Ian McColgin
09-22-2003, 02:07 PM
Having lost Goblin to Hurricane Bob, you can bet I was nervous as a cat until Isabelle was thoroughly ashore with no chance of coming back out. I planned on Wednesday on dealing with this.
First challenge was getting into the Cove. Grana's engin is down and will be until I rebuild the whole boat. You've not lived till you've tacked straight into the wind in a channel only about 200' wide. Grana can't even think in that short a distance. I was singlehanding but I did at least go in with the spate of the flood.
We never really gathered way to tack properly and could only bring her around by backing the mizzen (so much better than backing the jib. Quite a workout. Several times I just hung hove-to at the edge of the channel while a ferry went by. Thak god for Ch13. Once we tacked so close to a bouy that I feared the current would carry us into it. I tied the mizzen aback and added rotary and reversing power by backing the jib. I think the bouy threw its head back just like Ali.
Once past Kalmus it was plain sailing to the cove. I had set up my primary anchor before dropping the mooring in Hyannis Port - the 65# CQR with all chain - my starboard bow anchor and most worked unit - with at 45# CQR shackled directly to the 65's crown. The Cove is a bit narrow and even though I was luffing from the south side up, I still bounced off Pine Island itself to stop. Let her back down on mizzen alone to about the middle and fed chain.
Did all the prep stuff - stripping her and all - as Isabelle became less and less likely. Still remembering Bob, I did not begin to relax till Thursday afternoon. It was a good long row out of the Cove to get ashore, but Wednesday dinner with Mary Ellen was worth the effort.
On Thursday morning I also transferred my port bow anchor from the working rode I use to the end of a 300' spool I keep for these moments. The older working rode I secured along the side decks and attached to a 65# danforth.
So nothing much happened. That's nice.
One good lesson was how well the anchors shifted with the wind. I'd anchored in a moderate NE (c 20kt) and that clocked over the days to Friday's sustained 40kt with some higher gusts. One CQR going through that will break out and reset. In this case, there were no breakout moments. I think that when the side strain got enough on the 65# CQR it would break out to reallign but then the 45# would hold while the 65 reset, and so on. A cycle that involved much less movement. I marked bearings when I dropped the anchors and took new bearings when I took them up Saturday and could not notice any change.
So: CQR's in series work quite well. No need for a length of chain between them. And I think that the ability of the anchors to take a reversing wind is enhanced by having them close and thus not able to foul each other.
On to Sarturday's adventure of sailing out. Wind SSW which is good for getting out of the Cove but would be a reverse reprise of getting past Kalmus.
I'd spent Friday night ashore even though there was some risk that with the long scope still out Grana would slide into Pine Island on the wind shift. Light breeze. Rising tide. No worry. Sure enough, there she was rudder just tickling Pine Island when Mary Ellen and I arrived. No biggie. A couple of pulls on the windlass and we were free.
I don't know where my brain was but I just put up the mizzen, fore and forestaysails and cranked in. Figgured to head out on starboard tack to get clear of the shore a little and get the jib up, then tack out. We actually broke free on the port tack and she would not tack in time. We just slid backwards into Pine Island. So there we were on an epping tide and a lee shore.
Stripped the sails and got the dink around to haul out that port anchor. Got a few feet of rode out and all jammed. A quick dive into the forecastle (I hate ap'str'ph's) showed that the spool's axel had come adrift. No quick fix there. Just glad I'd not needed it in a storm. Lesson well taken: Actually check, not assume.
Hooked the old rode onto the port CQR and rowed it out. An all time first: Grana came off on an ebb tide. She was aground on a fairly sharp bank so it wasn't that hard. That SL 555 windlass hooked to my biomass can upt a few thousand pounds stress pretty easy. So, at 0800 the sun was up - somewhere in the fog - and we had a bit of Islay's finest to share with Mother Ocean.
Then made sail and booked for the channel. At moments it was like sailing through an impressionist painting.
Between ferry traffic and fog there was some fiddling to find a window for tacking out. I was using the idle time to show off some of Grana's tricks like heaving to and backing and just circling without making way. She (Mary Ellen, Grana already knew this and was not listening) even got a somewhat pompous lecture on how Chesapeak orster drudges combine low speed and high power in a way quite unknown to yachties.
After about a half hour of doodling around and chatting it up on 13, I was starting out nicely and gave one last security call that was answered by Eagle, our largest ferry. She was still out past the HH and figured we'd be clear, but she didn't know what I knew - how long it could take Grana to beat out that short space. We turned about and fled back towards the eastern edge of Lewis Bay, scraping Egg Island a couple of times in the fog. Since Sunday was predicted northerly, it made sense to just hang. There were sustained choruses of approval on Ch13 for this decision.
When you sail, a higher power sets the schedule.
Dinner ashore and then Mary Ellen went home to her cat and I to Grana.
Sunday, I am happy to say, Grana and all her gods forgave me my sins. I remembered to center the mizzen, set the foresail a little slack, and backed the staysail to starboard. Now as I hauled in the anchor chain she rode a tad on the starboard tack, allowing the chain to be well clear of the bobstay. Once the anchor was up, Grana just sat there hove-to nice as you please. A couple of boats anchored near by were interested in how nicely she sat while I tidied up the anchors and poured some more coffee before loosing the jib and heading south.
0730 riding with the wind past Kalmus. Sometimes a little delay has rewards. As I went out I contemplated how to moor. I was handling a 55' 20t boat alone. Long hike to the bow. She does not gather way fast when stopped. And on a northerly, that Hyannis Port breakwall is uncomfortably close.
So, whatever the plan, one anchor was to be at the dangle in case I had to pull up in a hurry. Worst case plan would be to grab some mud, row a line to the mooring, bring up the hook, and winch my way home. Been there. Done that. Very boring and it leads to much amused comment around the harbor.
Why is there always someone watching when you screw up?
I considered a really fun approach of essentially heaving her to and by varying how much the staysail was backed crabbing her to the mooring air steering from the bow. This works great but it's been a while since I've done it and I'd want to practice - get the feel of the drift again. And I was too lazy. Also, it's not an approach I'd favor in a northly as it would take too long to recover from any error. On a southerly, if I blew it, I could just back past a couple of boats and then make way in the clear.
Then I remembered by lecture on orster drudges. Why could I not sail Grana in and stop while still pointed as on a tight reach? Let the mizzen round us up while I picked up the bouy. And if I missed - too hot, not there, too far to leeward - any miss I would still be positioned that just easing the mizzen and trimming jib and fore would give me instant power.
It worked.
First time.
Fellow having coffee with his dog in an anchored Hinkley SW50 gave me an approving wave.
Theologians following Augustine assert that redemption is a matter of grace. I agree, even when that redemption has come at the end of such effort that it feels, in moments of momentary hubris, earned.
Yesterday morning Grana told me that at least my more recent sins were forgiven.
[ 09-22-2003, 03:13 PM: Message edited by: Ian McColgin ]
First challenge was getting into the Cove. Grana's engin is down and will be until I rebuild the whole boat. You've not lived till you've tacked straight into the wind in a channel only about 200' wide. Grana can't even think in that short a distance. I was singlehanding but I did at least go in with the spate of the flood.
We never really gathered way to tack properly and could only bring her around by backing the mizzen (so much better than backing the jib. Quite a workout. Several times I just hung hove-to at the edge of the channel while a ferry went by. Thak god for Ch13. Once we tacked so close to a bouy that I feared the current would carry us into it. I tied the mizzen aback and added rotary and reversing power by backing the jib. I think the bouy threw its head back just like Ali.
Once past Kalmus it was plain sailing to the cove. I had set up my primary anchor before dropping the mooring in Hyannis Port - the 65# CQR with all chain - my starboard bow anchor and most worked unit - with at 45# CQR shackled directly to the 65's crown. The Cove is a bit narrow and even though I was luffing from the south side up, I still bounced off Pine Island itself to stop. Let her back down on mizzen alone to about the middle and fed chain.
Did all the prep stuff - stripping her and all - as Isabelle became less and less likely. Still remembering Bob, I did not begin to relax till Thursday afternoon. It was a good long row out of the Cove to get ashore, but Wednesday dinner with Mary Ellen was worth the effort.
On Thursday morning I also transferred my port bow anchor from the working rode I use to the end of a 300' spool I keep for these moments. The older working rode I secured along the side decks and attached to a 65# danforth.
So nothing much happened. That's nice.
One good lesson was how well the anchors shifted with the wind. I'd anchored in a moderate NE (c 20kt) and that clocked over the days to Friday's sustained 40kt with some higher gusts. One CQR going through that will break out and reset. In this case, there were no breakout moments. I think that when the side strain got enough on the 65# CQR it would break out to reallign but then the 45# would hold while the 65 reset, and so on. A cycle that involved much less movement. I marked bearings when I dropped the anchors and took new bearings when I took them up Saturday and could not notice any change.
So: CQR's in series work quite well. No need for a length of chain between them. And I think that the ability of the anchors to take a reversing wind is enhanced by having them close and thus not able to foul each other.
On to Sarturday's adventure of sailing out. Wind SSW which is good for getting out of the Cove but would be a reverse reprise of getting past Kalmus.
I'd spent Friday night ashore even though there was some risk that with the long scope still out Grana would slide into Pine Island on the wind shift. Light breeze. Rising tide. No worry. Sure enough, there she was rudder just tickling Pine Island when Mary Ellen and I arrived. No biggie. A couple of pulls on the windlass and we were free.
I don't know where my brain was but I just put up the mizzen, fore and forestaysails and cranked in. Figgured to head out on starboard tack to get clear of the shore a little and get the jib up, then tack out. We actually broke free on the port tack and she would not tack in time. We just slid backwards into Pine Island. So there we were on an epping tide and a lee shore.
Stripped the sails and got the dink around to haul out that port anchor. Got a few feet of rode out and all jammed. A quick dive into the forecastle (I hate ap'str'ph's) showed that the spool's axel had come adrift. No quick fix there. Just glad I'd not needed it in a storm. Lesson well taken: Actually check, not assume.
Hooked the old rode onto the port CQR and rowed it out. An all time first: Grana came off on an ebb tide. She was aground on a fairly sharp bank so it wasn't that hard. That SL 555 windlass hooked to my biomass can upt a few thousand pounds stress pretty easy. So, at 0800 the sun was up - somewhere in the fog - and we had a bit of Islay's finest to share with Mother Ocean.
Then made sail and booked for the channel. At moments it was like sailing through an impressionist painting.
Between ferry traffic and fog there was some fiddling to find a window for tacking out. I was using the idle time to show off some of Grana's tricks like heaving to and backing and just circling without making way. She (Mary Ellen, Grana already knew this and was not listening) even got a somewhat pompous lecture on how Chesapeak orster drudges combine low speed and high power in a way quite unknown to yachties.
After about a half hour of doodling around and chatting it up on 13, I was starting out nicely and gave one last security call that was answered by Eagle, our largest ferry. She was still out past the HH and figured we'd be clear, but she didn't know what I knew - how long it could take Grana to beat out that short space. We turned about and fled back towards the eastern edge of Lewis Bay, scraping Egg Island a couple of times in the fog. Since Sunday was predicted northerly, it made sense to just hang. There were sustained choruses of approval on Ch13 for this decision.
When you sail, a higher power sets the schedule.
Dinner ashore and then Mary Ellen went home to her cat and I to Grana.
Sunday, I am happy to say, Grana and all her gods forgave me my sins. I remembered to center the mizzen, set the foresail a little slack, and backed the staysail to starboard. Now as I hauled in the anchor chain she rode a tad on the starboard tack, allowing the chain to be well clear of the bobstay. Once the anchor was up, Grana just sat there hove-to nice as you please. A couple of boats anchored near by were interested in how nicely she sat while I tidied up the anchors and poured some more coffee before loosing the jib and heading south.
0730 riding with the wind past Kalmus. Sometimes a little delay has rewards. As I went out I contemplated how to moor. I was handling a 55' 20t boat alone. Long hike to the bow. She does not gather way fast when stopped. And on a northerly, that Hyannis Port breakwall is uncomfortably close.
So, whatever the plan, one anchor was to be at the dangle in case I had to pull up in a hurry. Worst case plan would be to grab some mud, row a line to the mooring, bring up the hook, and winch my way home. Been there. Done that. Very boring and it leads to much amused comment around the harbor.
Why is there always someone watching when you screw up?
I considered a really fun approach of essentially heaving her to and by varying how much the staysail was backed crabbing her to the mooring air steering from the bow. This works great but it's been a while since I've done it and I'd want to practice - get the feel of the drift again. And I was too lazy. Also, it's not an approach I'd favor in a northly as it would take too long to recover from any error. On a southerly, if I blew it, I could just back past a couple of boats and then make way in the clear.
Then I remembered by lecture on orster drudges. Why could I not sail Grana in and stop while still pointed as on a tight reach? Let the mizzen round us up while I picked up the bouy. And if I missed - too hot, not there, too far to leeward - any miss I would still be positioned that just easing the mizzen and trimming jib and fore would give me instant power.
It worked.
First time.
Fellow having coffee with his dog in an anchored Hinkley SW50 gave me an approving wave.
Theologians following Augustine assert that redemption is a matter of grace. I agree, even when that redemption has come at the end of such effort that it feels, in moments of momentary hubris, earned.
Yesterday morning Grana told me that at least my more recent sins were forgiven.
[ 09-22-2003, 03:13 PM: Message edited by: Ian McColgin ]