A New Gadget - and a Rant

A week ago David and I had an "interesting" morning on the water learning to bring Ge'Mara to heel under less than perfect conditions.  That day was cut short due to weather but I wasn't too worried because spring is here and along with it longer, warmer, sunnier days.  My Monday afternoon I had plans to go out after work on Wednesday afternoon with a colleague.  Unfortunately that plan fell through  and I ended up at the pub.  This was a disappointment because now I'm flying to Atlanta for the week so it will be a while until I get back to the boat.

So in the absence of sailing what is there to do?  The answer of course is hang out at the chandlery and look for something cool to buy.  This week it was the WindMate 200.

Ge'Mara doesn't have a wind speed gauge built into her as many new boats do.  Most experienced sailors are quick to dismiss the need for a wind gauge, invoking all kinds of wisdom about "feeling it on your face" or "after a while you just know."  The irony is that most of these guys have wind gauges.

For David and I, the primary value of a wind guage is to validate our terror when we're in over our heads.  The theory is, when the wind is really blowing and we're in trouble, we'll simply break out the WindMate 200, hold it up into the wind and bingo - hard data to back up our harrowing stories back at the dock.  Of course, this plan comes with the risk that the WindMate returns a less than impressive reading and confirms that we're not only neophytes but worse, pansies.

The WindMate 200

The more practical application for this little gadget is to help us understand what a given amount of wind really feels like.  We're still learning how much wind is too much wind, and at what point we should consider reefing.  Our experience with wind forecasts here is that they are wildly inaccurate given all of the variables so we need a little more hard data on what we're actually experiencing so we can better judge in the future how to prepare and react.

A Bit of a Rant
On the subject of boat improvements, I've shared already that we are still looking to do some upgrades, a new anchor light chief among them.  The one guy we've had down to the boat has been pretty good but he was quick to tell us that he doesn't go up the mast under any circumstances.  He explained that for that job we need to find a rigger.  We quickly got a referral to a guy who is reputedly one of the best  around and we gave him a call - and left a message.  We would soon discover this is standard operating procedure with marine service guys.  Nobody, under any circumstances, is immediately available to talk.  When we got a call back we told him what we wanted and he assured us he could do this without breaking a sweat but he couldn't guarantee when he could come.  We said no problem we can wait.  After about a month of waiting we started looking for someone else.  I found some professional looking websites that promised all manner of marine services and I made a few calls.  In every case I got either an answering machine or a service that featured a young lady who, between bubble gum chews, explained she had no idea what I was asking about and that I'd have to leave a message.  This I did and several days later we're still no closer to securing someone to replace our anchor light.

Apparently the marine service business in Vancouver is very good indeed.

A Little Excitement, A Little Learning

After what seemed like forever, I've been able to get Ge'Mara back on the water this week and she's more the happier for it.  I'm pretty pleased as well.

On Tuesday of this week I returned from Chicago with a new team member that I hired.  The plan was to arrive in Vancouver about noon and work for the afternoon.  I discovered at some point that he grew up sailing on the South Florida coast so we quickly made the connection and determined to at least introduce him to Ge'Mara some time during the week.  As it happened, the weather for the week peaked on Tuesday with beautiful sunny skies and rain in the forecast for the balance of the week.  I made a command decision and used what was left of Tuesday to take him sailing.  Not only was it a great time but it signalled that weather permitting we can start taking advantage of weekday evenings to get a little more sailing in.

After a few days of wind and rain the weather seemed to break a little bit on the weekend.  Sunday morning found David and I down at the boat at 8:30 and busy preparing for a day on the water.  We were expecting a nice puff to be left over from the previous days storms and with an early start we hoped to get as far as Gibsons for lunch.  I noted with satisfaction that we're getting used to the boat and our preparations for sail proceeded in a businesslike fashion.  Our follies with raising the dinghy seem like a distant memory and these days the entire process takes less than 5 minutes.

We were greeted in English Bay by the traditional rollers that we've come to expect if the wind has been blowing for a while and we had fun motoring through them on the way to slightly smoother water beyond the bridge.  We didn't need to look at our wind indicator this day to know what we had to work with and after a brief discussion we decided to leave the sail ties on the main and begin with a reefed genoa to test the waters, as it were.  It wasn't long before we were making 5 knots under nothing but a well-reefed jib.  As I've mentioned before, the wind most commonly blows from the NorthWest directly into English Bay.  This day was no different and we tacked back and forth, clawing our way closer and closer to Point Atkinson.  The seas were larger than anything we had ever been in but we had the boat nicely under control.  The waves crashing over the bow were exhilerating.

Sailing in a busy harbour has it's challenges and one of them is dodging the up to 20 massive freighters that are anchored in the bay.  These things are so large that they create their own wind patterns, further frustrating a sailors efforts.  In one case we were beating close to the wind on a course to just barely clear the anchor chain of a large tanker.  With the wind pushing us slightly sideways we got close enough to smell the anchovies on the tanker captain's sandwich before we gave up the attempt and tacked away towards West Vancouver.

Another phenomena I should be used to by now is the difference in wind speed between the East and West side of the bay.  As we tacked to the East side of the bay towards West Vancouver we were making up to 7.5 knots, now under a full genoa.  We had unfurled the rest of the headsail because on our last tack to the east the wind seemed to lighten.  I can't say how many times I've been fooled by this and after another tack towards the west the wind strengthened and we were soon over canvased.  We struggled to manage the boat this way for a while, sailing closer and closer into the wind in an attempt to keep from being overpowered.  However it wasn't long before we were blown well over a couple of times, an experience made all the more unnerving by the large waves hitting us abeam.  We started the engine and got the boat under control long enough to reduce the genoa again and settle back in on a port tack towards Point Atkinson but soon it became apparent that with the strength of the wind we might need to tack yet again in order to clear the point.  Enough was enough.

We turned the boat back towards the Lions Gate bridge and let the headsail well out in preparation for a broad reach.  Immediately the boat calmed down and we set ourselves to the business of following the wind and surfing the rather large rollers that we're coming off our stern.  Even though Ge'Mara's hull has a physical speed limitation (hull speed) of 7.5kts, we were effectively surfing now.  With much of the hull being lifted out of the water with each large wave we averaged about 8 Kts all the way home, with peak speed of 9.3Kts.  Fun :)

Back at the dock we had buttoned up and sat below listening to the wind howling in the rigging.  The weather had taken an unforeseen  turn and the wind was now blowing hard from the East - 180 degrees from it's original direction.  Had we stayed out and made Snug Cove for lunch we would have had a long, miserable upwind sail home in the rain.  We toasted our day and good fortune with our old friend Glen(livet) and went home to restful afternoon and a hot meal.

Landlubber Blues

It's Friday morning and over my coffee I'm pondering my second consecutive weekend - and second consecutive week - of no sailing.  There is a window of opportunity tomorrow but after Easter weekend I'm no longer quite as stoked to go out in marginal weather.  The forecast is calling for rain with sunny breaks in the afternoon and a high of 10 degrees or so.  Even if I was up for it, David has bowed out due to illness and the weather definitely won't meet Brenda's minimum standards.

I've even run out of stupid questions to ask on the sailing forum, and people have long since finished answering the ones I asked a while ago.  So here I sit, Googling obscure sailing terms and eyeing the boats out my window in False Creek.  I suppose for a while longer I'll have to be satisfied reading about other people's adventures.  Here's a couple of examples:

Cruising Lealea:  A retired couple cruises between the west coast and Hawaii on a 27 ft sailboat
http://www.youtube.com/user/vega1860/videos?flow=grid&view=1

Another blog about sailing to Hawaii
http://macsinvan.blogspot.ca

Wish List

After a stellar Easter weekend, Vancouver weather has reverted to type.  Rain, cloud and occasionally heavy winds are the order of the day.  A couple of months ago David and I would not have been deterred by a little rain but with all the sailing we've done recently we are both content to occupy ourselves with other things for a while.  With that said, the boat is not far from my thoughts.

Our first three months of sailing have been a huge learning experience for us, as many of my blog posts would suggest.  As we're getting to know the boat we're beginning to identify and mentally prioritize various upgrades.  I'm learning this is a disease common to all boaters.  As if general maintenance and upkeep isn't expensive enough, every boater wants more stuff.  It's not by coincidence that owners define a boat as "a big hole in the water you throw money into."  Some even say that the word BOAT is really an acronym, meaning Bring Out Another Thousand.  In fact, in the parlance of boat owners, $1000 = 1 Boat Unit.  Even if items appear to be much less expensive than that, somehow things add up and before you know it, your quick and inexpensive upgrade ended up costing you a Grand.

I referred to some early upgrades in a previous post, such as new lifelines, new water heater, stereo etc..  These we deemed basic necessities.  The only item on that list still outstanding is a replacement anchor light.  This light is at the very top of the mast and must be left on at night when at anchor so other boats are aware of your presence should they be maneuvering in the dark.  Ours is burnt out so we plan on replacing it with an efficient LED model that will draw fewer amps from the batteries.  Unfortunately this requires someone going up the mast.  David and I have decided to leave that task to a pro.

New lifelines

New clutches

New stereo with I-Pod jack

The items I'm thinking of now are net-new, in the sense that Ge'Mara has never been equipped with them before.  Here's a few things I'm currently coveting:

Anchor Windlass
One of the best parts of coastal cruising is finding peaceful little places to anchor and relax, perhaps eating, drinking or even spending the night.  Setting the anchor is a pretty simple process but bringing it back up can be hard work and a little unpleasant at times.  A sailboat anchor typically has about 30' of heavy chain, followed by a few hundred feet of rope.  On Ge'Mara, this must be retrieved manually.  The lucky person who gets to haul it in is not only in for a bit of a workout but will also get quite wet in the process.  An electric windlass will do all of this work for you, such that brining in the anchor is a simple matter of pushing a button.  The windlass winds the anchor rode back up and lets it fall into the anchor locker.  It's not always a seamless process but most certainly better than retrieving it by hand.  Cost:  $400 - $1,000

Typical examples of anchor windlass 

Autopilot
This may seem like a bit of a luxury but when you spend the entire day sailing or motoring it can get a bit tiring to always have to be at the helm.  Even with more than one person on the boat there are times when the helmsman might wish to take a break or attend to something that needs doing.  For boats that make long passages and require 24 hour attention to the helm, autopilots or wind vanes are considered a necessity.  Another advantage of an autopilot is the opportunity for single handing.  While I'm not ready for that just yet, I can see wanting to try it in the future.  Cost:  $1,000 - $1,500 installed.

An autopilot setup, consisting of the control head and the bit that attaches to the wheel

Whisker Pole
Most people find sailing downwind to be the most pleasant point of sail.  The boat isn't heeled over, the wind seems to disappear and yet you are making good speed.  In light air however, it can be difficult to make the sails behave.  Often the genoa (headsail) will be flapping around in want of a bit more wind to keep it full.  A whisker pole essentially holds the sail out into the wind and prevents it from collapsing when the ship roles on a wave or the wind momentarily dies for any other reason.  This simple device, combined with a preventer rigged to secure the mainsail boom from swinging, makes downwind sailing  much more pleasant.  Cost:  $124 - $400

An example of a whisker pole in use

Here Comes the Sun: Day 2 - Sunday

After a great Good Friday sail with David the time was long overdue to turn my attention to the home front.  Brenda had generously arranged her weekend to accommodate my Friday trip and in return the rest of the weekend belonged to her.  We spent a nice afternoon walking in the Easter sunshine and made an Italian meal for ourselves that evening.  Across that day we speculated about how to spend Easter Sunday.  To my surprise, Brenda wanted to go sailing.

On Sunday morning before leaving we considered the question of lunch.  (I'm a bit like a Hobbit - issues of food are of paramount concern.)  After my gushing description of the bacon cheeseburger at Bowen Island Pub, Brenda was anxious to try one.  Given her tiny appetite and the fact I'd just had one two days before, we agreed to split one.  Thinking further, I remembered how packed Snug Cove was on Friday and suggested we bring some buns and lunch meat just in case.

The wind had been blowing nicely the weekend and the forecast called for winds potentially over 20 knots.  David suggested we put in a reef before we left the dock and after mulling it over I decided he was right.  In the calm of Coal Harbour Marina the reefing procedure went smoothly and quickly, to my immense satisfaction.  I imagined that the man and woman sitting on the seawall nearby were impressed with my expertise.  Fortunately they weren't around when later in the day I tried to raise the main fully without releasing the reefing lines.

Leaving the dock that day, the sun was warmer than even Friday, with the forecast for 20 degrees.  We agreed this was more like the May long weekend than Easter.  With only a t-shirt on we rounded Burnaby Shoal and let the ebbing tide pull us out into English Bay at over 8 knots.  To our surprise and delight we found wind right away and as soon as we were at a safe distance from Stanley Park the sails were up and we were on a comfortable close reach across the bay, pointed for Jericho.

This was one of the few times I've been able to sail all the way out of English Bay from Stanley Park.  The wind was perfect so we didn't really need the reef but it was nice to know, for Brenda's sake, that we were prepared for stronger winds should we encounter them.  Besides, even with the reef we were consistently making 5 knots and occasionally 6.

A couple of hours later we motored into Snug Cove, hungry for lunch.  A quick scan of the government dock revealed not a single empty slip.  Sheepishly I hailed the marina on the radio, knowing full well they were booked this weekend.  Having received the answer I expected, we motored out of Snug Cove en route to our alternate.

Seymour Bay is a small cove at the South end of Bowen Island that offers protection from all but East winds.  We were visiting here for the first time on the suggestion of a friend and I'm glad we did.  This was my first time anchoring this boat outside of practice and it went very well.  Brenda and I had done this before on a charter boat so there was no drama at all.  Once securely anchored we enjoyed bunwiches packed with fresh ham, tomato and cheese, along with a bowl of chicken soup.  While we were lunching a couple of other boats anchored nearby.  One was a small but very well equipped ocean going sailboat, complete with a wind vane setup for long voyages.  As he passed close to us on the way to his anchorage I greeted him with hopes of pummelling him with questions about his boat and experiences.  Perhaps he sensed the onslaught because as soon as he was securely anchored he went below and stayed there.

Being anchored on a nice day in a secluded cove is a purely wonderful experience.  In truth, moments like this on rented boats are a large part of what prompted me to buy one of my own.  We hung around for a while, soaking up the beauty of the area and the unusual warmth of this early spring day.  A look at my watch broke the spell and soon Brenda was tidying up below and I was shaking the reef out of the mainsail.

Out of the bay we had a brief period of wind that shot us across the outside of English Bay on a beam reach at 7.5 knots - our top speed.  Unfortunately after a few exhilarating minutes of this the wind died. We turned downwind and tried in vain for a while but it was clear that the sailing part of our day was over. Reluctantly we started the engine and the long motor home. 

As we puttered along at 5 kts Brenda noticed another boat to starboard flying a colourful spinnaker.  As we watched it soon became apparent this vessel would overtake us even though we were motoring.  I was having none of that and in short order the sails were out again and we attempted to fly wing-on wing - the closest we could get to a spinnaker configuration without having one.  For a while it looked like we might put up a fight but in the end the little boat beside us left us astern on her way to wherever she was headed. 

A spinnaker beats no spinnaker every time.

With this minor humiliation finished we received a text with a late invitation for a barbecue at a friends place.  Once again we brought in the sails and motored home, looking forward to a sunset barbecue to end a terrific weekend.

Here Comes the Sun: Day 1 - Friday

One of the advantages of buying and sailing a boat in winter is that your expectations are quickly tempered.  I hear talk of people learning to sail in the Caribbean and I can only imagine what that's like.  I have no idea what it is to sail on my boat in just shorts and a t-shirt.  And so it is that with the arrival of a sunny Easter weekend, I feel blessed.  I should say that this was no ordinary weekend.  Easter in Vancouver is often quite nice but this year we were treated to glorious sunshine and temperatures approaching 20 degrees.

My first sail was on Good Friday with David.  We had contemplated taking advantage of the long weekend to do something more than day sailing but both of us were overdue for some quality time with our ladies so day sailing it was.  Friday morning was gorgeous.  Then again, as we sail deeper and deeper into spring, each outing seems to top the last.

We motored into English Bay to find the West side filled with sails of all descriptions.  At first I thought this was just a random boaters taking advantage of the first really nice weather of the year but David explained that it was the start of a yacht race called Southern Straits, sponsored by West Vancouver Yacht Club.  They start at Dunderave pier in West Vancouver and depending which course they have chosen, sail to Nanaimo or further North and back to Halibut Bank.  These were serious boats with sails made out of some kind of high tech material.  The dudes all seemed very serious as we passed the starting point and I was just as happy not to be among them.

After fiddling around near Lighthouse Park trying to spot a friends house on the shore, we raised the sails and tried to find wind.  For a while it was slow going but we consoled ourselves by noting another sailboat off our bow that was similarly bobbing around.  Soon though, the wind freshened and with a few tweaks to the sail trim we were clipping along nicely.  We quickly overtook our nearby friends and passed them with a wave and a friendly comment - one of the little pleasantries that boaters observe (although more so it seems, on sunny days).  As we left them astern we were more than a little pleased with ourselves at having actually passed someone while under sail.  Maybe we are starting to get the hang of this...

David was up for another Burger at Bowen Island Pub and I wasn't about to argue so after a couple of hours of fine sailing we pulled into Snug cove and found one of the last spots at the government wharf. We later learned that Union Steamship Marina in Snug Cove had been fully booked for months.  90 minutes later we slipped our moorings and headed toward home.  Davids eyes had been bigger than his stomach so he was groaning and complaining about how full he was but he refused to go below for nap.

As usual, on the long downwind run back toward the Lions Gate Bridge we both settled into our own thoughts and stared off to the horizon, contemplating the growing cityscape before us and the snow-capped mountains to our left, bathed in the waning sun of another perfect day.