Vacation Time

My boat is back in the water and ready for action.  I have gone from having a mooring in Milwaukee to a mooring in Oconto.  It is a little over an hour north of me, but it's still close enough that I can get out for a good sail if I have the day off.
I was planning on selling the boat because...well, that's what I do.  Posting it online was all too easy.  Adding pictures to the ebay listing, or the ad on craigslist made me nitpick and see all of the imperfections that I realized would make her difficult to sell.  One day I decided to head up and make sure nothing had been damaged over the winter months.  I hadn't been on my boat since October, and here I was well into June before making my first visit.  As soon as I saw my Glander Cay, I began to have reservations about selling her.  Instantly upon stepping aboard I realized that I didn't want anyone else to have her.  I had gotten such a good deal on a boat that not many would appreciate, and up to that point in the year, all I could think of was dollar signs.  Once I saw the potential again first hand, I pretty much decided that I'd hang onto her until I was offered six times what I paid for her, or until she was not longer fit to sail.  A good solid hull that is as well traveled as this one is not usually cheap.  Anyway.
The mooring was fairly inexpensive, and it meant that I could get out on the Bay much quicker because I wouldn't have to motor down the river all the way from Hi-Seas Marina.  It also meant that I had to find a way to get out to my boat without a dock.  Previously it had been warm, and I was accustomed to placing my clothes in a drybag, and swimming out to my boat.  The first time I had done this was the night I tied her to the new mooring.  I had motored the mile or so from the marina to the mooring, tied off, and tidied up a bit.  To get to shore I swam, fought through the reeds and lily pads, then changed back into my clothes in a nearby restroom.  The bright green drybag I had picked up with my Cabela's gift card did wonderfully.  My clothes were still bone dry.  I began my hike back in the rain down the dark county road.  I made it most of the way there before getting picked up by a kind man in a Ford Ranger.  The interior of his truck suggested that he was a chain smoker.  He explained to me that he was just doing his second good deed for the day.
Fast forward to now.  I found out that I get a week's paid vacation because I have been at my current job for over a year.  Time off being like money in my pocket burning to be used up, I took the first available week in September to do a cruise.  I wanted to take advantage of what little "warm" weather we have left.  Wisconsin has been insufferably cold and wet this summer, and I had a feeling that sailing in October again would not be nearly as pleasant as last year.
The plan is to leave on Monday, sail up through the Green Bay, and stop at islands along the way.  Chamber's island is about 6 hours away from Oconto.  Washington Island is another 6 north of that.  After sleeping on one of these little beauties, I will get to go up and explore Rock Island, St. Martins Island, Plum Island, Poverty Island, and many others.  The area is known as Death's Door, or Porte Des Morts by the French.  After studying the cruising charts I can begin to see why there are over 250 shipwrecks in such a small area.  The Niagara Escarpment (the rock the giant falls are carved out of) extends past the tip of the peninsula and occasionally juts up into an island.  There are multitudes of rocky shoals near the islands.  The depth quickly goes from 100' to 3' in some areas.  I'm sure I'll be glad to have such a shallow draft boat designed for island hopping.

Photoless

I've had a few pretty good days when I've been able to get out and enjoy all of the goodies the Sheboygan has to offer in the summer time.  A friend of mine who I haven't seen in 3 years came back to Wisconsin with her husband for a couple weeks.  It was really good to see her and catch up on all that has changed over the years.  It's so weird to look back at who you were, and see who you've become.
Tuesday I tried going sailing with my brothers and sister.  It was a really gusty west wind.  Getting out of the slip was a test in timing.  Then when we got out the wind was directly behind us and the helm wouldn't answer.  There was too much pressure on one side of the boat.  I had to keep running forward to fend off other boats.  In the end we almost got blown up against the rocks.  Max and I cut our feet jumping off and pushing the boat away.  I think Max has had that experience each time he's been sailing with me.  I would much rather ram my $5000 boat into the rocks than have it even brush up against the $300,000 racing yacht at the end of my dock.  We finally got back to my slip with a little help from a local boater who took a line from us and walked us over.  It was another frustrating day, but we quickly decided to grab the snorkeling gear and dive off the pier.  I practiced holding my breath while walking on the bottom with weight belts.  I think 20 pounds was a bit intense to use for a long time in 12 foot deep water.  My lungs got a good workout though.
The next day I coordinated with a few people to go cliff diving at the local quarry in the morning.  I woke up at 4:45 and we drove over before dawn to dive 20 feet into the lukewarm lake below.  It's a nice rush to wake you up, but because the air was so much colder than the water, we didn't really get out much, we just treaded water for an hour.  At first I wasn't sure if it was legal or not there (that's why we go so early in the morning), but then when we got there we found a sign that asked people not to dump garbage and tables into the quarry.  It said nothing about diving, and there was a knotted rope tied to a tree, making it easier to get back up.... clearly an invitation to dive. 
So after diving and stopping at Big Apple Bagels for breakfast we relaxed in the hot tub for about an hour.  I almost fell asleep cause it was so warm.  The wind was still pretty fresh.  My friend and her husband had never been sailing before, and my other friend who came along had only gone sailing briefly on the 4th of July.  We tried heading out under just main but ran into the same problem of having too much weather helm.  It dawned on me to try heading out under just jib seeing as the wind was coming from behind.  It worked beautifully, and I was able to navigate out of the harbor with no issues. 
One thing we realized after we got out was that the wind was so strong that it would have been stupid to put the main up.  It was the only time I've ever sailed any boat by jib.  I couldn't point as high into the wind, and often I would have to do a huge gybe cause I couldn't get her to go up into the wind and tack.  The waves built up to 4 feet and we had some fun crashing over those.  All of the stuff on my shelves fell down in the cabin.  I think it's funny how much housekeeping I have to do every time I go sailing.  Just think about purposefully putting your house in an earthquake for fun and expecting all the dishes to stay in place.
It was a challenge to tack back into the harbor after a couple hours of sailing, but I think everyone enjoyed the experience.  I learned a lot about sailing in high winds and with less than favorable sail trim.  (I really wish I had self tailing winches, but they are super expensive).
After sailing I worked from 2:00 to 8:00 and then headed back to hang out.  We played a game called fugitive.  Basically it's like tag, hide n' seek, and cross country practice all in one.  You get a group of people starting at one location and they try to get to another area (about 2 miles away) in a specified amount of time while 2 spotters chase everyone down in a car.  If you get spotted by the car then you have to get in the car and try to catch the other runners.  It's good fun, but kind of a work out.  Then we had a bon-fire of an old couch and some Christmas lights.  The copper in the wiring made an electric blue/green flame.  Very cool to see.
On another day they came down at 5:30 so we could go kayaking before work.  It's a good way to start the day.  The lake was peaceful as I glided across the water in a "borrowed" kayak from the Sea Scouts.  (I put it back).  We went over by the beach to practice Eskimo rolls.  I decided to stay above water this time, but someday soon I really want to perfect the art of flipping the kayak right side up without falling out.  We surfed the kayaks on a few small waves for around an hour before putting them away.  I love summer by the beach here in Sheboygan.  I love living on a boat because it's all so much more accessible to me.  Whenever I want to go for an early morning run, or swim, or whatever I can.  The only regret I have is that I have no photographic proof of any of this happening.

Put to the test

All was set for our epic voyage across the 64 mile expanse of water known as Lake Michigan.  After 12 hours of work I quickly darted over to Wal-Mart and spent a surprising amount of money on some last minute safety items and food.  I picked up some water and Mountain Dew (to keep myself awake), a few sandwiches, a flare gun, some heavy rope to use as jack lines, and some flashlights.  Adam and Gavin were waiting for me down at the marina with their duffel bags packed with the gear they anticipated using.  After transferring the stuff to my boat and putting my laundry baskets in the back of my Mom's van we were set to depart.  There was still no sign of Spencer.  I was really hoping he would be on time so we could get out of the harbor as soon as possible.  I couldn't imagine why he would be late since he only lives 2 blocks away from the water.  I called him as we walked down the dock.  "Where are you?" I asked, "Marshfield. Why?" was the reply.  Now my Wisconsin geography is not that good, but I could tell that he wasn't going to be there in the next 15 minutes.  "Don't worry, I'll be there by morning." he said.  Apparently he was not on the same wavelength that all the rest of us were.  At first I got mad cause he flaked out, but then I figured it was just his loss.  I didn't realize at the time how much it would have helped to have another helmsman aboard. 
I wrapped the sparkling grape juice bottle in a plastic bag to catch the debris and smacked it hard against the bow to finally christen Aequitas.  Yeah the bag split and shattered glass went all over.  Oops!
We untied the mooring lines, secured the dinghy to a short painter attached to the stern and headed out silently.  It took quite a few tacks to get out, but I had expected light winds for the first few hours of the trip anyway.  I fired up the GPS which proved indispensable in the pitch black night.  It was a very young moon, and a very cloudy night.  We had a hard time finding the angle of the wind because it was too dark to see my telltales.  I tried to steer by the GPS, but light winds make that difficult.  We slowly made our way East away from civilization.  I could still see the lights from Sheboygan hours after leaving, it was a bit frustrating.  Eventually we left it all behind and the only glow came from the solar powered stern light I had taped to the rail.  Adam and Gavin had no problem heading below and sleeping.  I downed a couple sodas and sat at my station steering from 9:30 till about 3:00 am.  Gavin took over while I tried to catch some sleep in the port quarter berth.  I found it difficult to sleep with all the caffeine in my system, and the rocking of the boat.  Everything sounds much more ominous when you're down below.  The mast reverberating through the hull, the sails slapping as as we pounded over waves.  Just the sound of water passing by the keel made it sound as though water was trickling into the engine compartment.  I got up to check it once with a flashlight only to find it bone dry.  I finally settled down resting my head against the rubber fenders we had stowed below.  I was just drifting off to sleep when we gybed accidentally.  I heard the commotion and tried to sit bolt upright in my bunk only to be reminded painfully of the metal radio bracket hanging down at exactly eye-brow height.  I was glad it wasn't my eye, but it hurt.....a lot.

We got back on course and I tried to sleep a bit more.  I think I dozed for half an hour, but didn't actually feel rested.  I took over at the helm again for quite some time.  According to the GPS we were only averaging 2.9 MPH.  The sky gradually got lighter and lighter.  Adam got up around 4:45 to keep me company.  It was nice to finally be able to see the boat around me, and to have a small point of reference.  There was a small patch in the cloudy sky that was lighter than the rest, so I took it to mean I was at least heading towards the sun.  I had a couple pop-tarts but they didn't agree with my stomache.  I didn't get sea sick at all the whole trip, but it made sleep nearly impossible.  I think it was just the fact that I had stayed up too late.  By now I had been awake for nearly 22 hours.  I went to the forward cabin to see if it was any easier to sleep there.  I noticed that the forward berth was subject to more of the boat's pitching as we crested over waves.  Not too comfy.  Adam took a turn steering along a GPS course through some of the stronger winds as I drifted in and out of consciousness.  I suppose I really should have kept better track of when our watches were.  I was up again by 7:00 to steer again.  We were nearing the center line of the lake.  It felt as though we were crawling west and we would never reach even the halfway point, let alone Michigan itself.  The wind kept dying as well, so we were not making the progress I had hoped.  I was still counting on the 19 MPH winds the forecast had promised me.
It was an interesting feeling to be completely out of sight of land.  We felt completely alone knowing that there was no one around for miles, and no solid point of reference.  I think this was when Gavin's seasickness really started to kick in. 

As we inched closer and closer to the halfway point, and I got more and more exhausted I came to realize we weren't going to make it.  I guess when you're cruising you really shouldn't have a tight schedule.  The reason I was so miserable was because I had pushed my body to stay awake and concentrate longer than I should have just so we could make it there and back in time for work.  The GPS would keep calculating how long it would take based on current speed and heading.  Even 30 miles out it was still allotting us 16-18 hours to reach Pentwater.  I informed my crew that we'd make it at least over the middle line then turn back.  There was no point in seeing how far we could go just to be stubborn.  Thus far I was proud of my little boat, but annoyed at the fickle and weak wind. 
We drifted here and there, tacked to try and find better wind, and eventually passed the center line without even knowing it.  A little over 32 miles out we turned and headed for home with what little wind there was coming across out port quarter.  Adam and Gavin donned wetsuits and life jackets and got dragged back to the Wisconsin side of the lake.  The 900 foot deep water was insanely clear and dark blue.  We dropped a few cans of soda into a bag and lowered it into the freezing depths to act as a refrigerator.  It wasn't until we let out about 30 feet of line that we finally lost sight of it. 

We played around, but my mood steadily deteriorated as I got more and more tired.  I was not having fun on my maiden voyage.  I'm supposed to be the one that loves sailing no matter what no matter when.  There are some things I've learned I don't actually like.  I hate being over tired, I hate not having wind, and I hate the little black horse flies that seemed to have an insatiable appetite for human ankles. 

At 28 miles out the wind and waves kicked up and blew us quickly along.  The speedometer quickly registered that we were regularly going 6.8-7.3 MPH which is pretty dang fast for my boat.  At one point I wasn't sure how much stress my jury rigged back stay could take so I called everyone up from their slumber to help reef in the main.  It was an exercise in futility.  We tried to head into the wind but kept falling off.  I guess I wasn't a pro at heaving to quite yet.

We went back to what we were doing before.  Adam: sleeping below.  Gavin: sleeping in the cockpit trying not to vomit, and me: gripping the tiller tight and keeping a wary eye on my fresh rigging and 40 year old boat.  The GPS recalculated that the return journey would only take 6 or 7 hours vs. the 13 it took us to get out. I was glad that we'd get in before sundown, and maybe still do something fun with the rest of the day.  We blasted along towards Sheboygan until about 10 miles out we got hit by random squalls of rain, and variable winds.  The waves remained, but the wind couldn't make up its mind.  I had never seen the wind go from so fast to completely dead before. 

After a bit of waiting and spinning in circles I was able to conjure up enough speed to get us to the harbor, then 2.75 miles out the wind was gone.  Completely gone and not showing any signs of returning.  The waves were still strong and snapped the sails back and forth so violently that I was sure any breath of air there may have been was instantly spilled out.  I think this is when it all became too much for Gavin and he lost his meager lunch over the side.  I got so frustrated at the lack of wind.  I was really kicking myself for not having the engine.  It wouldn't be bad, but we were so close, the weather was just mocking me now.  Thick fog rolled in and a thunderstorm passed over head.  I draped a shroud over the side so that if we did get struck by lightning hopefully we wouldn't all explode in a fireball.  In the end I got so fed up I hopped in the dinghy and began rowing the boat.  I could have radioed the Coast Guard, but then I thought about how much they might charge for their services and decided to just row and row and row.  My arms are a bit chafed from the repetitions sweeping across my life jacket (our mom's would be so happy, we wore them whenever we were out of the cabin).  According to the GPS I was moving us at 1.1 MPH for about a half mile.  A small breeze kicked up and I returned to Aequitas to try and sail in.  A few fishing boats motored past us, though we could hear them more than we could see them.
The sun set behind the fog bank as we gradually made our way in.  At one point I was relying wholly on the GPS just so we wouldn't hit the lighthouse cause I couldn't see through soup like air.  As luck would have it, as soon as we rounded the breakwater the wind picked up again and drove us straight for my dock.  In fact it was almost too strong and it took a lot of effort to slow us down as we put into the slip. 
As soon as we tied off the exhaustion made it hard to fight off apathy.  We got the sails folded properly, and most everything tidied up.  I said goodbye to Adam and Gavin and headed straight for the hot tub.  I was met there by my perpetually drunk German neighbor.  As I tried to relax he kept going on and on about how stupid my boating is.  He said he respected me for trying so hard, but I do it all in a very pigheaded way.  I go out when there's no wind and get bitten by black flies (how he knew about that I'll never know), saying that it's all well and good that I can sail engine less, but that I'm creating more of a headache for myself and a hazard for others boats than I should.  I could see his point and was definitely getting discouraged quickly.  I love sailing, but I had sold myself so much on this idea of long distance cruising being the life for me, but after just 75 miles I was beat.  I think a lot of the distress can be chalked up to the timetable I was under.  Next cruise I'm going to take a week off of work and just get there when I get there. 
On a side note, my phone had started roaming about 12 miles out and so the battery drained within a few hours.  I put on dry clothes and staggered like a zombie the 2 or so miles over to my mom's house to get my phone charger and check my facebook.  I have never been so exhausted in my life, and hope I never am again.  I don't even want to think about how many hours I was actually awake for this whole venture, but next time I'll have people to take over.

Snooty people and stormy seas

The new shrouds I bought are like brand new guitar strings in that they stretch a little bit over the first few uses and it must constantly be tuned until the stretch is gone.  After my solo sail I noticed that the shrouds were getting a bit loose.  They're still not loose enough for the stay extenders to reach, but I'm still hoping I'll be able to get them to work.  Yesterday I had four of my brothers out sailing with me.  There was a good stiff breeze, and we were heeled over significantly the whole time.  I had Spencer steer for a little bit so I could walk around and see what it's like to be aboard while crashing through the seas.  I got very disoriented in the cabin because we were tilted over so far and my mind wanted me to stand straight up inside like I was used to.  It was like standing in your bedroom and then all of a sudden having the gravity shift and start pulling you over to one wall.  Very odd.

The only other boat out there was Evolution, a big racing boat (Sant Cruz 70 I think).  She's pretty boat, and they were sailing just under jib for a bit.  The forecast calls for thunderstorms all week, so I guess that's where the wind was coming from.  We got a few miles offshore but then the fog rolled in and we decided to turn around.  Even though I couldn't see the lighthouse until we were almost on top of it, I was happy with how well I had located the harbor just based on my feeling of where we were on the lake.  I should invest in a GPS though for longer cruises.
We headed in under sail and got to the dock just fine.  Common courtesy is to help anyone you see coming in to dock.  My problem is that I don't like accepting help from people, especially when I don't need it and they are getting in the way.  I had plenty of brothers to moor safely, but still there were 3 people lined up on the dock.  Spencer and I jumped off and had to shove past the people to tie off normally.  Initially I had thrown a line to a guy but he didn't wrap it around the cleat and wasn't slowing the boat down at all, so I had to take over.  I appreciate their neighborly feelings, but when I've got it covered I really don't like help.  I have one neighbor who seems to judge me for everything I do.  He doesn't appreciate that I'm just starting up, I don't have much money, but I'm still making it work.  He must be one of the types that believes sailing should be reserved for those that can afford the best.  I don't know how he could be because his boat isn't all that fresh and new.  It's just the tone of voice people take when they disapprove of you, when they think their way is the only way.  He brought up the fact that I don't have an engine on board.  He seemed to think it was a huge liability.  He couldn't understand why I would do it that way.  I like having the extra storage where the engine would be, (and I'm cheap), and I like knowing that I have the skill to get in and out of a situation without relying on a crutch.  I'm not saying engines are bad, but I bought a sailboat to sail it.  I can't really go into all the details, but the few exchanges I've had with this individual have led to an intense disliking.  Oh well, he can think he's better than me all he wants, I have plenty of people supporting me, and I hope to improve my skills bit by bit as I go.  Despite appearances, I do in fact know what I'm doing.

This morning I awoke to some loud pinging noise as my halyards were slapping up against the mast.  I usually keep them tidy enough that that doesn't happen.  I ignored it for a while, then became aware of the sound of rain tapping on the deck.  I sat up groggily and opened the foreward hatch to see a storm swiftly kicking up.  The wind howled through my rigging, the 5am sky was lit up with lightning every few seconds.  There was no thunder so I knew the storm was a little ways off.  I checked my main hatch and determined that no rain was coming in so I could leave the top board out.  All of a sudden a massive gale blew through.  My boat, (though it was tied firmly to the dock) heeled over almost as if I was sailing again.  The light rain became a torrential downpour, and the lightning was striking very close by.  It sounded as though cannons were being shot across the marina.  I hoped that my 35 foot tall aluminum mast wouldn't attract too much electricity.  I wasn't sure if there was one vital part of boat ownership that I had overlooked.  I have a grounding plat on the bottom of my boat, but the mast isn't attached to it, and I'm pretty sure it's just for the radio, I have no clue how it would hold up in a thunderstorm.  What happens to a boat if it get struck by lightning?  What happens to the people inside?  Luckily my boat is not even close to being the tallest in the harbor, but I couldn't help feeling very vulnerable in my little floating home.  My mom texted me to make sure I was still alive, she tried to get me to come home, but I figured I'd be fine.  In about half an hour the storm blew over and I was left just with the rain.  There was a slight drip onto my sleeping bag that kept me up for a little bit, but nothing too bad.  In the morning it was all calm, but apparently lightning had struck the marina and knocked out the VHF radio for a bit.  I'm glad it wasn't me.  I guess the storm woke up a lot of people on land as well, so it's not just me being melodramatic, but I probably hed the worst of it.  I wouldn't be surprised if there had been a water spout during this blow.  Next time I'll be sure to keep my camera with me though.
Thanks for reading!  Feel free to comment below.

Chores yet to do.

I was able to get over to the boat before all the dew had been dried up by the sun.  I used an old towel to wipe the moisture away so I could begin work.  A little bit more sanding, and another two coats of paint finished off the transom.  It is now gleaming in "china white", and ready to have a name painted on it.  I have decided on the name, but I'll explain that later.
I still need power tools to get the rest of the flooring up in the cabin.  I can't wait to get down there and level it all out so I can rebuild the floor.  I am looking forward to having another 2" of headroom, and a solid surface to walk on.  I am also hoping that the musty smell will go away after I get everything vacuumed up and repainted in the engine compartment.  While I was waiting for coats of paint to dry I curled up in the foreward berth for a few minutes.  It was surprisingly comfortable.  I let my mind wander a bit; I love thinking of when she'll actually be in the water heading off to distant horizons.  I can just imagine diving off of the bow pulpit to help set a heavy anchor in the sand near a tropical reef.  I'd love to bring a surfboard along wherever I go because you never know when you'll find that perfect wave. 
The Sheboygan Sea Scout skipper, Tom, just happened to be driving by.  I showed him my new boat for the first time.  He was kind enough to give me a few names of people who might be able to help me inspect the diesel engine and make sure it's ready to go.  I've always wanted to have an inboard so I can charge up my batteries with the alternator, and so I don't have to strap an ugly outboard onto my freshly painted transom.  There are pros and cons of every set up on a boat, but I think I've found the perfect compromise with everything my boat has. 
I'm hoping to be able to borrow some tools from my grandma (cause we all know she's never gonna use a circular saw) to speed up the work.  The chores I have yet to do are as follows (in no particular order):  install dorade vents, buff out the plexiglass windows so their transparent again, oil all the woodwork and rub rails, remove the rest of the cabin sole, drain and dry the foam insulation, level the cabin floor support, rebuild the cabin sole, re-seat all the stanchions, repair and re-seat the veneer on my deck hatch box, caulk seams on some of the woodwork, clean and paint the engine compartment, repack the rudder bearings, inspect and install the engine (and all parts), clean the head [toilet], inspect the septic tank, mount bow stanchions and hand rail, mount the mast step, paint the bottom with anti-fouling paint, and then buff and wax the whole hull.  It should be fun.  I really am looking forward to it.  A lot of it is just cosmetic, some of it is just preventative maintenance, and some (like the cabin sole) needs to be done. 
Of course I also have to paint the name on her transom. I'll let y'all know my decision in a later post.  I hope to get some before and after pictures up pretty soon as well.  Thanks for reading!