DIY (Do it Yourself)

Most boaters you come across tend to be fairly handy folk.  I'm not really sure whether owning a boat makes one handy or if handy people are the ones who end up buying boats but I'm hoping it's the former.  So far, David and I have avoided messing with key systems too much and instead have deferred to Laurence, our trusty boat mechanic and general Jack Of All Trades.  In many cases I think this is a good thing as ill-informed bumbling with equipment can end up being more expensive than simply hiring an expert.  With that said, there are some things you just need to learn to do.

One of the biggest ongoing headaches on a sailboat is the marine head (toilet).  They are notoriously unreliable and when they start to malfunction it is immediately unpleasant for everyone.  And so it is that one of the first onboard systems that any boater will learn to fix is the head.  David and I have successfully deferred learning about this in our first year and Laurence has gamely performed whatever maintenance has been necessary.  Recently, however, he has been more reluctant.  If I remember correctly he said something like "I'm not fixing your head any more."  This was fine at the time because the head was working reasonably well but it was soon to become a problem.

A marine head is a nice convenience but needs constant attention

Over the last week we've been noticing that water has been backing up in to the bowl.  At first we thought it was seawater but when I visited the boat yesterday, the smell that greeted me made it clear that water was backing up from the holding tank.  The timing for this was not good because David and I are due to leave for our trip to Princess Louisa Inlet in 5 days and I have a day sail planned with some friends before that.  I immediately called Laurence even though I knew he would be reluctant.  To my dismay his schedule was totally booked and he didn't know anyone else who could help us on short notice.

Based on the nature of the problem we agreed it was probably the Joker Valve.  The Joker Valve is a simple rubber plug that allows water to flow through it in one direction but not the other.  More specifically, it allows waste and water to be pumped out of the bowl and into the tank while not allowing it to come back the other way.  These little devices are as simple as they are unreliable and it is widely known among boaters that they need to be replaced at least once a year.  I knew after speaking with Laurence that if we wanted to sail this week, I was going to have to fix the head myself.  There was simply no other way.

A joker valve.  Every boat owner
will eventually know what it is.

Dutifully I went to the chandlery and purchased the Joker Valve.  There was no question of them having stock - they guy told me it is the single most requested item they have.  I went home and did what any self respecting handyman does when he needs information:  I checked YouTube.  Sure enough there was a video of two guys replacing a joker valve on a marine head.  They made it look very simple but still a bit unnerving.  One of the key messages from the video?  Wear gloves.

The next day, armed with my Joker Valve and my memory of the YouTube video, I met David on the boat to attack the problem.  We pumped tons of fresh seawater into the head in an effort to get the waste water out of the system but the more we pumped, the more water would come back from the tank into the bowl.  Soon it became apparent that even though we had the tank emptied by the marina the day before this would still be an unpleasant task.  David presented me with an extra large pair of pink rubber kitchen gloves and I donned them solemnly.  My gloved hands held up like a surgeon, I addressed the patient.  "Screw driver" I said over my shoulder to David.  He placed it in my open palm and repeated "screw driver."  I loosened the joint where I assumed the joker valve to be and water started spewing out.  I crinkled my nose and jumped back but fortunately the head area has it's own shower bilge and bilge bump so the water ran harmlessly into there and soon the pump was purging it into the ocean.  With a gloved hand I reached in and found the edge of the joker valve.  I tugged on it and out it came, hideous like a cancerous tumour.  I held it up for a moment and David and I stared with sickly fascination.  He held a Safeway bag out and I dropped it inside.  David disappeared for a moment and returned with the shiny new joker valve.  I turned back to the head and inserted it with surgical precision back into the open pipe.  That was simple enough.  Shortly after I screwed the assembly back together and stepped back, thankful that it was over.

David stepped in and started pumping.  The bowl filled with fresh seawater as it was supposed to and then evacuated into the holding tank.  Nothing flowed back into the bowl.  "You're a genius" he said.  I smiled and stripped off the rubber gloves.  How simple was that??  We had overcome another groundless fear as boat owners and taken another step towards being "handy."  I went home and looked on YouTube for a video on how to bleed the fuel line on a diesel engine.

Primed and Ready...

Last week we completed the second part of the work we planned for Ge’Mara this spring.  The maintenance and repairs at dry dock weren’t sexy but they were necessary.  However this past week was dedicated to things that were a little more noticeable – and fun.

First, Ge’Mara got a cut and polish topside, the closest thing we could give our girl to a trip to the spa.  She may not quite look like new, but she’s got her lovely glow back.  In fact we were so pleased we thought we might reconsider going back to the Hunter Rendezvous and giving those 50 ft. prima-donnas a run for their money.  With that said, the birds have already done a number on her.  And so it goes…

We installed two new pieces of electronics this week as well.  First, we replaced her old old VHF radio with a brand new Standard Horizon DSC model.  I swear the old one had tubes in it.  Our mechanic suggested we could sell it on e-Bay.  David and I looked doubtfully at each other and he chucked it when Laurence wasn't looking.  We took advantage of the upgrade to install a remote microphone/speaker in the cockpit.  Prior to this we were forced to use a portable VHF radio in the cockpit and the more powerful primary radio sat in the cabin virtually unused.  Now we can access all features of the new radio while sailing the boat.  Plus we now have the added safety benefit of DSC as I explained in an earlier post.

The new remote mic for the VHF is a big help

Close-up of the RAM mic.  If you closely you
can see it displays GPS position and speed info now.

The second project was a brand new Raymarine autopilot.  David and I debated over this for quite a while but in the end we decided to go for it.  We are very happy for the decision.  Anxious to try it out we planned an impromptu sail this past weekend, even though the forecast called for heavy rain.  Before the worst of the rain started we had a chance to try the autopilot, first while motoring and then under sail.  It’s a wonderfully simple and useful device that will promise to make long sailing trips more pleasant for both of us by keeping the boat on course while the person who would otherwise be stuck behind the wheel can occupy himself or just relax – while maintaining a watchful eye on the water of course.  (I heard one sailor refer to being stuck at the wheel while motoring "the tyranny of the helm.")

The new autopilot system attached to the wheel

The control head for the autopilot

I was also sure to try the automatic tacking feature.  Normally tacking is a procedure that requires one person at the helm to change course while another person works the jib sheets and re-trims the main.  Now the autopilot can handle the helm while I work the lines.  This is important to me as I have some extra time this spring/summer to take the boat out on my own.  It worked like a charm and David and I were grinning stupidly at each other in the rain, partly at the fun of having a new toy on the boat and partly out of relief that we had spent our money wisely.

So Ge’Mara is primed and ready for sailing .  We have plans to make a quick overnight trip in the latter part of April and then it’s off for a week to Princess Louisa Inlet on May 2.  Can’t wait.

Back in the Water

After a week or so at dry dock Ge'Mara is back in the water.  There is still work to be done but all of the remaining upgrades can be accomplished back in her home slip so back in she goes.  While she was out of the water we had her bottom pressure washed and the anti-fouling paint re-applied.  Anti-fouling is a special kind of paint that discourages mussels, barnacles and other forms of sea life from attaching themselves to the hull.  The rust spots were ground off of her keel and covered with epoxy.  The zincs had completely fallen off the prop shaft so we had those replaced.  (In order to prevent corrosion to the propeller in salt water, zinc orbs are attached to the propeller shaft.  For an explanation of how and why zincs work, click here).

The rust spots on the keel were ground off and sealed.
Note also the new black anti-fouling paint on the bottom.

New zincs were attached to the propeller shaft

The biggest item we had to attend to was replacing a worn rudder bushing.  This meant disconnecting the rudder from the steering system (quadrant) and removing it entirely from the boat.  There are actually two bushings, one at the top of the rudder shaft and one near the bottom.  The top one was the more significantly worn and the bottom one is encased in the fibreglass hull.  Given the work required to replace the bottom one we just did the top.  This involved having a polypropylene cylinder machined to precise specifications and then slicing off an amount required for the bushing.  The remaining material will be kept as a spare in case we need to repeat the procedure for the bottom bushing.  It was a bit of work and expense for something that isn't highly visible but you know what they say about an ounce of prevention...

Ge'Mara going back in the water.  Note her new
lettering on the transom.  The name remains the
same but she's now proudly from Vancouver. 

By the time we "splashed" the boat and fired up the engine I was ready to ferry her home to Coal Harbour.  It was a rainy spring day and after spending several hours tinkering with the boat in the rain I was ready to make the short trip to our slip and dash home to dry out.  I said my farewells to Laurence and the helpful crew at Granville Island Boat Yard and headed out under the Burrard bridge.  I was just nicely passing the False Creek channel markers and settling into my own thoughts when the engine started to hesitate and lose power.  I recognized it immediately as the same problem that we had coming through Porlier pass last summer when we completely lost the engine.  The wind was blowing briskly in English Bay and as the rpm's continued to drop I had images of being the latest sailboat to be washed onto the Vancouver shoreline for the amusement of people walking on the seawall.  Fortunately the engine stabilized at about 1500 rpm and I was able to turn around and limp back toward Granville Island.  I made a quick call to Laurence and found that he was still at Granville Island and could meet me at an open slip to investigate the problem - another lucky break.  I silently wondered whether the outcome would have been any different if we had changed the name of the boat and risked the wrath of Poseidon.

After some fuel system diagnostics it became apparent that there was something wrong with the brand new Raycor fuel filter that had been installed just a few months ago.  It seemed odd that this would be the case, given how new the filter was and the fact that the engine was running fine when we brought her in for dry dock.  In any event, as I motored away for the 2nd time in the pouring rain, I reflected that this had been a valuable day of learning.  By helping Laurence replace the rudder and then watching him diagnose the fuel flow problem I had at once gained valuable knowledge and realized how much I have to learn.

On the Hard

This has been an interesting (and costly) week so far.  On Sunday David and I motored Ge'Mara from Coal Harbour to Granville Island in preparation for having her pulled out of the water for service and repair.  It was a rainy ride over but we were rewarded in the end by sighting a school of dolphins at the entrance to False Creek - a fairly rare event.  Naturally we were too busy gawking to get any pictures.

On Monday the boat was pulled and we were able to satisfy our curiosity about how much funk had accumulated on her underparts.  Also we were curious to see whether our encounter with a rock near Thetis Island had done any significant damage to the keel.

Hauling her out of the water

The guys at the Granville Island boatyard are really efficient and within minutes of being lifted out of the water, Ge'Mara was on jacks and her underside was being pressure washed.  To our surprise there was relatively little accumulation of sea life on the hull, thanks to the regular application of anti-fouling paint by the previous owner.  The keel seemed unharmed by rock we clipped but there were patches of rust on one side, perhaps where the rock had scraped the protective paint off.

Rust spots on the keel.  These will be ground
down and epoxy applied to exposed areas.

Our marine mechanic, Laurence Abro of Triton Pacific Marine Services, is supervising all of the work on the boat and performing important inspections.  After the keel, one of the key items we had for him to inspect was the rudder.  When we had the boat surveyed a year ago it was noted that one of the bushings was worn and may need to be replaced.  After removing the rudder Laurence confirmed this and wasted no time in having a new one fabricated by a local machine shop.

After the first day the hull had been polished to gleaming.  We were so pleased with how it looks that we engaged Trish, a local boat detailer, to detail and polish the topside, including oiling the long neglected teak rails.

Meanwhile the old decals on the transom have been removed, much to David's relief.  Due to some old and painful memories, the reference to Nanaimo on our boat irked him to no end.  Very shortly Erl the sign guy will be by to reapply the name and home port of Vancouver.  Contrary to what I've written in the intro to this blog, we will not be changing Ge'Mara's name.  After agonizing over the issue we mutually decided that while Ge'Mara wasn't our name, it has come to be the name by which we know her best.  She has treated us kindly this last year and so we have no wish to start fresh now.

Artist's mock-up of the new boat name and home port.

In addition to cleaning and repairs we have a couple of upgrades we've decided to make.  First, we are replacing the ancient VHF radio in her cabin.  A new radio is actually very inexpensive and will utilize DSC (Digital Selective Calling) technology, as referenced in an earlier post.  DSC utilizes the Global Positioning System to maintain a fix on the boat at all times.  In case of emergency we can push a button on the radio that will automatically send a distress signal to the Coast Guard with our exact position and identification of the boat.

Lastly and after much debate, we have decided to add an autopilot.  This is an expensive decision, adding several thousand dollars to the bill but well worth it in the end.  For my part it will enable me to safely begin single-handing the boat this summer while I am off work and have time on my hands.  For David it is an extra measure of safety while introducing his wife and family to sailing.

Exciting times as we prepare Ge'Mara for another year of fun on the water.

A New Chapter

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this coming week marks the end of an era in one part of my life and the start of a new chapter that will no-doubt feature even more fun on the water.  After 15 years I am leaving my job and taking a well earned break.  It's fun to contemplate all of the sailing possibilities that exist now that I have the time to explore them.  In preparation for this, David and I are getting the boat ship-shape.

This weekend we'll take Ge'Mara for the short ride from Coal Harbour to Granville Island where she'll be pulled out of the water put "on the hard" for some maintenance work.  One of the things we're really looking forward to doing is repainting the transom and changing her home port to Vancouver rather than the current Nanaimo.  The plan has always been to change her name to "Never Better" but we're scratching our heads at the moment on whether we want to go through with it now that the opportunity is here.  Looks like it will be a game-day decision.

The next big trip we have scheduled is a run to Princess Louisa Inlet (PLI).  This breathtakingly beautiful spot is about four days sail from Vancouver, located at the end of the much larger Jervis Inlet, the entrance to which is just East of Nelson Island.  PLI is a fjord with towering snow-capped mountains on both sides.  At the end of the inlet there is a large waterfall known as Chatterbox Falls.  It's a destination that is at the top of most boaters' wish list in the Pacific Northwest, sail and power alike.  With that in mind, David and I are very deliberately making the trip in the early spring to avoid the crowds and hopefully have the place largely to ourselves.

It promises to be a great year on the water.

Princess Louisa Inlet.
Voted "the most scenic natural anchorage in the world"

Happy Birthday Ge'Mara

This past weekend marked exactly one year since we sailed Ge'Mara home to Vancouver from Nanaimo.  It seemed fitting that we take her for a run.

After a 3-month respite from sailing David and I were ready for some time back on the boat. Our day trip to Snug Cove a few weeks back didn't really cut it so we used Ge'Mara's "birthday" as an excuse to head out a little further and drop the anchor for a night.  Even though we still weren't going very far I was interested to see how comfortable it would be in the near-freezing temperatures of mid-January.  We reflected that it was March last year before we spent the night at anchor so this seemed like a little bit of an adventure in the middle of an otherwise dull winter month.  Normally we rely on the electric heater at the dock in the dead of winter but for this trip we'd be limited to Ge'Mara's on-board diesel heater.

As usual Saturday morning we met at the local Safeway to provision.  We were determined to reign ourselves in this time and not go crazy on the food.  For the most part we succeeded...  But no matter what, you can't scrimp on the meat so we had the butcher cut us a couple of massive rib steaks for our main course.  We then considered breakfast for the next morning and briefly thought about skipping the bacon, given the size of the dinner we had planned.  We quickly dismissed that thought and picked up a pack of the extra thick, smokey kind.

After a brief delay caused by me forgetting my sleeping bag at home we left the marina.   Unfortunately once again there was no wind to speak of so we settled in for a long motor and talked.    Just like last time when we turned the corner around Pt. Atkinson we were met by the Howe Sound outflow and we raised the sails.  We had about half an hour of very pleasant sailing but once we turned out of the Sound towards Long Bay and Gambir Island, the wind died.

David at the helm on the way out

A while later we were comfortably anchored in Long Bay.  We surveyed the area and took note of the two other boats who were anchored nearby.  We stared at the long evening shadows forming over the water and the beauty of our surroundings, shivered and retreated to the warmth of the cabin.  It was 4:30pm.  Safely ensconced below, we poured ourselves a drink and chatted for a bit. At 5pm David asked if he should start the barbecue.  I gave him a pained look.  I could see the whole thing taking shape in his mind...  David has the ability to go to bed at an incredibly early hour and leave me sitting with a full glass of whisky and nobody to talk to.  Now he was trying to get dinner started early and I'm sure he was thinking if all went well he could crawl into his bunk at 7pm.  I was having none of it and suggested he crack another beer and relax.  We could start cooking at 6pm.  I put out the cheese and chorizo I bought for the occasion (we're not barbarians after all) and we snacked and drank for another hour.

Happy Hour - Beers and a Dark n' Stormy

We had decided to let the cabin heater run non-stop since before we left the dock and it was really quite comfortable down below.  Before long we had our sweaters off and were happy just in t-shirts.  I put on a sweater and went up on into the cockpit just long enough to grill the two slabs of meat and then we settled down to a huge dinner of steak, potatoes and onions, and salad.  It was a delicious meal but way, way too much food.  David wisely left half his steak to wrap up.  I demolished mine.

Beef.  It's what's for dinner

I looked at my watch after we'd enjoyed a scotch and somehow we'd made it to 8pm.  With the cabin positively toasty David collapsed contentedly into his v-berth for the night.  I was ready for this and had downloaded a movie onto my MacBook to occupy me for the rest of the evening.  It was Hunter S. Thompson's "The Rum Diary" and I crawled into my own cabin, with a tot of rum for good measure, and settled in to watch my movie.  I was asleep by 8:20pm.

As I crawled out of my little cabin the next morning, turned on the heat and put the coffee on I resolved once again to exercise a little restraint on these boat trips.  I'm the smartest guy in the world at 7am.  With the previous nights' sins still weighing on my mind (and stomach) we decided to skip the bacon at breakfast.  However I did cut up David's steak and fried it up with the leftover potatoes and 6 scrambled eggs.

Morning

I wish I had some fun sailing to report on the way home but it was not to be.  We got the sails up for about half an hour and other than that it was motoring all the way home.  I wanted to be back to watch the Seahawks game at 3:30 and we made it in plenty of time.  We agreed that Ge'Mara's heater was more than up to the task of keeping us warm in the dead of a Vancouver winter, so long as she had a bit of a head start.  This gives rise to all sorts of new winter sailing opportunities.  Can't wait.

Back on the Water

As my blog posts will attest, Ge'Mara sat idle in her slip from mid-September until the new year.  David and I would occasionally stop by to say hello and ensure nothing had frozen or broken but other than that she sat unused.  After a long and eventful summer of cruising it was probably time for a break.  Work demanded our attention once again and fall storms swept in from the Pacific, further dampening any lingering enthusiasm for being on the water.  But now it is January - one year almost to the day since we purchased our lovely boat and sailed her home.  Almost on cue, we've both been feeling the itch once again to get back to the water.

It started with David's birthday in late December.  After celebrating in the usual way with family he declared that he would also like to mark the occasion by grilling some steaks on the boat.  At the time there was a prolonged winter storm blowing through, which in Vancouver means almost nonstop rain.  But that's what he wanted and I was sort of looking for an excuse to get back to the boat so steak it was.  It ended up being a great evening.  David and I hadn't spoken much given distractions with business travel, family and the holidays.  We enjoyed catching up over a rich California cabernet and a couple of succulent New York strips, followed by a nip or two from the bottle of 18 year old scotch I'd brought as a birthday gift.

The following week the skies cleared and with just the weekend between us and the return to work and routine we decided it was time to take Ge'Mara out for a run.  We decided a trip to Snug Cove on Bowen Island would be just the ticket, enticed by the fantastic bacon cheeseburger they serve up at Bowen Island Pub.

The forecast earlier in the week had been for 10 - 15 knot winds but when the day arrived winds were calm, other than a brisk outflow in Howe Sound.  I queried David first thing in the morning about the point of motoring all the way to Bowen but he wanted to press on and I'm thankful for that.

When I arrived before 10am David had already been there for some time and had started to prepare the boat.  I set about taking down the Christmas lights I had hastily put up for the benefit of those walking by on the seawall.  I had lifted the 120ft string of lights from the middle up to the top of the mast with the main halyard.  After releasing the halyard clutch, a light tug on the lights should pull it all down again.  Unfortunately when I tried it wouldn't budge.  I suspected this might be the case with the cold and the halyard not being used for a while.  I pulled a little harder on the string of lights and then - SNAP - they broke and part of the string came crashing down on top of me.  The rest of the lights remained aloft along with the halyard.  At this point I cursed, realizing that if the same thing happened with the other side of the string our halyard would be stuck at the top of the mast and nothing short of hauling someone to the top would retrieve it.  Until then there would be no sailing.

As I gingerly played with the remaining string, David inspected the lines and suggested that if I released the actual halyard rather than the mainsheet (which is what I had inadvertently released), things might go more smoothly.  Sheepishly I released the proper line and the lights and halyard pulled down smoothly.

A short while later we cranked the engine and despite the cold she started gamely without much protest.  Both David and I were feeling a little rusty with our pre-launch checklist so we paused an extra moment to make sure all was ready and then set off.  Sure enough there was no wind to speak of  and even though we had removed the mainsail cover there was no attempt to actually sail.

Heading out for the day.  Calm seas and no wind.

After a while we both realized that it was actually quite cold.  We were remembering last year's winter sails but on reflection, most of those took place in temps that were above 8 degrees Celsius.  Today it was hovering around 3.  When we rounded Pt. Atkinson and turned towards Bowen we felt the Howe Sound outflow in our faces and there was certainly enough wind to sail but by that point we were both too cold to care.  We motored on towards Snug Cove and resolved to put he sails up on the way home, once we had warmed up and filled our bellies.

As we approached the dock we had to stand off to allow the BC Ferry loaded with people and cars to depart for the mainland.  With a deafening blast of the ships "whistle" the ferry departed and as soon as we deemed him safely out of his slip I pulled in behind him and attempted to line the boat up to dock.  Big mistake.  The substantial thrust from the departing ferry immediately started pushing us broadside into the dock and I was forced to quickly turn into it and gun the engine just to keep from being slammed into another boat.  Even after the ferry was well away and I lined up for a second attempt I had to again maneuver away due to the lingering effects of the ferry. When the artificial current had finally subsided and I brought us close to the dock we looked up and saw a sign that said in bright red letters "BEWARE OF FERRY WASH."

The dock was covered in frost and we gingerly stepped off and tied up, wary of how slippery frosty docks can get.  I had just about brained myself and taken a swim earlier in the day on a slippery dock at Coal Harbour.  We walked briskly up the hill to the pub, trying to put feeling back into our frozen toes but it wasn't until we had been seated at our table and eating before we felt completely warm.

On our return to the boat we saw two guys loading what looked like fire logs onto their sailboat and we realized that they were wintering on their boat and had a furnace inside for warmth.  David commented that their boat looked like it hadn't moved for some time.  What a contrast this was from the hour-by-hour competition for dock space in the summer.  Sailing in the winter is truly different experience.  It may be cold but it's much more peaceful somehow.

The dock at Snug Cove was frosty

As we left Snug Cove I expected to feel the outflow breeze again and contemplated the effort of raising the mainsail.  David was at the helm so I knew it would be me doing the work this time.  I should have been looking forward to it but the chill had sapped my enthusiasm for the short sail to Pt. Atkinson and I was secretly relieved when we discovered that the outflow wind had died.  We settled in to motoring home.  We had done most of our catching up so we amused ourselves watching the massive tankers and container ships steaming out from under the Lions Gate bridge towards some far off destination.

A while later we approached Coal Harbour marina and it was David's turn to bring the boat in.  Out of an abundance of caution, having had a few months off, David slipped the boat into neutral about 100 meters from the slip.  It is customary to do this when approaching so as not to have too much momentum when approaching the dock but this was a little further out than normal.  I waited on deck with the bow line as we crept slowly towards the dock.  The GPS registered zero knots.  I slept for a little bit I think.  But finally we made the turn into the slip and David was rewarded for his patience by stepping lightly off the boat and tying the stern, so little movement was left in the boat.  We joked that it was the slowest docking ever for our boat but in reality, with an icy dock and rusty docking skills, it was a prudent decision.

We buttoned up the boat and paused for 5 minutes to enjoy a wee dram of Glen Livet to toast the day, as is our custom.  It was good to be back on the boat and to revive both her and ourselves from our winter doldrums.

Time Out

It's hard to believe that it hasn't yet been one year since we brought Ge Mara home from Nanaimo.  We've done and learned so much in the last ten months.  But the fiery red maple leaves on my street are a reminder to me that life has seasons and there is a time for everything.  This autumn has been a time to take a break from sailing.  With that said, our lovely boat isn't far from our homes or our thoughts.  Even as we focus our attention on the demands of work and changing personal circumstances the seeds of new adventures are taking root.

First on the list is the care and maintenance of the boat.  We promised ourselves that we would pull her out of the water at the end of the cruising season for a thorough inspection of her bottom and the inevitable maintenance that will result.  The bottom will be scraped, zinks replaced and at long last we will re-paint the transom.  This last item is important as it will facilitate the most important change of all;  Re-naming.

As I've alluded in the introduction to this blog, David and I settled on the name "Never Better" quite a while ago but it's been impossible to change the name until now because it can only be done by first taking the boat out of the water, removing the old decals, and sanding and repainting the transom.  Once that is accomplished we can proudly assign her new name and almost as important, her home port.  Nothing against Nanaimo but our boat lives with us in Vancouver now and her stern will certainly bear witness to that.

There is much lore around the subject of re-naming a boat and I won't go into that at the moment.  Suffice it to say we will have a bit of a party and honour the mixed and accumulated traditions of mariners over the centuries to properly respect the occasion.  I'm not much for superstition but this is an important occasion and we will give it the respect it deserves.

Once she is back in the water and suitably re-named we will set the boat up for winter.  This doesn't mean locking her down.  Rather we will prepare her for the more relaxed cruising schedule that winter affords.  Unnecessary and perishable provisions will be removed.  The electric heater will be turned on and set to keep the cabin from freezing in colder weather.  Cushions will be raised to reduce the tendency for moisture to accumulate in them and special attention will be paid to ventilation.

So for now she sits patiently in her slip like a retriever, bobbing contentedly and perhaps dreaming of new adventures to come.  The warm comfortable days of summer may be gone for now but soon the mountains will be covered in white and will make and even more stunning backdrop to our outings across the winter months.  Can't wait.

Lessons

So far I've tried to write this blog with a healthy dose of transparency.  I figure that if I'm going to share all the joys of owning and sailing a boat in Vancouver I might as well share the headaches and gaffs that go along with it, lest I seem like I'm bragging.  David and I carry very little pretension on the subject of sailing.  We knew going in that we were neophytes so why not laugh at our mistakes and let our friends laugh with us.

With that said, mistakes aren't much good if you don't learn anything from them.  Ergo I've decided to start concluding my trip  posts with a few words on "lessons learned."  Hopefully this will be an encouragement to friends or those of you from my sailing forum who may occasionally shake your heads at some of our stories.  So let's start with a few lessons from my last couple of trips:

The Importance of Planning

Sailing reminds me a bit of scuba diving in the sense that once you learn there is a temptation to become complacent.  Yet there are many ways to screw up even the simplest dive, and the simplest sail.  Every sail, no matter how casual, should take into consideration tides, wind daylight and the schedule of the passengers.  In particular on the last point, sailers take comfort in knowing there may be several contingencies in an emergency but not all of these may be convenient for the passengers.  

There 

Fuel Filters and Crazy Ivans - Part II

Please refer to the previous post for Part I

As we drifted dead-stick out into the Strait of Georgia, I could think of at least three reasons to be thankful.  The first was that our engine had quit as we left Porlier Pass and not as we entered it.  The other scenario would have been much more dangerous.  Second, there was a bit of a breeze and we were, after all, a sailboat.  Lastly the visibility had improved significantly since we left Telegraph Harbour and the sun was even trying to peek out in places.

Without waiting to tinker with the engine I immediately set the guys to raising the sails and soon we were underway.  Once the boat was under control we played a bit more with the engine but soon it was apparent that sailing was the only way we would be getting home.  I thought of a fourth reason to be thankful:  Earlier that year David and I purchased a one-year membership with C-Tow, which is sort of the nautical equivalent of AAA.  Once we were across the strait I would give them a call and someone would tow us back to our marina.  All we had to do was sail across the strait.

The course we were on was north of the one I had plotted to Pt. Grey, thanks to the direction of the wind.  I wasn't too concerned about this as we had all day to get home so we aimed Ge Mara's bow for roughly Gibsons and planned to tack back towards English Bay when we got about half way across.

In time the wind freshened and we were having a good sail.  We had one more good meal left for the trip and it was passing noon so Sean went below to prepare it.  He had promised us a sort of panini made with nearly-fresh focaccia bread, an assortment of ham and cured meats, fresh basil and boconcini.  I was at the helm while Sean worked on lunch below and soon he started to protest about being heeled over too much.  Things were starting to slide off the counter and he was having a difficult time controlling all of the ingredients he had laid out before him.  Sure enough, the wind was continuing to strengthen and we were heeling over even further.  Tom and I made further adjustments to the sail trim but we had two things working against us.  First, I had not been able to turn in to the cove to reef the main so we had full canvas up.  Second, I was flying my 150% genoa, a sail that was already much to large for the worsening conditions.  For the moment however, all was under control.

Soon the guys were scarfing down lunch and washing it down with our last bottle of wine.  They had fun taking pictures of their wine glasses with the boat so far heeled over.  I took my own turn to eat a short while later and with Tom at the helm.  After a while as we were cleaning up the lunch dishes, Tom called from up top. He was having trouble keeping the boat on course in the growing wind and we were starting to heel precariously in gusts.  It was time to make some adjustments.

Normally my procedure in this situation is to start the engine, head the boat directly into the wind and partially furl the genoa so we wouldn't be overpowered.  Unfortunately we couldn't do this as we had no engine.  I knew we needed to shorten sail but as new squalls blew through and the boat felt less and less under control, I began to fear that without an engine to fall back on I might be headed for trouble.  I elected to call C-Tow, as much for advice as to request a tow.

The man who picked up the phone at C-Tow asked me a few questions about the boat, the crew and our situation.  I explained that I had a fairly inexperienced crew and that I might be needing assistance sooner than I had planned.  Rather than working with me to this end, the guy asked me if I had a spare fuel filter.  To my embarrassment I said I wasn't sure and that I wouldn't really know what it looked like anyway.  He seemed aghast that I might be underway with no spare fuel filters and doubly so that I wasn't familiar with the procedure to replace one.  He went on to explain that the fuel filter was likely my problem and to essentially lecture me on the folly of not knowing more about engine maintenance.  I was speechless.

I gave up trying to get assistance from C-Tow and instead went back to the cockpit and proceeded to partially furl the genoa.  With this done the boat was a little more under control.  I considered trying to reef the main but remembering my last experience with trying this while in a stiff wind I elected not to.

Before long the weather threw a new challenge at us.  Just as fast as a big squall would come through and very nearly put us on our ear, the wind would die completely and we would lay becalmed.  Initially this lasted only a few moments but as the afternoon wore on the dead stretches lasted longer and longer.    Out of the corner of my eye I could see the guys glancing at their watches and eying the horizon for signs of the Vancouver shoreline.  I needed to get us home.

I re-dialed C-Tow and updated them on our situation.  At this point I informed the gentleman that in addition to being concerned about the squalls, we were for the moment becalmed and in all likelihood we would need a tow.  To my great surprise he was very reluctant to send someone out.  He explained that a tow for that distance would be very uncomfortable and would cost the local operator a lot of money.  I was flabbergasted.  Losing my patience I asked him just what good my annual membership was for if, while I was becalmed in the strait, I would have to argue with him to get a tow.  Shortly after he relented and said someone would be on the way.

As fate would have it, no sooner than I ended the call the wind picked up.  We pointed the boat back towards Vancouver which was now visible on the hazy horizon.  For the next two hours we manhandled the boat in the gusting winds toward English Bay.  The wind direction had changed again and we were now making great time, although the ride ranged from exciting to terrifying.  Occasionally we had to furl the headsail again when things got too hairy, only to need it all back out a few moments later.  It was all rather exhausting.  Along the way we came up with another sailboat of similar size.  He was heeled over dangerously, showing us more of his bottom then I'm sure he cared to.  It was obvious he too was having trouble with the weather and together we sailed closer to home.

In due course we approached English Bay and it was clear we were going to make it most of the way back without the aid of a tow.  I was happy about this but irked in another way that there was no sign of our assistance from C-Tow.  Finally as we sailed into the strait a distinctive orange boat motored up to us and a very good natured young guy hailed us.  He was a refreshing change from the man on the phone, sympathetic to our plight and eager to help.  We still had wind so we sailed for a while longer while he motored nearby.  After a while the wind died and he came along side and rigged us for a tow. As this was going on we doused Ge Mara's sails for the last time that trip, thankful to be done with the wind.  As we sat in the cockpit while being towed in towards Coal Harbour I relaxed for the first time since that morning.

Getting a tow into Coal Harbour

As we approached the marina our attendant once again came along side and explained that as we got closer to the marina he would have to raft along side rather than towing us.  I was concerned about this because there are some large yachts tied up along our dock and it might be tight for the two of us to maneuver towards my slip tied beside each other.  I convinced him to take me to the tip of the dock and untie us while still under power.  This would give us the momentum we would need to glide along the dock and ultimately into our slip.  He was concerned about this but ultimately agreed and executed the maneuver perfectly.

As we ghosted along towards our slip I felt like this last challenge of docking without the aid of the engine would go ok.  We had just enough momentum to get there.  But then, incredibly, a new challenge presented itself.

As we approached our slip I realized that it wasn't empty.  The marina is allowed to rent out the space when we are gone but we were very clear about our return time.  Now as we glided in with no engine with which to maneuver or reverse, we couldn't turn in and were headed instead directly for a brand new Boston Whaler tied up at the end of the finger.  A collision was inevitable.

One of of us must have done something good that day because, thank God, another slip was open very near the end.  We would be taking someone else's space but at least we could bring the boat in safely and without incident.  I turned in towards it and the guys stepped off onto the dock and had her tied up nicely a moment later.

I was so incensed about my slip being occupied and the collision that very nearly occurred as a result, I didn't wait to walk to the marina office but instead raised the night watchman on the VHF radio.  When I told him there was a large powerboat from Oregon in my slip he asked me to stand-by.  A moment later after checking the register he confirmed that yes, there was a boat in my slip and that it was scheduled to be there for a few more days.  I stared at the radio speechless and then after moment I started to smile and thanked him for confirming what I already knew.  There would be time to deal with the Marina's administrative bungling later.  For now I was just very glad to be safely home.

I gratefully accepted a rum and coke from one of the guys and sat down exhausted.  It had been a long day full of lessons that I would later think about in great detail.