that was embarrassing.  I could hear the voice of my friend, Bob, chiding me: not very yachtsmanly.  More importantly, I now had to find the cojones to leave the tiller and climb out of the cockpit to retrieve those fenders as the boat pitched in 3-4 foot seas.

Leaving Sippican Harbor.  At the height of summer, the harbor is a dense forest of masts.....

I held a pretty steady course of 180(M) until I was well clear of Centerboard Shoal.  Out there, in the Bay, the winds were blowing 22-24 knots, with gusts of 28 knots.  I put away my handheld anemometer to concentrate on handling the boat.  The waves here were four to five feet, out of the SW.  It all made for a rather gnarly ride.  I took a lot of water over the bow and foredeck, and a couple of hard splashes right in the face.

"Splash Day" living up to its name.....

At 1540, I made my turn and began my easting towards Great Hill, passing between Bird Island and the G"3" Bell that marks Bird Island Reef.  I now had to deal with following seas that were racing by, overtaking the boat and pushing its quarter from side to side in a yawing motion.  The dinghy, which I was towing behind me, would often turn sideways as the crest of a big wave passed beneath it, and then surf down the face of the wave to ram the stern of the boat.  I had little choice but to throttle up.

South of Bird Island, a six-footer pushes the dinghy down towards Piao's transom  

Just trying to keep that painter away from the prop....

At 1715, I made my turn at Great Hill, and headed north toward the mouth of the Weweantic, relieved to have a respite from the white capped chop out in Buzzards Bay.  By 1750, I was securely on the mooring, and soon thereafter headed ashore.  "Dark and Stormy" was in the forecast.

Honey, I'm home!

At 6:30pm, some five hours after launch, my wife took me back to the town ramp so I could retrieve my car.  When we got there, I was shocked to discover that I had inadvertently left the car trunk ajar!  It was sitting there open and unattended all afternoon, yet nothing was missing.  Good thing we live in a town like Marion.  Ever read Nothing Ever Happens on My Block?

My favorite childhood book.....

Failure to Launch

We joke around here that our boating season in New England is so long and lengthy.  I try to squeeze out every little bit that I can.  Originally, I had booked a 2016 launch date for Saturday, May 7, a regular Mr. Early Bird.  This year, I learned a very valuable lesson: one does not wait until the day before launch to test the boat engine. Although I thought I had successfully completed my pre-launch check list, I procrastinated on checking the Mercury 9.9hp outboard motor.  It seemed fine in the fall, I thought, so there was no urgency.  I'll just fire it up the night before launch, and we will be good to go.  Bad idea.

To my chagrin, I discovered the water pump was not functioning properly, leaving the motor at serious risk of over-heating.  The only saving grace was that a few days earlier I had convinced my neighbor Henry to come over with his Sawsall and cut off that rusted padlock on the motor mount, because now the engine definitely had to come off the boat.  Adding to my humiliation, frantic calls to local repair service shops were met with near uniform responses: two to three weeks before anyone could even take a look at it, let alone fix it.  Busy time of year.  Luckily, my buddy Ric put me in touch with a fellow named George Vigeant of "On Site Outboard" in Fairhaven, who was willing to look at my motor the next day.  He confirmed that the impeller was worn out and not drawing cooling water into the engine.

Those paddles are worn and will not properly draw water to cool the motor

It took George a couple of days to replace the impeller, and I bought a spare (about $20) to keep on board the boat.  But then he discovered the "tells" on the engine -- which should squirt out water indicating that the engine was being cooled -- were blocked.  No water coming out.  It took a few more days before George got around to blowing out those with some compressed air.  Final damage: $189 and a ten-day delay in my launch date.

Note to Self: replace this sucker every year or two....