The day after seeing Dark Knight Rises at the midnight release I was feeling uber tired at work. After all I didn't get to sleep till 4:00 am. Late in the evening when I was leaving work and planning on sleeping I got a text informing me about $5 rock climbing night starting at 10:00. Of course I was down for that so we all drove down to Momentum Rock Climbing Gym attached to REI in Sandy, UT and were met by a long line out the door. I think it's the biggest indoor gym in Utah, and it seemed that $5 night was a popular tradition among many people. I could glance in the door and see countless towering walls waiting to be scrambled all over.
After a long wait in line and signing a few waiver forms I was given a rather odorous pair of climbing shoes and admitted to the gym. It was even bigger on the inside than I thought, with places for bouldering, top roping, and lead climbing, there was little to be desired. I was using my thin, unpadded harness which still did the job OK; it just made me miss my own rope, harness, and shoes.
The climbing extravaganza went until 2am after which my hands could barely grip any holds. The rocks were getting sweaty, and I was not only sleepy, but physically tired. I think I'll have to go back and attend this monthly event often.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Canoes in Summer
A lot has happened since my last post. I have finished my first semester at LDS Business College. I have gone camping and hiking numerous times. I tried out with a wilderness therapy company for a week in escalante (which I'll have to post about), and I broke my Subaru, fixed it, broke it again, sold it, and bought a Montero. I can't wait to get my new SUV in tip top shape so i can do some off roading. This will be much more suited to the task with lots of skid plates, locking rear and center differentials, and true 4 wheel drive. I live that it has a massive sun roof, and 7 leather seats. More room for more friends.
On the trip that decided the fate of my Subaru I planned a canoe camping trip. I found a place that rents a trailer with 4 canoes on it for $50, but upon further investigation found it to be too far away. I still got the troops together and made arrangements to go camping with a couple canoes. I waited too long to reserve them, so the only place that had canoes was REI. (If you ever need canoes, don't hesitate to call them, they're really easy to work with). We loaded up all the gear, and drove down early in the morning. I finally had a chance to test out my new Yakima Roof Rack. We put one heavy canoe on my friend's Sentra, an I put the other on my roof rack next to the Diamond Back mountain bike that my younger brother graciously sent to me. The drive up to Pineview Reservoir was decently scenic. My car started to sputter over the mountains and I didn't know why.
Finally after getting turned around a bit we pulled in and set up camp. We had two tents, plenty of other random gear, and I put my hammock up in a tree. There was a lovely sandy beach to launch the canoes from. The wind was a bit of a hassle to paddle against, but the water was the perfect temperature, and the lake was actually a decent size, not some mere mill pond. I practiced portaging the canoes all on my own. I found out that the fiberglass canoes are way heavier than aluminum ones, and the wind has a way of twisting you exactly the way you don't want to go when you have a 16 foot boat over your head.
Some other friends showed up a little later, and we cooked a crazy amount of hot dogs over the fire. I felt proud of myself for starting the fire with nothing more than my flint sparker, some dry tinder, and a napkin....there may have been some WD40 in there somewhere, but no one needs to know. We went down to have another canoeing excursion. the wind died down a little bit, but in general the lake would have been a great place for sailing a small dinghy. I can't wait to get something like that. We paddled across to find a rope swing. I had a feeling that a certain area would have to have one. It just looked rope swingy. Lo and behold the rope swing was there, but it was destroyed and set for a much higher tide than we were then experiencing. We wandered around for a bit then headed back.
On the beach we played a bit of Frisbee, tag, and then just sat and talked. It was good to be in the college friend campout on the beach. It felt even better to have been the one that planned it. We all turned in for the night and I noticed that a hammock is a great invention for sleeping in. Although it was 96 degrees during the day, it got quite chilly during the night time. I was glad to have brought my sleeping bag, but I did notice that the hammock seemed to drain all the blood away from my feet making them very cold throughout the night. We all survived and are planning on going again sometime soon. I'll be sure to post in a better fashion in the future. It's good to be back.
On the trip that decided the fate of my Subaru I planned a canoe camping trip. I found a place that rents a trailer with 4 canoes on it for $50, but upon further investigation found it to be too far away. I still got the troops together and made arrangements to go camping with a couple canoes. I waited too long to reserve them, so the only place that had canoes was REI. (If you ever need canoes, don't hesitate to call them, they're really easy to work with). We loaded up all the gear, and drove down early in the morning. I finally had a chance to test out my new Yakima Roof Rack. We put one heavy canoe on my friend's Sentra, an I put the other on my roof rack next to the Diamond Back mountain bike that my younger brother graciously sent to me. The drive up to Pineview Reservoir was decently scenic. My car started to sputter over the mountains and I didn't know why.
Finally after getting turned around a bit we pulled in and set up camp. We had two tents, plenty of other random gear, and I put my hammock up in a tree. There was a lovely sandy beach to launch the canoes from. The wind was a bit of a hassle to paddle against, but the water was the perfect temperature, and the lake was actually a decent size, not some mere mill pond. I practiced portaging the canoes all on my own. I found out that the fiberglass canoes are way heavier than aluminum ones, and the wind has a way of twisting you exactly the way you don't want to go when you have a 16 foot boat over your head.
Some other friends showed up a little later, and we cooked a crazy amount of hot dogs over the fire. I felt proud of myself for starting the fire with nothing more than my flint sparker, some dry tinder, and a napkin....there may have been some WD40 in there somewhere, but no one needs to know. We went down to have another canoeing excursion. the wind died down a little bit, but in general the lake would have been a great place for sailing a small dinghy. I can't wait to get something like that. We paddled across to find a rope swing. I had a feeling that a certain area would have to have one. It just looked rope swingy. Lo and behold the rope swing was there, but it was destroyed and set for a much higher tide than we were then experiencing. We wandered around for a bit then headed back.
On the beach we played a bit of Frisbee, tag, and then just sat and talked. It was good to be in the college friend campout on the beach. It felt even better to have been the one that planned it. We all turned in for the night and I noticed that a hammock is a great invention for sleeping in. Although it was 96 degrees during the day, it got quite chilly during the night time. I was glad to have brought my sleeping bag, but I did notice that the hammock seemed to drain all the blood away from my feet making them very cold throughout the night. We all survived and are planning on going again sometime soon. I'll be sure to post in a better fashion in the future. It's good to be back.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Climbing
I always tend to have expensive hobbies. I bought myself all the gear I need for rock climbing. I've loved rock climbing for a long time, but I was too cheap to buy any of the equipment, so I was limited to bouldering or going to rock climbing gyms. Gyms can get expensive, but really help to perfect your technique, and build the strength you need to overcome certain obstacles.
At REI I bought a harness, belay device, chalk bag and caribiner for $100. Then I picked up a 10.2mm Dry-Rope (60 meters long) for about $140 That's roughly $120 more than I paid for the ghetto cheap rope from the hardware store, but I trust it a lot more. All in all the gear adds about ten pounds to my pack. I tested out the gear for the first time in Mill Creek Canyon. I've hiked this area twice now, and on my second hike I noticed that there were some anchor points placed at the top of a 70 foot cliff. It was scary to climb out there and balance myself precariously above a long fall to a painful death. I ran the rope through the anchor points and clipped into my harness. I really hoped that I had done everything right, and that the person who placed these anchors knew what he was doing.
As I stood there with one hand on the rock, and one hand on the rope, I knew that once I let go I would have to trust my life to this contraption around my waist. Every bit of my instinct was telling me not to do it, but I had to conquer my fear of heights sooner or later. I let go and gradually let the rope slip through my fingers. The friction created by the rope as it snaked through the belay device made it quite easy for me to control my descent; but I was wearing leather gloves just in case... rope burn is no joke. About halfway down I was suspended below an overhang and thus could not keep my feet planted on the wall. It was at this precise moment of dangling that the chains I was anchored to decided to shift ever so slightly. The anchors were still as solid as the rock the were drilled into, but my weight shifted the chain about an inch. That small movement, and the resulting pebbles that fell down caused me to have a small mid-air panic attack. I rappelled much more quickly at that point and was very grateful the moment I touched down safely. So far so good, now I had to do it again with a camera!
Life is no fun unless you can share it with others; and if there's no one with you, you at least have to take some pictures to preserve the memory. The second rappel wasn't as scary, but it is still nerve racking letting go to the one solid hold you have and trusting that all the man-made stuff will keep its end of the deal.
A couple weeks later I did end up getting a membership at the local bouldering gym The Front. It set me back about $80 for a month. It would have been cheaper if I was staying in the area for longer, but I figure I can climb out in the real world once it warms up a bit. I was told by the staff at the gym that I should check out IME (Intenational Mountain Expeditions) [I think that's what it stands for] for the non-corporate version of climbing gear. It's a small hole in the wall shop nestled in next to REI, and they had good advice for me, and a fair selection of shoes and other climbing equipment. I ended up purchasing a $35 harness there for anyone that would want to be my belay buddy, and I found a beat up 65 liter pack for $10 that I can use to haul my rope and gear up the mountain. I did end up going back to REI for my shoes. They were very helpful, and I was able to pick out a pair for $80. I tried on a few different ones, but in the end the cheapest ones felt the best on my foot. Usually you go down a size or more from your regular shoes to climbing shoes. This forces your toes to curl up, and transmits more of your body weight through your foot as one whole unit rather than a bunch of gangly fragile toes.
After assembling all of my gear I went with my girlfriend, Brooke, back up to Mill Creek Canyon to go climbing. She has a fear of heights as well, but for some reason trusted me that I knew what I was doing. All I can say is that I'm grateful for YouTube videos reminding me of the stuff I learned from the rock climbing gym in Arizona, and teaching me a few new things. Again I hiked up, set the rope and rappelled down. Then I showed Brooke how to get clipped into the belay device, and I tied myself to the rope. I did a few short runs just so she could practice stopping a fall, and letting me back down to the ground safely. Then I did a full run to the top. It was a bit scary tackling the overhangs. I was immensely grateful for the rope (although I didn't fall), and I was amazed at what a difference the shoes made in my climbing. I had only used climbing shoes in a gym, and I had only climbed outdoors with normal sneakers or boots. Using the climbing shoes outdoors turned me into a whole different climber.
Brooke took a turn heading up the wall. She got a little scared at parts, but handled it very well. I was impressed with her for being a first timer. I'm glad she trusted me, and we had a fun safe time out there. Now I just need to get some more climbing buddies so we can have people to take pictures, some to belay, some to climb. I'm also really looking forward to this summer when I can go canyoneering in Zion.
At REI I bought a harness, belay device, chalk bag and caribiner for $100. Then I picked up a 10.2mm Dry-Rope (60 meters long) for about $140 That's roughly $120 more than I paid for the ghetto cheap rope from the hardware store, but I trust it a lot more. All in all the gear adds about ten pounds to my pack. I tested out the gear for the first time in Mill Creek Canyon. I've hiked this area twice now, and on my second hike I noticed that there were some anchor points placed at the top of a 70 foot cliff. It was scary to climb out there and balance myself precariously above a long fall to a painful death. I ran the rope through the anchor points and clipped into my harness. I really hoped that I had done everything right, and that the person who placed these anchors knew what he was doing.
As I stood there with one hand on the rock, and one hand on the rope, I knew that once I let go I would have to trust my life to this contraption around my waist. Every bit of my instinct was telling me not to do it, but I had to conquer my fear of heights sooner or later. I let go and gradually let the rope slip through my fingers. The friction created by the rope as it snaked through the belay device made it quite easy for me to control my descent; but I was wearing leather gloves just in case... rope burn is no joke. About halfway down I was suspended below an overhang and thus could not keep my feet planted on the wall. It was at this precise moment of dangling that the chains I was anchored to decided to shift ever so slightly. The anchors were still as solid as the rock the were drilled into, but my weight shifted the chain about an inch. That small movement, and the resulting pebbles that fell down caused me to have a small mid-air panic attack. I rappelled much more quickly at that point and was very grateful the moment I touched down safely. So far so good, now I had to do it again with a camera!
Life is no fun unless you can share it with others; and if there's no one with you, you at least have to take some pictures to preserve the memory. The second rappel wasn't as scary, but it is still nerve racking letting go to the one solid hold you have and trusting that all the man-made stuff will keep its end of the deal.
A couple weeks later I did end up getting a membership at the local bouldering gym The Front. It set me back about $80 for a month. It would have been cheaper if I was staying in the area for longer, but I figure I can climb out in the real world once it warms up a bit. I was told by the staff at the gym that I should check out IME (Intenational Mountain Expeditions) [I think that's what it stands for] for the non-corporate version of climbing gear. It's a small hole in the wall shop nestled in next to REI, and they had good advice for me, and a fair selection of shoes and other climbing equipment. I ended up purchasing a $35 harness there for anyone that would want to be my belay buddy, and I found a beat up 65 liter pack for $10 that I can use to haul my rope and gear up the mountain. I did end up going back to REI for my shoes. They were very helpful, and I was able to pick out a pair for $80. I tried on a few different ones, but in the end the cheapest ones felt the best on my foot. Usually you go down a size or more from your regular shoes to climbing shoes. This forces your toes to curl up, and transmits more of your body weight through your foot as one whole unit rather than a bunch of gangly fragile toes.
After assembling all of my gear I went with my girlfriend, Brooke, back up to Mill Creek Canyon to go climbing. She has a fear of heights as well, but for some reason trusted me that I knew what I was doing. All I can say is that I'm grateful for YouTube videos reminding me of the stuff I learned from the rock climbing gym in Arizona, and teaching me a few new things. Again I hiked up, set the rope and rappelled down. Then I showed Brooke how to get clipped into the belay device, and I tied myself to the rope. I did a few short runs just so she could practice stopping a fall, and letting me back down to the ground safely. Then I did a full run to the top. It was a bit scary tackling the overhangs. I was immensely grateful for the rope (although I didn't fall), and I was amazed at what a difference the shoes made in my climbing. I had only used climbing shoes in a gym, and I had only climbed outdoors with normal sneakers or boots. Using the climbing shoes outdoors turned me into a whole different climber.
Brooke took a turn heading up the wall. She got a little scared at parts, but handled it very well. I was impressed with her for being a first timer. I'm glad she trusted me, and we had a fun safe time out there. Now I just need to get some more climbing buddies so we can have people to take pictures, some to belay, some to climb. I'm also really looking forward to this summer when I can go canyoneering in Zion.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Mt. Olympus
Friday morning I went to my economics class like I do every day, and right as I was getting into the last five minutes of class I goot a sudden jolt of excitement, or adrenaline because I knew I was going to do something fun that day.
I quickly ate some food, and rushed home. I packed up my old backpack that had been with me when I camped on an island in Arizona with my family. We had to swim to the island because it was too rocky for boats to get near....also we didn't have a boat. I had taken that backpack to England and Wales on my mission. Often I was annoyed that it was too big and bulky, but it served me well every time I had to bring home groceries on bike or foot. I have had many wonderful experiences with that backpack, and it was definitely on its last legs. After its orange and grey cloth was filled with some climbing rope, 4 bottles of water, some snow pants, and some trail mix, I plunked it down in the back of my Subaru, and headed off towards Mount Olympus.
Mount Olympus is one of the taller peaks in the nearby area. The summit is at 9,600 feet (2,000 feet higher than I've climbed before) and to get to it you have to traverse rough terrain, steep inclines, and deep snow over about a 3.5 miles trail (2 miles more than I've done on a climb since I moved to Utah). It loomed out of the distance like a giant, as I got closer to the trail head parking lot I couldn't even see the peak anymore because it was so far away. There was graffiti on the concrete slabs in the parking lot, and every parking space had piles of broken safety glass in it. Clearly car break-ins were not a rare occurance here. Luckily I had nothing of worth in my car except maybe my CDs, but who listens to CDs anymore anyway. I booted up my Garmin GPS, cinched up the straps on my aged backpack, took my ski poles in hand, and started off on the trek.
I was only a hundred yards up the trail when I realized that this was no baby trail for the weak hearted, it was steep, rocky, and difficult... Just the way I like it. Some kids were scrambling over the lowest boulder on the side of the trail; this too had gratuitous amounts of graffiti on it. There were some anchor points for rock climbing, and if I had had more time (and a belaying buddy) I would have been tempted to climb it, but I had to push on. It was already noon, and I anticipated a 7 hour hike. I really wanted to get back before night fall.
I have been watching a bit too much Man vs. Wild on YouTube, so one plan that crossed through my mind was to scale the mountain, then create a snow shelter on one of the protected faces of the mountain, sleep through the night in the wild, and then go exploring some more the following day. One problem with this was that I didn't have any gear with me. I suppose the whole point of survival expeditions is making it through with whatever you have with you at the time, but I was in no quest to get in over my head unnecessarily. I was confident that I would have been fine, and that I had sufficient skill to tackle the wilderness alone, but it would still have been nice to have at least a flint and steel along with me... or maybe a sleeping bag. Soon though I'll be out there for a 2 day trek; that should be an adventure.
I hiked up the trail and found a rather large boulder that looked like fun. Probably about 80 feet tall. I scaled it once taking the easy route, then did it again with my camera at the bottom to film my ascent. It was tougher than I though because I had my ruck sack offsetting my center of gravity, but I made it up in a few minutes. I think it would be fun to have a camera crew following me around like Bear Grylls, but so far I don't really do anything cool enough to justify filming. I just think it would be sweet.
The ski poles helped out a ton on the climb up. Often the shale under foot would break away, and as I got higher and higher up into the mountain the snow got deeper and deeper. Also I realized that once I'm above 6,000feet, every step feels increasingly heavier. Around 8,000 feet I kept sliding backwards as I tried to climb. I passed a foreigner who said he was the only one to make it to the summit in a while. I was getting frustrated by how easily I was losing my breath. There is much less oxygen at higher altitudes, an you lose about 3.5 degrees of temperature for every thousand feet that you climb. It was 38 degrees in the parking lot, and I had a 4,000 foot climb to the summit.
Soon I broke above the tree level, and I could see the other mountains in the range. It seems that no matter how high I climb, there is always another peak that is just slightly higher up, taunting me. The city was still close at hand, and I could see the whole valley splayed out beneath me. From my vantage point I could see the Great Salt Lake... I wonder how long it would take to swim across.
The last few hundred feet were nearly vertical. I had to be careful to place my feet in the packed snow prints left by the foreigner's crampons. The ski poles lost their value in the veertical terrain and I had to stox them along side my pack. It's much easier to do this with my hiking pack vs. my school pack. Still I'd like to get some proper gear. It depresses me to think about how much of my kit was purchased at Wal-Mart.
At the top the view was unforgettable. I could see for miles around. It slowly began to sink in just how much wilderness there really is back here. I'd love to get lost back in the mountains for a week and get away from the hustle and bustle of life.
It's a strange feeling when you get to the summit of sucha tall (to me) mountain. 9,600 feet above sea level. The last time I was up at this altitude, I was in a pressurized airplane cabin. Still it was all worth it for the view. It's hard to get up here and see all of this and not believe in God. All of creation just fills me with awe.
I found a mail box buried underneath some snow with peoples names and artifacts. One wrote a peom, one left a condom wrapper, on left an american flag, some left business cards. I wrote my name and date with the pen that was stached in the mail box, and began my descent. I suppose the view from teh top is definitely worth the effort of the climb, but for me, the challenge of the climb is in itself reason enough to take it on.
I quickly ate some food, and rushed home. I packed up my old backpack that had been with me when I camped on an island in Arizona with my family. We had to swim to the island because it was too rocky for boats to get near....also we didn't have a boat. I had taken that backpack to England and Wales on my mission. Often I was annoyed that it was too big and bulky, but it served me well every time I had to bring home groceries on bike or foot. I have had many wonderful experiences with that backpack, and it was definitely on its last legs. After its orange and grey cloth was filled with some climbing rope, 4 bottles of water, some snow pants, and some trail mix, I plunked it down in the back of my Subaru, and headed off towards Mount Olympus.
Mount Olympus is one of the taller peaks in the nearby area. The summit is at 9,600 feet (2,000 feet higher than I've climbed before) and to get to it you have to traverse rough terrain, steep inclines, and deep snow over about a 3.5 miles trail (2 miles more than I've done on a climb since I moved to Utah). It loomed out of the distance like a giant, as I got closer to the trail head parking lot I couldn't even see the peak anymore because it was so far away. There was graffiti on the concrete slabs in the parking lot, and every parking space had piles of broken safety glass in it. Clearly car break-ins were not a rare occurance here. Luckily I had nothing of worth in my car except maybe my CDs, but who listens to CDs anymore anyway. I booted up my Garmin GPS, cinched up the straps on my aged backpack, took my ski poles in hand, and started off on the trek.
I was only a hundred yards up the trail when I realized that this was no baby trail for the weak hearted, it was steep, rocky, and difficult... Just the way I like it. Some kids were scrambling over the lowest boulder on the side of the trail; this too had gratuitous amounts of graffiti on it. There were some anchor points for rock climbing, and if I had had more time (and a belaying buddy) I would have been tempted to climb it, but I had to push on. It was already noon, and I anticipated a 7 hour hike. I really wanted to get back before night fall.
I have been watching a bit too much Man vs. Wild on YouTube, so one plan that crossed through my mind was to scale the mountain, then create a snow shelter on one of the protected faces of the mountain, sleep through the night in the wild, and then go exploring some more the following day. One problem with this was that I didn't have any gear with me. I suppose the whole point of survival expeditions is making it through with whatever you have with you at the time, but I was in no quest to get in over my head unnecessarily. I was confident that I would have been fine, and that I had sufficient skill to tackle the wilderness alone, but it would still have been nice to have at least a flint and steel along with me... or maybe a sleeping bag. Soon though I'll be out there for a 2 day trek; that should be an adventure.
I hiked up the trail and found a rather large boulder that looked like fun. Probably about 80 feet tall. I scaled it once taking the easy route, then did it again with my camera at the bottom to film my ascent. It was tougher than I though because I had my ruck sack offsetting my center of gravity, but I made it up in a few minutes. I think it would be fun to have a camera crew following me around like Bear Grylls, but so far I don't really do anything cool enough to justify filming. I just think it would be sweet.
Soon I broke above the tree level, and I could see the other mountains in the range. It seems that no matter how high I climb, there is always another peak that is just slightly higher up, taunting me. The city was still close at hand, and I could see the whole valley splayed out beneath me. From my vantage point I could see the Great Salt Lake... I wonder how long it would take to swim across.
The last few hundred feet were nearly vertical. I had to be careful to place my feet in the packed snow prints left by the foreigner's crampons. The ski poles lost their value in the veertical terrain and I had to stox them along side my pack. It's much easier to do this with my hiking pack vs. my school pack. Still I'd like to get some proper gear. It depresses me to think about how much of my kit was purchased at Wal-Mart.
It's a strange feeling when you get to the summit of sucha tall (to me) mountain. 9,600 feet above sea level. The last time I was up at this altitude, I was in a pressurized airplane cabin. Still it was all worth it for the view. It's hard to get up here and see all of this and not believe in God. All of creation just fills me with awe.
I found a mail box buried underneath some snow with peoples names and artifacts. One wrote a peom, one left a condom wrapper, on left an american flag, some left business cards. I wrote my name and date with the pen that was stached in the mail box, and began my descent. I suppose the view from teh top is definitely worth the effort of the climb, but for me, the challenge of the climb is in itself reason enough to take it on.
To speed up my descent, and make it possible to get to the Subaru in time, I donned my snow pants, held my backpack in front and slid on my backside as far as I could. It was fun, but dangerous. I got up to speeds of 25 MPH on my slides, and I had to be careful to dodge the rocks hidden underneath the snow. If I got it right it would greatly speed up my progress and help me get home before sundown; get it wrong and I could end up with a broken tailbone, or worse.
At the end of the day I got back in just under a 6 hour round trip. I was dead tired, and rested most of the next day; but all I can think about is which climb I'm gonna do next.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Front
The air was a thick haze like you used to see in a bar. The guy in front of me in line bought a good sized zip-loc bag filled with pure white powder. Was this some strange druggie hangout I had just walked in to? No, the haze in the air, and the contents of the bag were one and the same, climber's chalk. I found a nearby bouldering gym online. As it turns out it's located just behind the Wal-Mart that I went to for my school supplies. I bought a day pass to "The Front" which gave me access to the weight room, the tread mills, the yoga room, and of course the bouldering wall; all for $15.00. I did have to rent shoes for an additional $5.00, but I'd say it was money well spent.
The wall was about 15 feet high and a couple hundred feet long. There were enough people there to confirm that this wasn't some shady fly-by-night operation, but it was by no means overcrowded. there were no top-ropes like I was used to at the rock climbing gyms I had been to in Arizona, but those had 45 foot walls, and I preferred this. I didn't need anyone to belay me, and there were ample amounts of padding on the floor to save me even if I completely fell flat on my back.
It only took a few ascents for me to realize that I do not have the forearm strength required for this kind of climbing. there were only a few very small sections that were not inclined to some degree, and thus I needed to have a very strong grip to keep my body on the wall. On my first climb I got near the top and tried a dynamic move (where you swing to reach a handhold and aren't necessarily holding onto anything while you're moving) and scraped my arm. I had to keep caking chalk onto it to keep it from bleeding. I tried a few of the more difficult climbs, and kept going back again and again to the wall. Each attempt (even on the easy routes) took a huge toll on my wrists and forearms. After about an hour I couldn't support my own body weight from one hand, which made climbing nearly impossible. I guess I just need to keep going back frequently to strengthen my arms and get those muscle groups to wake up and get to work.
I had a blast though. There was a nice variety of people. A couple of kids (who must have barely started high school) were fairly proficient at kicking my butt on every route I tried. I guess I'm really not that good at climbing after all, but then again it has been more than a year since I've been to a climbing gym. There was also a cute toddler who was there climbing with his dad; he even had his own tiny chalk bag clipped to his belt. I wanna have one of those when I grow up (a kid who can climb that is).
I think I stayed at it for almost two hours,then determined that I had inhaled enough chalk dust and that my hands could no longer grip enough to make this fun. I'm looking forward to having more endurance so I can keep at it, and then I might be ready for some real climbs this summer in Moab, or Zion. But for now my hands won't do the simplest tasks I tell them to. Tying shoes, opening the car door, starting the car, and texting is all very challenging. Heck, I've been working at this pop-tart wrapper for five minutes now!
The wall was about 15 feet high and a couple hundred feet long. There were enough people there to confirm that this wasn't some shady fly-by-night operation, but it was by no means overcrowded. there were no top-ropes like I was used to at the rock climbing gyms I had been to in Arizona, but those had 45 foot walls, and I preferred this. I didn't need anyone to belay me, and there were ample amounts of padding on the floor to save me even if I completely fell flat on my back.
It only took a few ascents for me to realize that I do not have the forearm strength required for this kind of climbing. there were only a few very small sections that were not inclined to some degree, and thus I needed to have a very strong grip to keep my body on the wall. On my first climb I got near the top and tried a dynamic move (where you swing to reach a handhold and aren't necessarily holding onto anything while you're moving) and scraped my arm. I had to keep caking chalk onto it to keep it from bleeding. I tried a few of the more difficult climbs, and kept going back again and again to the wall. Each attempt (even on the easy routes) took a huge toll on my wrists and forearms. After about an hour I couldn't support my own body weight from one hand, which made climbing nearly impossible. I guess I just need to keep going back frequently to strengthen my arms and get those muscle groups to wake up and get to work.
I had a blast though. There was a nice variety of people. A couple of kids (who must have barely started high school) were fairly proficient at kicking my butt on every route I tried. I guess I'm really not that good at climbing after all, but then again it has been more than a year since I've been to a climbing gym. There was also a cute toddler who was there climbing with his dad; he even had his own tiny chalk bag clipped to his belt. I wanna have one of those when I grow up (a kid who can climb that is).
I think I stayed at it for almost two hours,then determined that I had inhaled enough chalk dust and that my hands could no longer grip enough to make this fun. I'm looking forward to having more endurance so I can keep at it, and then I might be ready for some real climbs this summer in Moab, or Zion. But for now my hands won't do the simplest tasks I tell them to. Tying shoes, opening the car door, starting the car, and texting is all very challenging. Heck, I've been working at this pop-tart wrapper for five minutes now!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Why I love Salt Lake City
Although the drive out to Utah was uneventful, living here has been an amazing eye opener. I enjoy living so close to Temple Square. It is a sight that is sacred to me. In the short amount of time that I have been here I have already had many interesting experiences there. It's awesome to see so many happy families strolling by, so many brides and grooms getting their photos taken in front of the massive doors. One thing I have noticed about being in Utah is how many more young couples are actually married. It's a different world out here. Apart from the spiritual moments I have centered around these religious areas, I have also greatly enjoyed being back up in the mountains. I think I'll have to start a hiking club at school or something because, although it's nice to get out on your own, it would be nice to have some company when I'm out on a mountain face. On Friday I had nothing to do between my morning class and the dance that was to be held that evening. I sat on my computer for a couple hours killing time and looking at places I'd like to see soon. I began by searching for nearby hikes. They all looked kinda lame. So then I searched for a topographical map and narrowed down the three highest peaks within a half hour drive. I plotted one a map and decided I would drive over to see what the hiking might be like for another day. By the time I was don writing down the directions I had decided to bring my hiking boots in case I wanted to get out and take some pictures. Then as I went in the closet to get the boots I figured I might as well bring along my ski poles to help if I decided to go for a little walk. By the time I got down to my car I had loaded up with boots, poles, backpack, two water bottles, trail mix, camera, sunglasses, GPS, and about 180' of rope. Clearly I am not one to sit back and daydream about doing something for too long. Spontaneously doing something today trumps planning on doing it someday every time in my book.
My old Subaru Outback chugged along the freeway as I made my way closer and closer to the mountains. Off in the distance the Wasatch mountains are a formidable sight. As I drew nearer and nearer to them I began to realize how insanely tall 10,000 feet really was. It's when you get right at the base of the mountain that you think you can actually climb it because: 1. at least you're starting to climb. and 2. your perspective is so thrown off at that point that it doesn't look all that bad.
The entrance tot he park was a little town catering to the needs of skiers and snowboarders. Every signpost and store facade seemed to have some allusion to being on the slopes. I liked it. I stopped at a 7eleven to pick up some new batteries for my GPS. (I still say that is one of the best $95 I've ever spent). After driving up the twisty road for about 3 miles I pulled off to the side in a snow bank and geared up. I had wisely chosen to wear my old hand-me-down Columbia jacket instead of my new pea coat this time around; it was light, it was warm, and I didn't really care if it got torn up.
It only took a few yards of hiking for me to notice the benefit of bringing the ski poles. It only took a few more yards to realize that my body was still not used to a brisk walk with such little oxygen available. I climbed along the gently zig-zagging path which was clearly intended to be at least bicycle (if not wheelchair) accessible. Too tame, I thought to myself. I looked down the narrow and inviting pathway, and then looked directly to my right at the boulders ascending high overhead. That's the route for me. I first tried to tuck my ski poles in between my pack and my coat; then I attempted to insert them vertically between the strap and my spine. In the end I left them dangling from my wrists while I climbed over the first boulder. Since the poles kept getting snagged on cracks and branches I deduced that their benefit on this particular outing was outweighed by their hindrance. I left them on top of my first boulder and trusted to my GPS that I would be able to recover them after I was done gallivanting.
I scrambled up over the next few boulders only to find that the way up from that point was impeded by several scrubby looking shrubs and juniper trees that were grown too tightly together for me to pass without a machete. I surveyed my surroundings and found the cliff on the opposite end of a small valley to be much taller, more interesting, and inevitably more fun. As I traipsed along the edge of this ravine I took note of the slippery, sharp shale that lay all about in varying different hues. There were some large chunks that were light green, like rusted copper; the majority, however, was a deep purple color.
I made my way to the bottom of the canyon and began again my ascent. The entire cliff face was comprised of multiple layers, and leaning several degrees towards the south. It looked kind of like giant ice cream sandwiches someone had set up like dominoes that were slowly tumbling down. Often I would have to do some legitimate rock climbing to get up to a ledge where I could rest and reevaluate. When I though I was on the right rock I could climb all the way to the top I realized that I had to switch to another one and jumped across. It was a bit disconcerting when something I took to be a very solid rock broke off in my hand. I let it fall and it seemed to hang in midair until it was obliterated on the other rocks below. A lot of the climb was along the tilted face of the rocks and so I didn't really need to cling on for dear life, but I definitely couldn't have stood up and hiked. It was a job for all fours.
One time I got as high as I could on a certain face and had to switch to another. the gap in between the two was about 12 feet, more than I wanted to jump, and less than I could span with my body. I had to back track a little and go at it again. I've found that I like down climbing much less that up climbing. When you're going up you can forget how far you've come and you don't really notice that you're 300 feet off the ground; you can also see the hand holds ahead of you. When climbing down you have to feel around with your feet for a secure hold while your hands are getting more and more tired from supporting your body weight, and the weight of all that stupid trail mix you brought along. Side note: Steel toed boots do not make good climbing shoes. If ever I got nervous, or started to freeze up I had to remind myself to just keep moving. The longer you wait, the more tired you get, and the more psychologically strenuous your activity becomes. Besides, I was out there alone. The only clue I had left was a vague facebook post about climbing another mountain. I don't know if you know this or not,but there are a freaking lot of mountains in Utah. If I slipped, fell, broke something, got mauled by a mountain lion, or got lost, there was no one coming to get me; such is the cost and risk of going off the beaten path. -Don't worry Mom, I'm really just trying to make this sound cooler than it actually was-
I rested at the top of the final cliff and took some video. The first set of boulders I had climbed seemed so remote. I hadn't covered that much ground horizontally, but from my Subaru (that I could still see) to my perch atop these rock was about a 750 foot climb. The winding road I pulled off of to park was more below me than it was beside me. It's a strange phenomenon that's hard to describe, and feelings of vertigo can set in pretty quickly if you're not careful. The whole mountain is tipped one way, gravity is pulling you another way, and the road that you know to be level, flat, and smooth is laid out in front of you. I found myself leaning further back than was probably necessary just to avoid an unintended front flip.
After my short recess I continued to climb. Hiking is a lot tougher for me than rock climbing. After a few feet I already missed my ski poles. My lungs ached, and each step got exponentially harder than the one before. I finally got up to about 6,100 feet before the same scrubby brush that had stood in my way before showed up. I couldn't go any further up the mountain, and I surely didn't want to go back the way I had come. I decided to go down the nice sunny side of the mountain. It still involved a lot of down climbing, and some leaping from rock to rock, but all in all it went favorably. Near the end of my descent I came across a few boulders that were inclined too far for me to down climb in my current skill level,and too high for me to jump down. I realized that I hadn't yet tested out my rope. I looped it around a rock and began to slide down to the ground below. It was about a 15 foot descent onto uneven ground. I still didn't fully trust the rope. It was cheap stuff I had picked up at a hardware store back in Wisconsin. My brothers, my nephews, and I had been using it to practice rappelling down the tree in my mom's back yard. It was only rated to 135 pounds, and I weigh 30 more than that without the backpack. I doubled it up, and lamented the fact that I didn't have thicker gloves as I let the rope slide through my hands. So far so good. Once safely back on the ground I attempted to unloop the rope, but to no avail. It had gotten stuck good and tight. I tried a couple times to climb the difficult incline. I would get up about 8 feet then run out of good hand holds. I dropped back down a few times, then took a swing at it without all my gear. Still no luck. I realized that: 1. I'm really not that good at rock climbing, 2. Steel toed boots are really not good for rock climbing shoes, and 3. I was tired out from all the other climbing I had already done that day. I left my stuff and walked around to find a more favorable way up. Such a way was found only about 50 feet away; guess I didn't need to use the rope after all.
After getting back on the trail at the base of the mountain I used my trusty GPS to get me back to the ski poles. I hiked down to my Subaru, and collapsed into the front seat. All in all it was a pretty good hike, and I still had time to get home and shower before the dance that night.
My old Subaru Outback chugged along the freeway as I made my way closer and closer to the mountains. Off in the distance the Wasatch mountains are a formidable sight. As I drew nearer and nearer to them I began to realize how insanely tall 10,000 feet really was. It's when you get right at the base of the mountain that you think you can actually climb it because: 1. at least you're starting to climb. and 2. your perspective is so thrown off at that point that it doesn't look all that bad.
The entrance tot he park was a little town catering to the needs of skiers and snowboarders. Every signpost and store facade seemed to have some allusion to being on the slopes. I liked it. I stopped at a 7eleven to pick up some new batteries for my GPS. (I still say that is one of the best $95 I've ever spent). After driving up the twisty road for about 3 miles I pulled off to the side in a snow bank and geared up. I had wisely chosen to wear my old hand-me-down Columbia jacket instead of my new pea coat this time around; it was light, it was warm, and I didn't really care if it got torn up.
It only took a few yards of hiking for me to notice the benefit of bringing the ski poles. It only took a few more yards to realize that my body was still not used to a brisk walk with such little oxygen available. I climbed along the gently zig-zagging path which was clearly intended to be at least bicycle (if not wheelchair) accessible. Too tame, I thought to myself. I looked down the narrow and inviting pathway, and then looked directly to my right at the boulders ascending high overhead. That's the route for me. I first tried to tuck my ski poles in between my pack and my coat; then I attempted to insert them vertically between the strap and my spine. In the end I left them dangling from my wrists while I climbed over the first boulder. Since the poles kept getting snagged on cracks and branches I deduced that their benefit on this particular outing was outweighed by their hindrance. I left them on top of my first boulder and trusted to my GPS that I would be able to recover them after I was done gallivanting.
I scrambled up over the next few boulders only to find that the way up from that point was impeded by several scrubby looking shrubs and juniper trees that were grown too tightly together for me to pass without a machete. I surveyed my surroundings and found the cliff on the opposite end of a small valley to be much taller, more interesting, and inevitably more fun. As I traipsed along the edge of this ravine I took note of the slippery, sharp shale that lay all about in varying different hues. There were some large chunks that were light green, like rusted copper; the majority, however, was a deep purple color.
I made my way to the bottom of the canyon and began again my ascent. The entire cliff face was comprised of multiple layers, and leaning several degrees towards the south. It looked kind of like giant ice cream sandwiches someone had set up like dominoes that were slowly tumbling down. Often I would have to do some legitimate rock climbing to get up to a ledge where I could rest and reevaluate. When I though I was on the right rock I could climb all the way to the top I realized that I had to switch to another one and jumped across. It was a bit disconcerting when something I took to be a very solid rock broke off in my hand. I let it fall and it seemed to hang in midair until it was obliterated on the other rocks below. A lot of the climb was along the tilted face of the rocks and so I didn't really need to cling on for dear life, but I definitely couldn't have stood up and hiked. It was a job for all fours.
One time I got as high as I could on a certain face and had to switch to another. the gap in between the two was about 12 feet, more than I wanted to jump, and less than I could span with my body. I had to back track a little and go at it again. I've found that I like down climbing much less that up climbing. When you're going up you can forget how far you've come and you don't really notice that you're 300 feet off the ground; you can also see the hand holds ahead of you. When climbing down you have to feel around with your feet for a secure hold while your hands are getting more and more tired from supporting your body weight, and the weight of all that stupid trail mix you brought along. Side note: Steel toed boots do not make good climbing shoes. If ever I got nervous, or started to freeze up I had to remind myself to just keep moving. The longer you wait, the more tired you get, and the more psychologically strenuous your activity becomes. Besides, I was out there alone. The only clue I had left was a vague facebook post about climbing another mountain. I don't know if you know this or not,but there are a freaking lot of mountains in Utah. If I slipped, fell, broke something, got mauled by a mountain lion, or got lost, there was no one coming to get me; such is the cost and risk of going off the beaten path. -Don't worry Mom, I'm really just trying to make this sound cooler than it actually was-
I rested at the top of the final cliff and took some video. The first set of boulders I had climbed seemed so remote. I hadn't covered that much ground horizontally, but from my Subaru (that I could still see) to my perch atop these rock was about a 750 foot climb. The winding road I pulled off of to park was more below me than it was beside me. It's a strange phenomenon that's hard to describe, and feelings of vertigo can set in pretty quickly if you're not careful. The whole mountain is tipped one way, gravity is pulling you another way, and the road that you know to be level, flat, and smooth is laid out in front of you. I found myself leaning further back than was probably necessary just to avoid an unintended front flip.
After my short recess I continued to climb. Hiking is a lot tougher for me than rock climbing. After a few feet I already missed my ski poles. My lungs ached, and each step got exponentially harder than the one before. I finally got up to about 6,100 feet before the same scrubby brush that had stood in my way before showed up. I couldn't go any further up the mountain, and I surely didn't want to go back the way I had come. I decided to go down the nice sunny side of the mountain. It still involved a lot of down climbing, and some leaping from rock to rock, but all in all it went favorably. Near the end of my descent I came across a few boulders that were inclined too far for me to down climb in my current skill level,and too high for me to jump down. I realized that I hadn't yet tested out my rope. I looped it around a rock and began to slide down to the ground below. It was about a 15 foot descent onto uneven ground. I still didn't fully trust the rope. It was cheap stuff I had picked up at a hardware store back in Wisconsin. My brothers, my nephews, and I had been using it to practice rappelling down the tree in my mom's back yard. It was only rated to 135 pounds, and I weigh 30 more than that without the backpack. I doubled it up, and lamented the fact that I didn't have thicker gloves as I let the rope slide through my hands. So far so good. Once safely back on the ground I attempted to unloop the rope, but to no avail. It had gotten stuck good and tight. I tried a couple times to climb the difficult incline. I would get up about 8 feet then run out of good hand holds. I dropped back down a few times, then took a swing at it without all my gear. Still no luck. I realized that: 1. I'm really not that good at rock climbing, 2. Steel toed boots are really not good for rock climbing shoes, and 3. I was tired out from all the other climbing I had already done that day. I left my stuff and walked around to find a more favorable way up. Such a way was found only about 50 feet away; guess I didn't need to use the rope after all.
After getting back on the trail at the base of the mountain I used my trusty GPS to get me back to the ski poles. I hiked down to my Subaru, and collapsed into the front seat. All in all it was a pretty good hike, and I still had time to get home and shower before the dance that night.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Salt Lake City
This is such a beautiful city. I live a block away from Temple Square which is amazing! I can look out my window and see a handful of historical church sites.
Today I wanted to get out and explore, so I got in my car to head to a nearby rock climbing gym, but almost as soon as I started driving I decided I'd rather go climb a mountain instead. I had no idea where I was going, but I figured I would just drive up the steepest roads I could find until I got to a trail head or something. I'm still surprised at how well my Subaru is holding up after 217,000 miles on it. True, I haven't had it for too long, but there's no denying they are great cars. There seem to be a lot more Subarus out west as well.
Anyway, I drove in circles for a bit until I saw a promising looking mountain. I pulled over in a rather affluent neighborhood and hopped out. As soon as I started scrambling up over the rocks I noticed how much thinner the air was, and how out of shape I was for such endeavors. After I had climbed up abut 300 feet I set my GPS and started my hike. I climbed up one ridge, and saw some cliffs off in the distance. It looked too far to get to, especially for how mad my lungs already were at me; it looked like a good goal though. We had just gotten a few inches of snow.
I felt like every vertical foot I climbed was harder than 20 feet going forward. Eventually I made my way around the mountains until I came to the cliffs. It was difficult with the wind whipping my face and my body not deciding if it was cold or hot. Often I would open up my jacket to cool down because of how hard it was to climb, but at other times I had to put my hood up and button up all the way to protect against the frigid mountain air.
As I got nearer to the cliffs I noticed that they were not just smooth sandstone, as I had supposed, but they were a strange pile of rocks of various sizes and colors all held together by a natural concrete. It was very dangerous climbing because every time I thought I had a good solid handhold or foothold it would break away and the stone would go tumbling hundreds of feet into the valley below. I tried to take pictures and get video, but they never seem to do it justice.
The trek back to the car was every bit as exhausting as my hike out. I did see a few deer hiding in the dogwood thickets. They would wait and stare at me until I attempted to get closer, then they would go bounding off. I was amazing how easy they made it look. Here I was sliding and scrambling not knowing what kind of surface was under the snow cover, and they could practically run down the mountain and think nothing of it.
All in all it was about a 3 mile hike with a vertical change of 1,066 feet.
I drove back into town and grabbed a Gyro from a local burger place. It's the closest version of a kebab I've had since I was in England. When I got out of my car I noticed that I had left my camera on the roof of the car for the whole ride home. I'm just glad I stuck it into the pile of snow on top; if it had slid off at any point I'm sure I would have never found it again.
Monday, October 10, 2011
All hauled out
The sky was still dark at 5:30 when my alarm went off. I awoke to find that I still had my jeans and t-shirt on from the night before. I hastily crammed down a pop-tart and hopped up into my lifted Jeep Cherokee. Down at the Marina I met up with Mark shortly after fumbling with he keys in the creaky gate. It was only 6 hours prior that we had dropped the mast on my Bristol 24.
Dropping the mast was a stressful proposition as raising it had been a nightmare both times. The mast was old heavy aluminum, and the forces being exerted combined with the leverage placed on all the components worried me. I rigged up the boom to act as a lever arm, and used the main sheet to do all the work of lowering it. I also ran a precautionary line from the back stay to the stern rail just to be safe. We had another couple people helping out, but in the end the mast lowered very slowly and smoothly. It was as uneventful as I could have hoped for.
After saying goodbye to everyone and tidying up I took a moment to pause in the companionway hatch to think about my boat. It had been almost a year ago that I had bought it. She had come a long way. There are a lot of cosmetic problems that I fixed, and some that I inflicted over my ownership of her. I had traveled over a hundred miles aboard her over the course of the summer. It wasn't quite as grand as I had planned, but there are times when you just need to take a step back and re-evaluate what's going on. My trip to Manitowoc had been my final sail. Had I known I may have carried it out with a bit more fanfare, but still it seemed a fitting time to say goodbye to my boat. It wasn't just the last sail of the season, but the last I would ever have on her. I'm thankful she sold so quickly, so I wouldn't have time to change my mind. Still I'd like to get her cleaned up for the next owner.
Mark helped steer while I rowed my 8 foot pram dinghy. The key to effectively pulling such a heavy boat by such primitive means is to use a very long line to absorb the shock as you row. We were making probably a knot-an-a-half over toward the boat ramp. We tied up and I ran errands until the moving company came to pull her out.
The big semi trailer backed down the boat ramp and easily slid Aequitas up out of the water. I had forgotten how pretty she looked when you could see all of her. Admittedly she needed some cleaning. Algae had grown on the one side exposed to the sun, and I could see the chunk of fiberglass that had been taken out of the bow from that fateful failed voyage with the Bradings.
After the stands were in place on the old road I went to work cleaning off the slime. I only had one sponge and no water to use, so it kind of just mixed in with the paint, and has since flaked off into a very unattractive finish. I intend to patch up the bow, scrub off the flakes, and if I can get around to it, apply some more varnish to the woodwork. I want the next owners to have as little reason for remorse as possible. She is after all a strong seaworthy boat, I just can't give her the life she deserves right now. I daresay I'm leaving her better than I found her though. She got to get out on the water and ride around happily on the waves. I'm sure it won't be long before she's back out there, reunited with one of her previous owners. I am still quite anxious to find if he has any information into her history.
Dropping the mast was a stressful proposition as raising it had been a nightmare both times. The mast was old heavy aluminum, and the forces being exerted combined with the leverage placed on all the components worried me. I rigged up the boom to act as a lever arm, and used the main sheet to do all the work of lowering it. I also ran a precautionary line from the back stay to the stern rail just to be safe. We had another couple people helping out, but in the end the mast lowered very slowly and smoothly. It was as uneventful as I could have hoped for.
After saying goodbye to everyone and tidying up I took a moment to pause in the companionway hatch to think about my boat. It had been almost a year ago that I had bought it. She had come a long way. There are a lot of cosmetic problems that I fixed, and some that I inflicted over my ownership of her. I had traveled over a hundred miles aboard her over the course of the summer. It wasn't quite as grand as I had planned, but there are times when you just need to take a step back and re-evaluate what's going on. My trip to Manitowoc had been my final sail. Had I known I may have carried it out with a bit more fanfare, but still it seemed a fitting time to say goodbye to my boat. It wasn't just the last sail of the season, but the last I would ever have on her. I'm thankful she sold so quickly, so I wouldn't have time to change my mind. Still I'd like to get her cleaned up for the next owner.
Mark helped steer while I rowed my 8 foot pram dinghy. The key to effectively pulling such a heavy boat by such primitive means is to use a very long line to absorb the shock as you row. We were making probably a knot-an-a-half over toward the boat ramp. We tied up and I ran errands until the moving company came to pull her out.
The big semi trailer backed down the boat ramp and easily slid Aequitas up out of the water. I had forgotten how pretty she looked when you could see all of her. Admittedly she needed some cleaning. Algae had grown on the one side exposed to the sun, and I could see the chunk of fiberglass that had been taken out of the bow from that fateful failed voyage with the Bradings.
After the stands were in place on the old road I went to work cleaning off the slime. I only had one sponge and no water to use, so it kind of just mixed in with the paint, and has since flaked off into a very unattractive finish. I intend to patch up the bow, scrub off the flakes, and if I can get around to it, apply some more varnish to the woodwork. I want the next owners to have as little reason for remorse as possible. She is after all a strong seaworthy boat, I just can't give her the life she deserves right now. I daresay I'm leaving her better than I found her though. She got to get out on the water and ride around happily on the waves. I'm sure it won't be long before she's back out there, reunited with one of her previous owners. I am still quite anxious to find if he has any information into her history.
Monday, October 3, 2011
All in the family
Tomorrow I am officially pulling my boat out of the water. I was woken up this morning by the moving company asking if I was ready to go at 7:00 in the morning Tuesday. I still have to drop the mast which will be an ordeal in itself. I told them my predicament, but now I think I will try to get it down tonight with the help of a few friends, and of course I will be enlisting the assistance off Innocent bystanders. We're all boaters though, so you lend a hand where you can. I guess I've learned to accept how friendly people are down at the docks.
I have gotten a few emails and offers for my boat. I have been praying to know if I really should be going off to school, or if I should really be selling my boat. When I bought her I had nagging doubts that I ignored proving that I can push on through anything, but now that I have put her up for sale a lot of things seem to be clicking into place. It has been a big drain on my time and energy, but for now I will still cherish the time that I've spent learning and living this summer on my boat. One of the people who emailed me said that he thinks it used to be his dad's old boat. He can remember being on it as a 7 year old. Apparently the color and trim all look the same. He's trying to get it back in the family. I would much rather sell to someone like that, than just a random person with no attachment to the boat. I wonder if he has any old photos of it, or what it's name was before. It would be awesome to have a scrapbook of previous owners for a boat. I wasn't sure, but he asked if I still had a particular teakettle on board that was of sentimental significance to his father. I can only imagine it is the peculiar silver one with the cooking ring mounted below it. No one that has seen this kettle has ever seen another like it. I hope we can put this together for him. I was all set to keep her, but for things to be moving along so quickly, and for a buyer to pop up for me in a week when the boat yard couldn't sell her for years must mean something.
I have gotten a few emails and offers for my boat. I have been praying to know if I really should be going off to school, or if I should really be selling my boat. When I bought her I had nagging doubts that I ignored proving that I can push on through anything, but now that I have put her up for sale a lot of things seem to be clicking into place. It has been a big drain on my time and energy, but for now I will still cherish the time that I've spent learning and living this summer on my boat. One of the people who emailed me said that he thinks it used to be his dad's old boat. He can remember being on it as a 7 year old. Apparently the color and trim all look the same. He's trying to get it back in the family. I would much rather sell to someone like that, than just a random person with no attachment to the boat. I wonder if he has any old photos of it, or what it's name was before. It would be awesome to have a scrapbook of previous owners for a boat. I wasn't sure, but he asked if I still had a particular teakettle on board that was of sentimental significance to his father. I can only imagine it is the peculiar silver one with the cooking ring mounted below it. No one that has seen this kettle has ever seen another like it. I hope we can put this together for him. I was all set to keep her, but for things to be moving along so quickly, and for a buyer to pop up for me in a week when the boat yard couldn't sell her for years must mean something.
Friday, September 30, 2011
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!
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!
Friday, September 2, 2011
A solid week
This week started out with the fiasco of Sunday sailing, followed by the trepidation of Tuesday which ended up being a perfect day, then on Wednesday I wanted to go sailing with Dani in the morning, but we never got together in time and I had to head off to work. I text messaged her a few times throughout the day, and was delighted when she called me close to quitting time and informed me that she was in my neighborhood. At first she said that she was in my Cul-de-sac which I thought was a bit odd. Then it clicked that she was in the marina. She had been visiting on the Sea Scout’s Merit 25 and had me come down to say hi. I couldn’t very well ignore her since I live down there. As I was nearing the harbor she also invited me to join them on a night sail that they had been “roped in to”. I’m not so sure it would have taken too much convincing to get her to go sailing. We turned on the running lights, I fired up the motor, and we had a lovely evening sailing under just jib. The wind was quite fresh and we were heeled nicely. It was awesome to be able to look up and see the Milky Way over the pitch black waters.
The next day I didn’t sail at all, but Friday I went with my brother, Max, and his girlfriend. She got sea sick with the 3-4 foot waves. I felt bad, but we had a great time sailing from 6:30 till sunset. On Friday I spend $70.00 on an antique outboard motor for the dinghy. It started right up when I bought it, then I slapped it on the dinghy and didn’t bother with it because I had more guests joining me for the evening. My brother, sister, and a few friends came along for another breezy sail. The waves were about the biggest I’ve sailed in, and Aequitas handled it all with ease.
On Sunday after church I went down to try and start the motor. It was a bit disconcerting when it began to spray gasoline everywhere. It took a couple tries, but I got her cranked up and was able to motor about 3 meters away from my dock before the engine died. I had forgotten to bring the oars with me and so I was reduced to hand paddling it back to the dock. Luckily the wind was in my favor. My siblings and mom came down for a Sunday afternoon sail. It was glorious. The wind was fresh, the seas were exciting. My mom got a bit seasick, as did my brother, Liam, but after an hour or so all the kids just went below and took turns taking naps. It was peaceful. We sailed easily on a broad reach out east and down south, but were hard pressed pinching up into the wind to make it home in a timely manner.
Tomorrow I should be picking up an old Jeep Cherokee so I can finally have my own car, I can tow my grandma’s little dinghy boat, and I can go off-roading. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Conquering
As soon as I got done with my blog post yesterday I thought about how nervous I had been about sailing since I have so many mishaps. I realized that I was letting my fear of failure keep me in the harbor on a day that could turn out to be a beautiful day. I didn't want to let my anxiety keep me from doing something I love. I didn't want to crash into the pier again, but I wasn't gonna sit on land if I could possibly be out on the water.
After I left the library I drove straight to the marina, threw off the mooring lines, flipped my boat around, raised the main, and headed out. No collisions, no close calls. I didn't even really have to tack to get out of the harbor. Getting out is the hard part, and once that was out of the way it was easy. I called Dani so she could come sailing after all; but since I told her the weather was going to be too bad, she had already made other plans. I sailed off alone.
The wind was pretty strong, coming out of the south, and it took me a couple minutes to set the jib, but once both sails were up I was cruising along at a pretty good pace just enjoying life. My brother, Spencer, called to see if he and his friend, Seth, could come sailing too. I could see a few people starting to get out their paddle boards and surf boards. There were pretty good waves for once, usually the lake doesn't kick up cresting waves close to shore. I dropped anchor just outside of the heavy impact zone for the waves and began to get the dinghy ready. Aequitas was still jumping up and down quite a bit on the waves so getting into the little 8 foot boat was somewhat challenging. I surfed on a couple waves as I got closer to shore, but just as I was about to get out and walk the rest of the way a huge wave broke over the stern and filled the dinghy halfway with water and sand.
Getting in was the easy part. I almost got swamped with just me in the boat. Now we were cramming two more people in and trying to fight against the waves. It was a pretty hairy situation, but very fun. We had to lean one way to avoid the waves, and then counter balance to keep water from lapping up over the gunwales. I had to push the boat past the breakers before I could climb up and start rowing. In the end we had a glorious sail and I'm really glad I went.
A life lived in fear is a life half lived.
After I left the library I drove straight to the marina, threw off the mooring lines, flipped my boat around, raised the main, and headed out. No collisions, no close calls. I didn't even really have to tack to get out of the harbor. Getting out is the hard part, and once that was out of the way it was easy. I called Dani so she could come sailing after all; but since I told her the weather was going to be too bad, she had already made other plans. I sailed off alone.
The wind was pretty strong, coming out of the south, and it took me a couple minutes to set the jib, but once both sails were up I was cruising along at a pretty good pace just enjoying life. My brother, Spencer, called to see if he and his friend, Seth, could come sailing too. I could see a few people starting to get out their paddle boards and surf boards. There were pretty good waves for once, usually the lake doesn't kick up cresting waves close to shore. I dropped anchor just outside of the heavy impact zone for the waves and began to get the dinghy ready. Aequitas was still jumping up and down quite a bit on the waves so getting into the little 8 foot boat was somewhat challenging. I surfed on a couple waves as I got closer to shore, but just as I was about to get out and walk the rest of the way a huge wave broke over the stern and filled the dinghy halfway with water and sand.
Getting in was the easy part. I almost got swamped with just me in the boat. Now we were cramming two more people in and trying to fight against the waves. It was a pretty hairy situation, but very fun. We had to lean one way to avoid the waves, and then counter balance to keep water from lapping up over the gunwales. I had to push the boat past the breakers before I could climb up and start rowing. In the end we had a glorious sail and I'm really glad I went.
A life lived in fear is a life half lived.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Shaken, stirred, and on the rocks.
I have the worst luck taking people sailing. I don't know why it is, but for some reason I can sail the boat perfectly fine on my own; but when I try and bring people along there's some kind of catastrophe.
My friend, Dani, is home for a couple weeks visiting from Alaska. The plan was to go sailing after church on Sunday. It all seemed like a good idea. There was a fair breeze coming out of the west. I had learned my lesson last time to just go out using the jib in this type of wind. Dani brought along her two brothers and two sisters to enjoy the beautiful sunny day out sailing. So far so good. My neighbors had left and sailed on down to Racine for the rest of the season, so there was plenty of room to turn my boat around in the slip and head out forward. It should have been the easiest time ever. AS we were shoving off, we all hopped on board except for Dani's older brother; he hesitated slightly and with each passing second the boat got further and further from land. I had the dinghy behind, but he didn't jump into that one either. He also had some electronics with him, so he couldn't very well jump in and swim. I'm not one to leave anyone behind, so I sailed down to the end of the dock and tried to spin around. This was much harder than anticipated, and we only just made it back to a slip at the very end of the dock. Once again we were close to Chance a Santa Cruz 70...very expensive boat. I was a bit nervous of shoving off so close to this other boat, but we made it around ok, and just as I turned the boat to head up into the wind more and trim the sails in a bit, my boat started to head for the rocks. I tried counter steering as much as I could, but in the end had to flip the tiller to avoid the breakwater. We did a 360 degree turn and tried it again. the same thing happened this time again. In hindsight I should have just eased the jib out all the way and let that carry us out of the harbor. I'm pretty sure I did, and it didn't work, but it was so stressful that the details are a bit blurry right now. The second time we were headed straight for the rocks again, and even though I spilled the sail completely, we were still drifting sideways towards them. Once again I flipped the tiller over in hopes that we could swing around and miss the rocks. No such luck. I called for people to be on the fore-deck to kick off the rocks if anything were to happen, but I forget that most people don't know how heavy the boat is, how deep the rocks are. I'm sure if it was my first time on a boat I wouldn't want to run the risk of getting crushed.
In the end I had to run foreward and try to stop the boat. I jumped onto the rocks and braced myself against the bow pulpit, but we were already moving too fast. there was a loud CRUNCH! as the bow slammed into a submerged rock. I had run aground before, but that was slowly, and against sand. There was no telling the damage that had just been done. I pushed the boat back and tried to head out again, but the wind resisted my best efforts at even getting back to the slip. In the end some concerned citizens in rigid inflatable boats came over and pulled me back to safety. Reputation: gone. Confidence: shattered. Boat: battered.
We tied up at the slip and thanked our rescuers. The siblings left and Dani stayed behind to make sure I didn't die of shame. For some reason she blamed herself, but this wouldn't have happened if I had my engine working, or possibly if I had my mainsail up. It was to blustery for both sails in the harbor. I wish I had been able to learn what I needed to do and still gone sailing, but after an attempt like that I feel much better just sitting at the dock and not risking it again. Sailing is a risk, and I guess this is my "practice boat", I just wish I could sail whenever and wherever I want.
I put on my snorkel mask and dove down to assess the damage. Luckily I did but such a sturdy boat. I know she can take quite a beating, but that doesn't mean I like inflicting injuries. There was a small chunk of fiberglass below the waterline. It looked like a little divot. There was no hole, and no water coming into the boat, it's just one more thing I'll have to repair when I pull her out in October. We went for a walk, I was able to clear my mind a bit, but then we sat on the boat chatting for the rest of the day. I really wanted to go sailing.
Today we were planning on sailing as well, but the weather called for damaging winds, hail, thunderstorms, and possibly tornadoes. It's probably wise that we didn't go today.
My friend, Dani, is home for a couple weeks visiting from Alaska. The plan was to go sailing after church on Sunday. It all seemed like a good idea. There was a fair breeze coming out of the west. I had learned my lesson last time to just go out using the jib in this type of wind. Dani brought along her two brothers and two sisters to enjoy the beautiful sunny day out sailing. So far so good. My neighbors had left and sailed on down to Racine for the rest of the season, so there was plenty of room to turn my boat around in the slip and head out forward. It should have been the easiest time ever. AS we were shoving off, we all hopped on board except for Dani's older brother; he hesitated slightly and with each passing second the boat got further and further from land. I had the dinghy behind, but he didn't jump into that one either. He also had some electronics with him, so he couldn't very well jump in and swim. I'm not one to leave anyone behind, so I sailed down to the end of the dock and tried to spin around. This was much harder than anticipated, and we only just made it back to a slip at the very end of the dock. Once again we were close to Chance a Santa Cruz 70...very expensive boat. I was a bit nervous of shoving off so close to this other boat, but we made it around ok, and just as I turned the boat to head up into the wind more and trim the sails in a bit, my boat started to head for the rocks. I tried counter steering as much as I could, but in the end had to flip the tiller to avoid the breakwater. We did a 360 degree turn and tried it again. the same thing happened this time again. In hindsight I should have just eased the jib out all the way and let that carry us out of the harbor. I'm pretty sure I did, and it didn't work, but it was so stressful that the details are a bit blurry right now. The second time we were headed straight for the rocks again, and even though I spilled the sail completely, we were still drifting sideways towards them. Once again I flipped the tiller over in hopes that we could swing around and miss the rocks. No such luck. I called for people to be on the fore-deck to kick off the rocks if anything were to happen, but I forget that most people don't know how heavy the boat is, how deep the rocks are. I'm sure if it was my first time on a boat I wouldn't want to run the risk of getting crushed.
In the end I had to run foreward and try to stop the boat. I jumped onto the rocks and braced myself against the bow pulpit, but we were already moving too fast. there was a loud CRUNCH! as the bow slammed into a submerged rock. I had run aground before, but that was slowly, and against sand. There was no telling the damage that had just been done. I pushed the boat back and tried to head out again, but the wind resisted my best efforts at even getting back to the slip. In the end some concerned citizens in rigid inflatable boats came over and pulled me back to safety. Reputation: gone. Confidence: shattered. Boat: battered.
We tied up at the slip and thanked our rescuers. The siblings left and Dani stayed behind to make sure I didn't die of shame. For some reason she blamed herself, but this wouldn't have happened if I had my engine working, or possibly if I had my mainsail up. It was to blustery for both sails in the harbor. I wish I had been able to learn what I needed to do and still gone sailing, but after an attempt like that I feel much better just sitting at the dock and not risking it again. Sailing is a risk, and I guess this is my "practice boat", I just wish I could sail whenever and wherever I want.
I put on my snorkel mask and dove down to assess the damage. Luckily I did but such a sturdy boat. I know she can take quite a beating, but that doesn't mean I like inflicting injuries. There was a small chunk of fiberglass below the waterline. It looked like a little divot. There was no hole, and no water coming into the boat, it's just one more thing I'll have to repair when I pull her out in October. We went for a walk, I was able to clear my mind a bit, but then we sat on the boat chatting for the rest of the day. I really wanted to go sailing.
Today we were planning on sailing as well, but the weather called for damaging winds, hail, thunderstorms, and possibly tornadoes. It's probably wise that we didn't go today.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, August 1, 2011
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!
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.
Wish me luck!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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