Boat Owners Again

 

Patrick, Kenzie, Finn & Fjord in front of our 1980 Ericson 30

These are but a few glimpses into the wonderful (and expensive) world of sailing in which we find ourselves.  

Story time:

Back in December I was doing my hourly scan of  Craigslist to see if I could find anything.  Lo and behold I see and ad for a 30' Ericson sloop for cheap...like MY price range cheap.  I put it in my mind, and contacted the owners right away.  After I dropped Kenzie and the boys off in Utah, I figured I would make the most of my airport run and check out the boat while I was down in town [Honolulu].  I saw the boat, it looked to be sold, but the previous owners lived aboard for nearly 4 years and it was covered in junk.  The interior looked scary, there were empty prescription bottles everywhere, so many cigarete butts, and a few bongs lying around.  Anyway, fast forward a few months.  I kept tabs on the boat, waiting for when they would actually pull the trigger to sell it.  Finally in May they were ready.  I went down to scrape the bottom clean.  As I worked on the boat, and they moved their stuff off, the guy started freaking out because I was getting too close to the through hulls and he was worried I'd cause a leak.  That troubled me.  I spent a couple hours chipping barnacles off of the bottom of the boat.  It looked like an alien landscape!  There were so many tube worms, crabs, and soft corals that I was pretty sure I saw some new species I had never witnessed in the coral reefs around the island.  After cleaning it, we went back down the next day to hopefully sail it away to a new dock.  In the end, we did all the paperwork and stayed at the Ke'ehi Small Boat Harbor temporarily for about 3 weeks.  It was right under the airport takeoff zone, so it got kinda loud. 

On our first sail out, we brought along some friends and decided to just sail the whole way.  I swam a line out to a pillar in the bay, pulled the boat back and let us drift so we were pointing into the wind, then popped up the jib (which ended up being a tiny sail, almost a storm jib) and shoved off.  We started sailing in the gusty weather...the wrong way.  We headed back to a dock, almost bumped into another boat.  Finally got her flipped around, and went sailing.  It was all pretty uneventful, till we started coming back in.  Other guys came out on their sailboat to rescue us.  They respected me for trying to do it all with sail, but thought it was foolhardy with the kids aboard, and the reef being so close.  The channel to get in and out of the harbor is about 500' wide, and very long.  It takes a good half hour just to get OUT of the harbor.  As the guys pulled close in their 27' albin vega sloop, a pod of dolphins came to play.  They put on quite the show!  They would dive under the boats, hop in the air, twirl, and converge as the rode down the face of a wave.

Riley, a skipper who lives on a Dreadnought 32 when he's not playing "deadliest catch" up in Alaska hopped across from one boat to ours.  He took over.  Normally my pride would have been injured, but it was the first time on a new boat in a new harbor in a new ocean.  I was a little reluctant to hand over the helm, but at the same time willing to learn.  We put up the mainsail to balance out the rig and allow us to tack.  We were able to head back in all the way up the long channel and tie up at an end dock safely.  Riley went through at least 4 beers completing this maneuver.  We then "hip-tied" an inflatable dinghy to the side, and motored to a dock.  Hopefully we get better at this docking and undocking thing.

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.

Strictly Sail

Recently in Chicago they had a boat show entirely devoted to sailboats.  I had to go.
Luckily for myself I had a spare day off of work saved up for just such an occasion.  One thing that I don't like about Chicago is that it takes about $5 in tolls to get there.  After navigating the horrendous downtown traffic, parking next to several exotic cars, and using a subway restaurant purely for the restroom, I was on my way to the boat show.  The windy city certainly earned its title that day as wind chills threatened to freeze my ears and nose off.  The idea that I was going to soon see so many new sailboats was more than enough to get me to walk briskly over to the Navy Pier.
I had never been to the Pier before, and I highly recommend it.  I'm not sure who's idea it was to put suck light things like 50 foot sailboats on the second floor while reserving the ground level for heavy artifacts like stained glass windows, but I digress.  As soon as I had my bright paper bracelet on my wrist I was off with my trusty DSLR camera to tour the sloops and take as many pictures as I could.  All around there were offerings from Catalina, Jeanneau, Benetau, Hunter, and many more.  Sizes ranged from tiny kayaks and inflatable dinghies on up to a Beneteau Sense 50.  I was in heaven.
Although I am a fan of old classic looking boats with long, full keels, I couldn't help but be awestruck at the beautiful dual helms, plumb bows, and beamy sterns of these modern racer cruisers.  It has always amazed me how much space can be found in a 30 by 10 space.  I am not quite sure if I can pick a favorite boat yet.  They each had their own charm.  The Blue Jacket 40 certainly seemed to be a favorite of the cruising community with its rich wood and chrome interior.  The Com Pac yachts had interesting choices in the sub-30 foot category.  One yacht of particular interest was the chubby Com Pac 23 Motor sailor.  With a stout pilot house one could choose either to steer with the tiller at the stern, or the shiny helm wheel tucked safely below.
Several vendors were set up pedaling their inflatable life jackets, propane powered outboards, carbon fiber winches and the like.  I did get to try my hand at grinding away on a large Harken pedestal winch.  I had the second fastest time [to do 20 revolutions] of the day.  
Some boats sacrificed all of the usable space in order to achieve greater speed.  A 27 foot boat that could hardly sleep two seems a bit of a waste to me, but I'm sure the racers out there can't understand how a cruiser can make due with such a heavy hull and such small sails.  I guess everyone has their own taste, and there's a craft for each.  As far as racers go, the most stunning boat of the day had to be the old Shields classone-design sloop.  A full keel racing boat with long over hangs and a very fine transom had all the telltale signs of boat plans drawn in a bygone era.  Favoring minimal wetted surface area over having a longer waterline was the norm back in the day.  Although it was one of those longer boats that are good for no more than racing and daysailing, I would take one in a heartbeat.
Pictures to follow.

Moving on at summer's end

Sorry it's been so long since I've written anything.  It is more an indication that there is a lot going on in my life, not that there's nothing to report.   After my week of solid sailing, I had an off week where I did almost no sailing at all.  I need to keep in mind that this blog is about more than just sailing.  So I guess we will find out together that there is more to life.  One Monday I was sitting at work and I realized that I only had three or four weeks before my boat had to be out of the water.  The temperature here has already started to drop at the rate of about 10 degrees per month.  It may not seem like much, but the first few mornings when I awoke to 50 degrees on the thermometer were not fun.  Anyway, as I was sitting contemplating what to do with my remaining time I couldn't help thinking of how much I still wanted to sail to another city, at least once this summer.  After a quick scan of the weather report I called two of my brothers and set up a voyage for that night.  It was to be the last full moon of the sailing season, and the wind looked to be pretty strong.  There are two cities equidistant from Sheboygan, one North and one South.  I intended to go to Port Washington which lies to the south about 25 miles away.
We met up at my Mom's house and made a last minute run to the store to pick up beef jerky and granola bars.  Down at the marina the 20+ MPH winds were making it very difficult to raise the sails.  I made the call to reef the main and not put up the jib just yet.  We shoved off of the dock easily enough, but since the wind was blowing strong directly out of the south I had to tack to get out of the harbor.  Reefing in the main had changed the shape of the sail a bit and made it impossible to point as high into the wind as I needed to to get out.  Spencer had the brilliant idea to drop anchor while we sorted it out.  Yes we did get blown up against the rocks again, and we did in the end have to fend off the massive racing yacht moored innocently to her T-dock, but shhh! don't tell anyone.  There was no damage done to either vessel, unless you count leaving a small footprint sized smudge in the wax coat as damage. 
A nice guy in his tiny aluminum fishing boat came up and offered to help tow.  We had to drop sail while he revved the little engine to its limits.  Spencer hurt his hand trying to hold the rope instead of tying it off.  I was glad that he actually helped us out of the harbor, and not just back to the dock, and I was amazed that his little outboard could pull my 6,000 pound boat against such a fierce wind.
Eventually we were let loose out in the harbor back lit by a brilliant full moon.  We sped past the lighthouse and were half a mile out in the lake before we got the main lashed back onto the boom.  It was far too windy out there to use both sails.  I tried heading up into the wind, but it was impossible using just the jib. We called mom and let her know that we would be heading North to Manitowoc instead of Port Washington, that way at least if we were lost at sea someone would know where to look for us.
The GPS showed us making awesome progress, and it wasn't until 4 in the morning that the wind actually began to shift and die a bit.  I had to wake my crew up to help raise the main, and then they went back to sleep.  I think Spencer slept most of the trip.  The rollers would chase us down and pass under the stern while the dinghy kept trying to surf and slam into the boat.  I let both of my brothers take turns at the helm.  It was much nicer having a crew that was more confident at steering so I could get a better quality catnap.  The wind had blown us pretty far offshore; we had about 7 miles to make up getting back in to Manitowoc.  We were all exhausted and at about 7 in the morning we decided to just drop anchor off of a beach and sleep there rather than trying to make it into the harbor.  I didn't want to have to radio anyone or pay any fees.  We threw out both anchors in about 7 feet of water.  The waves slammed us about a bit, and the wind kept howling through the bare rigging as I tried to rest.  In the end I had to go up on deck, stow the sails better, and bring in the main anchor because the chain was just too loud for me in the foreword cabin.  I slept till around 10:30, bailed out the dinghy, and gave my brothers a rude awakening when I had the jib set and called for them to come bring in the anchor.  It was the first and only time we ever had to use the windlass.  I had let out about 60 feet of line, and the 20 pound anchor had dug itself well into the sand.  Finally we cranked it in and swung around back for home.  We never stepped foot in Manitowoc that day, but we were only a couple hundred yards away from their lighthouse, so it still counts.
As we cruised past a the inlets for a power plant several cormorants took flights and began their daily dive for meals.  The scenery was gorgeous.  We stayed close to the shore so we could see better details of the houses and golf courses that we sailed past.  There were no other boats in sight, and there seemed to be a profound silence on land for the first few hours.  We dispelled this by blasting whatever was loaded onto the iPod on board.  I must say that it was a rather eclectic collection of tunes, but luckily the tiny speakers couldn't reach far enough to bother anyone not on my boat...  Perhaps out off-key singing of Styx: Come Sail Away would have though.
We got home at about 5 in the evening to find my younger brother, Liam, waiting at the dock with his surfboard.  Spencer left after helping to stow the sails; Max and I went to watch Liam surf for a bit.  He did quite well for a rookie on tiny waves.  I was unsteady on my feet for a few hours as I got used to dry land again.  I can't remember much more, other than that I was really hungry when we got home.  It was a great cruise, I learned more.  It was a bit more enjoyable, but sailing is not the quickest way to get anywhere.  I am becoming more and more aware that the boat I have may not be the best one for what I need in my life right now.
I have finally decided to stop putting it off and head to college.  Maybe I needed this summer to see what type of sailing I really do like; what type of boat will I really use, or if I am really up to the lofty goals I have set.  I do fully believe that a Bristol 24 could carry someone across the Atlantic comfortably, I just don't think I have the time or resources right now to pursue that goal, and rather than sink any more money into Aequitas I think I will travel by plane and by foot, by train and by car for a while.  I have put my boat up for sale on the Internet and will hope to recoup some of the costs so that I may fund my education, and perhaps some of my travels.  It is a bittersweet feeling.  They say that the two happiest days in a sailor's life are the day he buys his boat, and the day he finally sells it.  Maybe I just need to get a little trailer-sailor so I can haul it with me wherever I may go and take advantage of both coasts and inland lakes without needing professional transport or a huge truck.
It is sad though knowing that the trip to Manitowoc was my last time sailing her.  I have been sleeping on the couch at my mom's house for a couple weeks now because it's gotten too cold in the marina.  I'll miss her when she's gone, and if she doesn't sell, I won't mind if she sticks around for a few years so at some later date I may revisit my dreams of cruising. 
I will still endeavor to maintain this blog of any other travels I do.  Thanks for reading!

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.

Maiden Voyage

OK so this plan has been in the works for a couple of weeks now, and will come to life this evening.  After work tonight I'm going to be meeting up with my brother, Spencer, and my friends, Adam and Gavin.  We're planning to head out at 9:00 PM and sailing over to Michigan.  The closest city I could find was Pentwater, MI which my friend, Bailey, has told me is very nice.  The wind is supposed to be super light tonight, but building into the teens tomorrow.  I'm looking forward to that so I can build enough speed to get home in time for work.  I figure it'll take around 16 hours to get across, then we can sleep or explore for a bit and then turn around and head home.  Both ways we're going to be doing some night sailing.  I'm looking forward to getting out away from all the light pollution, and doing more than a day of straight sailing.  And seeing the sunrise on my boat with nothing on the horizon.  Hopefully we have enough wind to get out of the harbor. 
On another note my $200 compass arrived without any way of calibrating it, so it is constantly 30 degrees off.  I don't see any point in using it if it's going to get me lost.  I guess I'll be relying on the GPS for the 63 mile voyage.  I'm sure there will be 3 nervous mothers tonight, but I'm optimistic that it'll all be ok.  I also got 3 of the 4 swageless terminals for my riggin, so now my turnbuckles are finally rigged right.  As this is my first time using these terminals.  I hope I did it right and that it won't matter if I was a millimeter too long or too short on the shrouds.

I must say it felt a bit odd to take the bolt cutters to my brand new rigging, but it looks a lot better now and should be stronger than the swaged eyes I did have put on there.  I just wish all 4 had shown up at the same time so I could be done with it.  Stupid shipping companies.
Wish me luck!

Perfect

Last night after work I went over to check if anything had come in the mail for me.  Recently I have gotten a spare anchor, a compass, a GPS (Garmin eTrex Venture HC), and now a hammock and a good book called My Old Man and The Sea.  I look forward to stringing up the hammock and just reading if I'm ever anchored off-shore with nothing better to do.  I headed to the boat and called/texted a few friends to see if anyone wanted to go out sailing.  It was beautiful weather.  The breeze was about 10 knots, and it wasn't going to get dark till around 9:00.  I waited to hear back but then decided just to go out on my own.  I prepared this time by getting my boat hook up on deck so I could push off if need be.  Luckily the wind was working for me and I shoved off without the slightest problem.  Getting out of the harbor was a bit tricky though.  I had to tack back and forth quite a bit with just the main, and the direction of the wind made it feel like I was just drifting sideways.  I slowly made my way towards the mouth of the harbor.  I thought of tying off to a nearby dock just to put the jib up and make another go at it.  But one more tack and I got out.  There was a strange current that started to push the bow of my boat towards the breakwater, but in the end it went smoothly.  I headed out on a close reach under main alone and fired up the GPS.  It quickly registered that I was doing 2.5 MPH.  With the wind speed it didn't feel like I was even going that fast. 
I was keenly aware that I was alone out there as I began to set the jib.  A few waves rolled underneath me and made for a bit of a challenge to maintain my footing whilst clipping everything on.  After I popped the jib up I was soon doing 4.5 MPH.  The best I did was 7 MPH which I though was higher than my theoretical hull speed, so maybe I was doing my calculations wrong.  It should be the Square root of the waterline length time 1.32.  Or maybe I had to multiply the waterline length by 1.32 and then do the square root.  Not sure, either way I was glad to have the GPS along. 
The heat wave that has blasted the Midwest over the last few days led to a thick haze over the water.  About a mile out I lost all sight of land.  It was nice to be away from everyone and everything, but often I would hear the drone of a fishing boat's engine.  It was eerie to hear the noise but not see the vessel.  I only hoped that no one would plow into me going 20 or 30 knots.  I took up the habit of whistling really loudly every minute or two as a sound signal to other boats.
I struggled to keep in the wind, and for some reason I didn't feel like I was trimmed just right.  I lashed the tiller in a position that would at least keep us on the same compass course.  The boat would very slowly come a degree or two up into the wind, then it would fall off.  The pressure of the sails kept it rounding one way, and the tiller countered it.  I found that my little boat could almost sail herself better than I could.  We maintained a straight course for about half an hour with no input from me.  This allowed me to go below and fetch some Twizzlers, crank up some Linkin Park on the stereo, and wander around on deck.  I was wearing my life jacket right from the beginning on this trip.  Although it was nice to not have to steer, I knew that if I fell off and missed the dinghy trailing behind I would be left miles out in the lake and Aequitas could end up in Michigan all be herself.  I tried lying down in a quarter-berth just to see what it felt like while underway; I could have drifted off to sleep so easily.  It was quite a comfortable motion, not slapping and pounding over the waves.  The solitude was liberating.
I made it about 3 miles out before turning around and heading back towards the setting sun.  It was so foggy that I could only see the water in a radius around my boat, but there was nothing solid I could use to get my bearings.  If it wasn't for the GPS I would have been lost out there with nothing to guide me back in other than the angle of the wind and waves.  I averaged 3.5 MPH on the way out, and 5 MPH on the way back on a broad reach.  The temperature dropped as the sun sank behind the fog bank and was completely obscured from view.  It was very dark by the time I caught my first sight of land.  There is a bright LED clock on top of a bank on 8th street which showed up long before the lighthouse did.  A rather large group of lights apeared off my starboard quarter and followed me slowly in.  It looked and sounded like a barge but later turned out to be a large fishing boat.  Again I whistled at 1 minute intervals to make my location known. 

I had to steer by GPS for a bit to avoid the pier, and after I was past that point the fog lifted and I sailed straight back to my slip.  The wind maintained direction allowing me to go downwind to the dock.  I pulled in just perfectly, stepped onto the dock and tied off.  I had already come to a smooth stop and I didn't need to rush around for anything.  A nice man stood on the dock to assist, but soon realized there was nothing to do. 
After putting the dinghy to bed and taking the jib down I accepted help flaking it on the dock.  Folding bigger sails by yourself is no easy task.  We stood there chatting for a bit.  It is by now common knowledge that I have no engine in my boat.  "So do you have an engine in there?"   "Nope."  "Man you know how to sail if you can get in and out of this harbor without one!"  We talked for a bit about how kids aren't learning to truly sail anymore, everyone has gotten so used to being able to flip on an engine and head home.  He spoke about how sturdy my boat looked, and how impressed he was with how far it's come....And he hasn't even seen the "before" pictures.  I was quite proud of myself.  It was just the confidence boost I needed.  Now I know that I can in fact solo-sail some, and I look forward to the first week in August when we sail to Michigan.

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.

Sailing solo

I had the miracle of having two days off in a row due to the holiday.  I did go in to work in the morning however to fulfill an appointment with a customer, then as soon as I was done I headed down to the lake.  The plan was to hang out on the beach with some friends, but when that didn't work out I decided not to waste the perfect weather.  The wind was coming slightly south of west at about 7-12 kts.  I love being able to tell what the conditions are going to be like just based on the direction of the wind.  North winds will bring down cold air from Canada and are usually pretty steady.  South winds will bring warm moist air up from the Gulf of Mexico, and they change speed a lot throughout the day.  East winds kick up lots of waves on this side of the lake, but they don't happen too often.  West winds are fun; they flatten out the lake, but are very gusty and unpredictable.  The direction the wind is coming from can change up to 30 degrees in a matter of seconds.  One minute it'll be calm, and the next almost too blustery to be enjoyable.  It was the perfect day to test the integrity of my rig.

I called up Spencer to see if he could crew for me.  He was out of town.  Alright, I guess it was time to see if I'm as much of a hotshot sailor as I think I am.  I untied one of the bow mooring lines, tied the dinghy to the stern, and raised the main.  I made sure to place my VHF radio, camera, cell phone, and winch handle all where I could easily access them without leaving the cockpit.  The wind wasn't cooperating with me and it kept blowing Aequitas against the dock, once she even tried going forward into the main dock.  To say I had some trepidation about this venture would be an understatement.  Luckily I was able to hold her back with one line until the wind died down a little bit.  My neighbors had left shortly before I made ready.  They were headed off to Manitowoc.  I could still hear them motoring out of the harbor as I made my second attempt at shoving my boat out of her slip.  I gained speed as I walked her back, and gave one last shove on the bow pulpit before jumping on myself and running back to the tiller.  I sheeted in the main and hoped that I would gain enough speed to steer out of the way of my fellow boaters.  Once again she meandered dangerously close to a MacGregor 26 a few slips over.  I put the tiller over and ran ahead to kick my bow away from the dock and immediately ran back to my post at the helm.  We soon gained speed over the rudder thus giving me steerage way and I was able to cruise (albeit slowly) out of the harbor without incident.  So far so good.  I sailed out with the wind mostly behind me while others were still motoring and spinning in place to set the sails into the wind.  One thing I did notice is that sailing with just the main makes it much harder to come about; she'll point up into the wind and then stall.  I realized that I need both sails to move her about properly.  Even in the inner harbor when a light gust of wind would come along the Bristol heeled over quite easily.  I was worried that the height of the sail on the mast might be too much for my shallow draft boat.  I had read that Bristol 24's are initially tender (tippy) but stiffen up as the 3,000 pounds of lead in the keel can take effect countering the force of the wind.  Seeing as this was my first time single handing a keel boat, and only the second time ever sailing my boat, and the jury rig was still in place from the day before, I was hesitant to raise both sails.
Just as I was about to pass the lighthouse and leave the outer harbor I got stalled again by the wind.  I wasn't moving forward or backward.  It was very frustrating as fishing boats passed me; I must have looked like I didn't know what I was doing.  A few minutes passed and finally the wind shifted just enough for me to gain some control again and leave the harbor. 
I love leaving the harbor and the muddy brown water that flows down from the Sheboygan river out into the clean deep blue lake beyond.  There was a gorgeous boat that had just began to set their sails that I caught up with.  I figured I was a safe enough distance from either pier that I could raise the jib and head out on my own.  After making sure that the boat was in irons (stalled), I headed below and got the jib out of its sail bag and proceeded to the foredeck.  The leading edge of the jib has multiple metal hasps which clip over the fore stay, and after those are all on I had to clip the tack (front bottom corner) to the deck, and attach the head of the sail to the jib halyard (line that raises the sail).  After the sail was attached I headed back to the cabin to retrieve the jib sheets (lines used to control the jib depending on which side of the boa the wind is on).  I tied each jib sheet to the clew (rear bottom corner) and ran them through the appropriate blocks and around the winches.  {Mind you I am still doing all of this out on my own in the lake with the boat bobbing up and down with the waves.}  Returning to the base of the mast I cranked on the old stiff jib halyard and pulled it all in until the leading edge of the jib was taught, then I cleated it in and headed back to the tiller.  I trimmed in both the main and the jib and headed out deeper into the lake.
It was apparent right away how much more pressure was on the boat by more than doubling the sail area.  Aequitas moved along quite well, and just as I had read, heeled over to about 27 degrees and then stayed stable.  I kept a wary eye on the turnbuckles for a bit just waiting for one to snap and go flying overboard.  I felt an acute sense of accomplishment for getting out there not only without the help of any other person, but without an engine either.  I also felt very vulnerable being all alone, a mile off shore in frigid waters.  It was then that I decided it would be a good idea to put on my life jacket.  The adrenaline dried my mouth out considerably, and it was then that I realized the one item I had not put at arms reach was a bottle of water; it would just have to wait.  The wind was strong, but the boat handled like a dream.  I took some videos, but sadly no pictures to put on here.  The few items I hadn't stowed properly flew across the cabin down below.  My towel was dangling diagonally across the doorway because I was heeled over so far. The little dinghy was planing along behind me and skipping across the few waves I came against.  I tacked a few times, and cruised further offshore than I had gone the previous day with a full crew of friends.
The sky began to darken and I decided it would be a good time to head in.  I turned towards the mouth of the harbor and the wind died.  Maybe it shifted, or I just couldn't see it, but the boat was not moving.  I got to about the same spot near the lighthouse and could go no further.  I waited, nothing.  I went below to polish off the remaining fizzy water my mom left behind.  I scanned the water for any sign of wind; still nothing.  Some acquaintances from the yacht club passed me in their racing sloop as the motored in.  "Get a motor in that thing!" one shouted playfully.  "Cheaters" I thought to myself, "People got by for hundreds of years without an Evinrude outboard, I think I'll be just fine."  I waited another 5 minutes.  Perhaps I should use the dinghy to tow Aequitas in.  No, not while I'm out here on my own.  I decided to just use one of the oars to propel me that little bit into the fresh air inside the harbor. 
I pulled the dinghy in alongside and grabbed an oar.  There wasn't really a good place to put it where I could get leverage and where the blade would still reach the water.  I gave it my best and after about three strokes an almighty gust of wind came out of nowhere and snapped the sails out of my reach.  I pulled in hard on both the main and the jib sheets which had not been cleated in.  The tail end of the jib thrashed about wildly as I tried to rein it in.  I threw the oar down in the cabin, steered with my knees, and did my best to cleat the main sheet and wrap the jib sheet around a winch.  It took all my might, but soon it was all under control and we were moving towards home at a fine pace.  I think my boat has a little bit of a personality about her.  She cut her anchor rode yesterday because after she was not made to be left at anchor, she was made to sail.  And then I dare insult her by attempting to use a dinghy paddle to move her.  The indignation of it all!  I don't know how she did it, but somehow she summoned the wind and made sure I never forgot she was meant to be SAILED!

As I got nearer to the mouth of the inner harbor I went up to the bow and dropped the jib.  It was somewhat of a chore to fold the sail on the deck in a way that would prevent it from blowing off or being dragged through the water.  After that I tacked slowly towards my slip.  As the wind became suddenly light and was going directly against me I had to tack several times as I crept at an agonizingly slow pace.  Thunder crackled in the background as storm clouds passed overhead, a man was slowly raised up his mast to reset a delicate instrument, and I tacked back ad forth, back and forth, inching towards my destination.
In order to go against the wind in a sail boat you have to zig-zag.  The idea is that there will be wind enough off the side to move you forward, and that your keel sticking down in the water will stop you from just sliding sideways.  Mine isn't the most nimble boat out there, but we made it in just fine.  Both ways, all unassisted by either man or motor.  I was very happy with myself and my Bristol 24.

Homeless

Yesterday was my birthday!  It was pretty uneventful to begin with.  I worked all day (literally).  The only thing to break up the monotony was going out to Culver's with a friend for lunch.  If you've never been to Culver's I highly recommend it.  A better brand of beef truly does make a butter-burger better.  I worked from 8:30 in the morning until 9:30 at night.  We close at 8:00, but I had some last minute customers that bought a car.  Oh well, money is good right?  After I updated my Facebook account and replied to most of the birthday wishes I started to head home.  On the way I suddenly grew hungry.  The problem with Sheboygan is that there's nowhere to go at 11:00 at night for food except Perkins.  I didn't want to go to the restaurant alone and feel lame so I decided to just turn in for the night.  As I was almost to the marina I got a text from my friend Jessica, she was with another friend.....at Perkins.  So in the end I did get some more birthday fun, and I got to eat inordinate amounts of food.  That's a good day in my book.
As I got home to Aequitas I noticed that there was no longer any water dripping into the bilge; small victories.  Thursday I will be moving the rest of my belongings out of my apartment so I can fully move onto the boat.  I wonder if I'll get in trouble for being technically homeless.  Does living on a boat count as homelessness?  What if I have my Mom's house as my mailing address.  Soon the only bills I will have are my cell phone and the insurance for the car I sold to my sister and brother in-law.  Hopefully this means that I will be able to save quickly for my trip to California this summer, and to Europe next summer.
Just as a backup plan I began searching for flight prices to head to all the places I want to visit next summer.  Oddly enough if I did it as a multi-stop flight and spent about a week in each country it would only be just over $1,000 for the whole trip.  That's stopping in Ireland, England, Spain, and Florida.  For that price I may as well do that this year.  Obviously that doesn't cover food and lodging.  The main thing I want to experience though is cruising on my own boat and pulling into a strange port and seeing everything from that perspective.  Then I can explore every cove and inlet along the way, stop at any beach that intrigues me, and carry my living place with me like a snail's shell. 

A brief ray of sunshine

It's my day off.  And it was tolerable weather.  Sound unlikely for me......yeah.  OK although the afore mentioned statements are true, it wasn't exactly perfect.  Despite being my day off I had to go in to work (twice) in order to keep appointments with clients.  (If in the future after I am an amazingly successful cruising sailor and I have to get a job on land I hope that they will read this and see my awesome work ethic).  I only stayed at work a total of 3 1/2 hours, but I sold 2 cars, so it's ok.  As for the weather, it's been kinda depressing.  A couple Sundays ago it was up in the 70's, and then this last weekend we got 3 inches of snow!  It just came out of nowhere, and covered everything in slush.  I had hoped that I would be able to start varnishing, but with all the changing weather and moisture in the air I've decided to hold off for a bit.

I completed a few tasks on the boat though.  I taped off and repainted the waterline, I put on the boat registration stickers, and finished sanding the woodwork. I took pictures of all this today, but forgot to bring it over here so I could upload them.  I'll do that tomorrow.

I checked out the slot that had been cut to drain any excess water in the keel, it was pretty much dry.  I decided it'd be a good idea to make sure there was no water next to the ballast on the other side of the keel. So although when you think of boat maintenance you usually think of patching holes, not drilling new ones, that's exactly what I had to do.
I drilled into the side of the keel and a bit of gritty black goop came out followed by some water.  I drilled 8 other holes along the keel to drain any moisture I could.  I'm still a bit worried about all this water that has been in there for who knows how long, but I'm pretty confident in the structural integrity of the Bristol.

I found out that the rig I have (from a Columbia 26) has a roller reefing boom, so I don't need to add reefing point to the sail if I need to make the sail smaller in a storm.  It's gonna be nice to just wrap it around the boom and not have to worry about folding it.  I've heard that the roller reefing systems weren't that good, and that's why no one does it anymore.....I guess we'll see.

After sunset I went to Home Depot to get some Frog Tape (way better than the blue painter's tape most people get), some more sanding blocks, some gloves so I don't ruin my skin with the anti-fouling paint, and some tack cloth so I can varnish properly.  Then I bought some rubbing compound and wax to make the boat's hull all slippery and shiny.

It's gratifying to see things coming together over the last couple of weeks.  I've had a list of things to buy, and things to do which wasn't changing at all over the winter months.  I had to get insurance, pay for the slip, get anti-fouling paint ($126/gallon).  Now all I have to do is buy some sails.

An old guy came up to me today and told me about some sailing stuff he was selling.  He had a new sail that didn't fit his boat he was gonna sell for $400, and a roller furling unit for the Jib.  It might not fit, but I'll see how cheap I can buy it off him.

I've recently joined a www.cruisersforum.com which has been great!  The combined knowledge of hundreds of sailors from all over the world helping me trouble shoot my way has been invaluable.  It's also nice to see that I'm not the only one who's starting small and trying to make due with as little as possible.  I know I seem naive to many, but I feel like I could get to Europe just on will power at this point.

It's been a while.

OK so you may have been wondering what has happened to me.  Sadly with the Wisconsin winter weather rolling  there hasn't been too much nautical going on in my life.  It has finally snowed, and we're due for another blizzard tonight.  I love the snow!  I got a tarp put up over the cockpit on my boat just in time so it doesn't fill up with snow and ice over the winter.  I helped cover up one of the Sea Scout boats, a Merit 25, in the middle of the first snow storm.  It just makes me wonder what it would be like to be sailing on the southern ocean.  I'm sure it wouldn't be the tropical dream that everyone thinks of when they picture sailing off somewhere, but for me any aspect of sailing is amazing. 
On a more financial note, my paychecks won't be going towards my vessel for a little while since I have to get my wisdom teeth ripped out.  They've been bugging me for quite some time, so I finally decided to get it done.  The good part is that my jaw will stop swelling up, and my teeth won't hurt; the bad is that it costs $2300!  I'm not looking forward to that, but I'm sure it'll all work out.
In more news in relation to my planned voyage to Europe.  I have officially decided to postpone it a year.  On the one hand I'm a bit worried that if I put it off life will get in the way and it may never happen; but it's just too much stress I've piled on myself telling everyone that I'm going on a jaunt across the Atlantic next summer in a boat I've never sailed.  I need not only more time to prepare the boat, and practice my skills on it, but I need to save up money to get the proper gear to make it a safe trip.  And although I'm sure I'll be demonstrating thrifty living for a while, I would like to have a little bit of spending money while I'm over there.  I can think of a couple individuals who would not be pleased if I were to come back from Europe again without any souvenirs for them.
So with this new plan I am still confident that it'll happen, but this way I know I'll be more prepared and I'll be able to spend the summer with my friends testing which configurations work well for me on the boat, and which ones don't.  One example of this is the presence of lifelines.  I've already spent time and money fixing the stanchions, but at the end of the day I'm kind of liking the extra deck space in not having the stanchions there.  I've heard just as many stories saying lifelines are a necessity as there are that say they are dangerous.  Pros: they can catch you if you lose your footing, slip, or are about to roll overboard for any other reason.  They are convenient places to tie things.  Cons:  Anything you tie to them adds windage and drag up top, they cannot be relied upon to keep you in the boat, if you fall on them you could damage the hull if they try to rip out, they take up valuable space on the side and fore decks, the head sail can chafe up against them, they get in the way when trying to get on a dock of another vessel.  OK I'm beginning to thin that I sound biased.  They do add a sense of security, but it may be a false sense if you don't hold onto the boat because you trust the lifelines to catch you.  The only benefit I can see now is if I had small children on board.  In that case I would string netting between to stanchions to catch kids.  I'm kinda wishing I hadn't put so much adhesive on the stanchion bases, I might not be able to get them off now. 
Like I said, I'll try all sorts of different configurations with people on board, and test to find out what work best. 
Anyone that would like to learn more about my boat, or my planned trips feel free to comment below.  As well anyone that wants to donate to my boat fund, or my Wisdom Teeth fund can let me know as well.

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!