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.

No wind = frustration

Yesterday it was light air again for the second Tuesday in a row. Getting out of the harbor was pretty hairy.  In fact this whole ordeal with low wind speeds has taken quite the toll on my confidence as an engine less sailor.  I pushed the boat out and by the time I hopped on she had flipped backwards and was trying to drift in between two docked boats.  I got her turned sideways, but then she kept drifting.  A guy came over to help push off.  No damage done I don't think, but I'd be mad if someone had bumped into my boat.  I'm starting to think that if there isn't a lot of wind, or at least a discernible direction of wind that I just won't go out.  After I got out of the harbor I was moving along at a slow walking pace.  It was a fun day still.  I had my brother, Liam, out on the boat.  We went snorkeling, and practiced diving through the transparent water down to the anchor.  I can hold my breath for about 2 minutes in a hot tub, but only about 20 seconds in the lake.  I don't know what they temperature difference does to me, but it's annoying. 
We entertained two families from church and had a grand ole' time just ghosting about.  I'm planning on heading across Lake Michigan in two weeks with whatever crew I can scare up.  I should be getting my new compass, GPS, anchor, sail cover, and hammock this week.  If only I could get my electrical system working, or a wind vane autopilot.  It would be nice to have one, but they're super expensive.  If you want to get me one for Christmas I won't complain!

What I've done

I had the chance to chat with some really cool people at work yesterday.  There was a group of four who were biking from California to Maine.  It was so fun to speak with others who have similar dreams to go out and face the odds and travel long distances on their own. One of the girls even had her own blog which was really well done.  It really inspired me to keep on working towards my goals.  I'd love to do a biking trip, but the boat trip is at the forefront of my mind right now.  I've had my doubts over the months, but when I think about how far I've come I can't help but keep going.
I guess this is as good a time as any to sum up what I've done in the process here.  So following will be a list of chores I've done and rough costs put into this venture.

• Find and purchase my Bristol 24                          $1,800 plus tax.
• Transport it to Sheboygan
• Paint transom                                                      $20
• Remove rotten floor in the cabin               
• Purchase random saws, drills, and other tools      $150
• Clean out ice box
• Clean out marine head (toilet)
• Replace floor with makeshift bunk boards
• "Install" carpeting                                                $10
• Sand all of the woodwork to bare wood             $16
• Varnish all the wood with 3 coats (sanding between coats) $25
• Paint cockpit
• Re-Seat stanchion bases                                    $15
• Buy anchor and chain                                         $55
• Paint bottom with anti-fouling paint                     $150
• Buy sails                                                            $1,200
• Pay for slip at the marina                                    $1,200
• Install propeller shaft seal
• Launch boat                                                      $262
• Raise mast with improper rigging
• Buy new turnbuckle                                          $80
• Get new shrouds made                                      $475
• Raise mast again with new shrouds
• Buy stay adjusters cause shrouds are too long   $107
• Jury rig the mast                                               $15
• Put name on the stern                                       $77
• Buy dinghy, oars, and dolly                               $310
• VHF radio                                                       $90
• GPS                                                                $95
• New compass                                                 $215
• Portable running lights                                      $20
• Repaint waterline
• New dorade vents                                           $90
• Stove and propane                                          $30
• Fenders                                                           $90
• New halyards, sheets, and blocks                     $260

So all in all I've spent around $7,000 on my little home that I plan to travel in.  I guess it really is true what they say: "A boat is a hole in the water you pour money into."

A few things of note

It's been a pretty fun week.  There have been triumphs and frustrations; realizations and determinations.  I guess I should backtrack a bit to explain things that are going on in order.  Summer is a pretty good time to have adventures, I just wish I had more time to be out there having them.  I had my friends, Charlotte and Kim, come down to go sailing with me on Saturday the 9th.  As we were walking down the dock to the boat I noticed a new couple struggling with a fishing net in the dinghy by their boat.  they seemed to be trying to scoop something off the bottom.  I had passed by them once, but when I realized that they were still at it half an hour later I knew they needed help.  I offered my assistance.  They had accidentally dropped a sliding cleat over the side of their boat. It was an essential piece of their boat and it was in a size that they don't make anymore.  They had mentioned calling the police to send a diver down, but either they didn't do it, or they realized it was a futile attempt.  I told them I had snorkeling gear and I'd be glad to dive for their lost cleat.  It was a bit awkward changing into a wetsuit on my boat while my friends were just on the other side of the thin cabin door, and I'm sure I looked a bit strange wearing a shorty wetsuit and dive goggles.

 I strapped a 20 pound weight around my foot and hopped in the water.  It took a little bit to get used to the chill, but after a minute I didn't notice the cold.  I took a deep breath and slipped below the surface of the murky harbor.  It was completely brown with all the silt that had been stirred up by their fishing net.  I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, but I was still glad to have the mask on.  I was probably about 9 feet deep when my feet sunk into the soft mud.  I immediately began digging around, sweeping the floor with my hands.  I didn't want to push my breath holding capacity, so I kicked back up to the surface.  It was surprisingly easy to get the weight back up with me.  I was directed as to exactly where the cleat fell overboard.  I was sure it would have shifted with all the commotion that had been made.

 I dove again and again about 4 times.  Once I found a little stick that was about the right size and shape, but it wasn't what I was going for.  I decided I was going to flatten myself on the bottom and sweep the whole area and stay down as long as I possibly could.  I took an extra deep breath and plunged down again.  Wouldn't you know it, my foot landed right on it.  It was a couple inches underneath the silt.  They were overjoyed when I returned their missing merchandise.  I didn't let them pay me, but it did get me thinking about how much I like diving for things.  I feel like I should find a shipwreck around here pretty soon just for fun.

After that adventure we did get out sailing and had a glorious time.  We heeled over pretty nicely and just chatted as we cruised about aimlessly.

On Tuesday the wind was nice and fresh in the morning, but by the time Spencer and his lady friend got there the wind had died.  We waited for half an hour before I got bored and decided to go out in whatever breeze there was.  We ghosted out of the harbor under main and jib, and then the wind picked up and we were able to actually move around the lake pretty well.  It was warm and clear with no waves and no clouds.  I tied a string to the tiller so the boat could steer itself for a little bit and then jumped into the dinghy to take pictures.  I love the way Aequitas looks when she's under sail.  I can't wait to get away from land. 

Spencer climbed the mast once because he had to free a halyard, and once just because he wanted to.  No matter how short the mast may seem from the deck, it feels so much taller when you're up on the spreaders.  He took some pictures and some video, but seemed happy to be back down.  You have to consider that any tipping or heeling motion that you would feel on deck is multiplied by how far up the mast you are.  If the boat is heeled over 15 degrees that doesn't feel like much from the boat, but up on the mast you'd be out over the water, not the boat.

As we sailed over the Niagara Escarpment (a giant chunk of the same rock that the Niagara Falls are carved from) we could see clearly through the surface and some times I was sure we would hit a submerged rock.  Amber, (Spencer's friend) was just laying on the foredeck soaking up the rays when all of a sudden her phone committed suicide.  For no reason at all it hopped, skipped, and plopped over the side of the boat without so much as a goodbye.  It was so odd, but oddly funny at the same time. 
We headed in to shore and dropped anchor.  I had friends from church out on the boat after that, but sadly the wind died again... ALL THE WAY!  I couldn't conjure up enough speed to even steer the boat.  It was a disappointing introduction to sailing for a few people.  We had fun swimming though.  Once while I was changing into a swimsuit I heard a grinding noise.  We had run aground again on a sand bar.  I hopped of and tried doing what I had always done, but she just got more and more stuck.  I tried having everyone sit on one side of the boat, and the little sister of the group hang off the boom to tilt it enough, but to no avail.  In the end I had to push the boat closer to shore into a channel between the sandbars, and then find a gap to get out.  After hours of no wind they decided to all head home in the dinghy.  It was quite a sight to see the little boat so loaded down, but it's a sturdy craft equal to the task. 

My brother, Max and his two friends came out after that.  I was able to get us moving slowly towards the lighthouse until the shift in air temperature from day to evening created a little breeze.  I got us all the way around into the harbor, but then when I tried tacking up against the non-existent wind we almost drifted up against the rocks.  Twice.  I jumped in to save my hull once, and max went in the second time while I tried to row the boat out of harms way with the dinghy and about 200 feet of line.  Luckily a man in a rigid-inflatable motorboat came and towed me to my slip.  It was embarrassing being so stranded just days after I had boasted in my engine less skills.  I still don't want to rely solely on the engine, but I should probably put it in.  It has kind of shattered a lot of my enthusiasm, but I can't let one bad learning day get me down.  I guess I need to get back up on the proverbial horse.

Snooty people and stormy seas

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

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

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

Sailing solo

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

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

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

Independence!

Happy belated 4th of July everybody!
I'm going to try and not gripe about the lengthy (and quite amazing) blog post I just wrote over the course of about 45 minutes only to have it deleted and sent off into Cyberspace!
Here in Sheboygan they go all out to celebrate out Nation's independence.  They have a big run/walk in the morning, some military airplanes fly over downtown, there's a parade all morning, they have a cardboard boat race in the river, there are bonfires down on the beach, and of course they have awesome fireworks at nightfall.
I had Spencer come down at 7:30 to help me put up the sails and cast off.  All went without a hitch.  (He did have to run forward to kick the bow away from another boat we almost collided with as we were waiting to build up some speed).  I was so happy to actually pull away from land and be sailing on my very own boat.  After all the waiting, working, paying, and worrying; I was finally out sailing! 

I was amazed at how well she moved despite the light air and being very heavy boat with small sails.  The wind was just at the perfect angle so we could head out of the harbor and sail over to the beach.  My boat only draws 3.5 feet of water, so I was able to pull up really close to the beach.  Spencer and I dropped anchor in about 7 feet of crystal clear water.  I could see the ripples in the sand, and the schools of minnows circling in the shade underneath Aequitas. Spencer donned the snorkeling gear to try and snap some pictures of the boat from the water.  Although the air was in the 80's this is still Wisconsin and the water temperature was quite frigid.  I could hardly believe how much he was complaining about the cold and how quickly he scrambled back up on deck.  And this was in a full wetsuit!

  I towed the dinghy along so I could more easily ferry people from ship to shore.  I dropped my brother off on shore so he could go enjoy the festivities, and I rowed back to my little floating home.  The wind had died, so I decided to try out the water for myself.  HOLY COW IT WAS COLD!  I thought Spencer was exaggerating.  I could hardly breathe, and nothing mattered more than getting back to the boat.

I read a chapter in Jessica Watson's book, and then I ran my swim ladder up the mast so I could climb up to the spreaders and take a look around.  The view was worth the effort, but I felt a little uneasy not knowing how much stress the rig could take.

The wind picked up again after I got back down, so I weighed anchor and took off on my own for a little sail.  The Bristol 24 handled beautifully in the wind, I could easily reach both jib sheets, and trimming to the wind was as easy as could be.  After a little while I headed back in for a drink of water and a bathroom break.  I dropped anchor close to shore again, and made sure to let out plenty of line so that the anchor wouldn't get yanked free.  I took time to snap a few pictures as I rowed to shore.

I pulled the dinghy high up on the beach by a couple of boys building a sandcastle.  "Is that your boat?" they asked.  "Why yes. Yes it is" I said in my best yes-am-a-super-hero-and-you-can-grow-up-to-be-like-me-someday voice.  They asked if it would sail off since I left the sails up.  I explained that I had an anchor in the sand; as I spoke the boat swung itself around like a dog chained to a fencepost.

As I made my way across the scorching sand to the bathrooms I decided to take a picture with my cell phone.  I turned around and flipped open my phone just in time to see my boat start to take off on its own.  I was instantly filled with horror as my boat gathered speed and reminded of One-Eyed Willy's ship in The Goonies sailing off into the sunset under its own power.  I ran to the dinghy, shoved off and began rowing like a madman.  I was rowing all out, but I couldn't seem to gain on my little sloop.  She was hundreds of yards off shore and getting closer and closer to the rocky pier with every second.  I prayed that I would be able to catch my boat and avert disaster, but the simple math of the situation was showing that I would be futile in catching my accelerating vessel.  Would it hit the rocks, would it hit some kids, how extensive would the damage be, how did this happen?  My mind was racing with questions, and my arms were quickly tiring from the exertion.  All of a sudden my boat turned towards the beach, she didn't slow at all, but at least now she wasn't going to hit rocks, I was worried that she'd hit some kids and I'd be in a whole ton of trouble for leaving the boat unattended.  Miraculously Aequitas ran aground on a sand bar and came to a full stop.  I caught up and scolded my boat for her bad behavior.  Luckily it was shallow enough that I could just turn the boat around and push her off.  It was surprisingly easy to get her unstuck seeing as she weighs a portly 6,000 pounds.  I'm loving the design of the Bristol 24 more and more by now.

Apparently the swinging motion had sawed through the anchor rode and now my new anchor and several feet of chain were sitting somewhere on the bottom of the lake.  The water was clear, and I had the kids' sandcastle as a landmark, so I spent the next half hour criss-crossing the area I thought the anchor would be at looking for the telltale signs of the scratches the chain would have left in the sand, or the silver gleam of the anchor.  Back and forth, spiral, over and over with no result.  If I didn't find the anchor then I would have to stay on the boat all day, or beach it every time I wanted to get people aboard. 

Spencer swam out and commandeered the dinghy to go pick up my friend Stephanie and bring her aboard.  We commenced the search and within 7 minutes I saw a grey fin protruding from the sandy bottom with no chain in sight.  We made a wide sweeping turn (about the only choice in a Bristol) to make another pass.  Considering the difficulty of finding the anchor the first time I wasn't sure if I'd get a second shot.  As soon as I caught a glimpse of it again I spilled the sails and handed the tiller over to Stephanie and instructed her to keep sailing in circles.  Before I could even check if she knew how I dove over the side towards the lost artifact a little more than a fathom below.  The water hadn't warmed up much, and this time I had no wetsuit to insulate me, but the excitement of finally finding my lost property cancelled out the cold.  I made my way through the clear waters and began pulling up the anchor and the chain with it.  It must have weighed over 50 pounds, and since I couldn't tread water with that much weight I just walked along the bottom, popping up for air every now and then.  Eventually I got within reach of my boat, but the problem then was that Aequitas was still moving too fast and if Stephanie couldn't maneuver it closer I might miss it all together.  I dove one more time and kicked hard off the sandy bottom propelling myself just high enough out of the water to grasp the side with one hand.  I handed the anchor to Steph and then clambered on deck to rest a bit.

After the excitement I had more friends on board.  My family came out as well.  My nephew, Noah, was a little bit angry at first cause he couldn't swim, but then we had a grand ole' time touching the marker buoy, diving off, and soaking up the plentiful sunshine.

 

To wrap it all up I had friends out on the boat and we watched the fireworks as we sailed slowly and silently out around the pier.  As the fireworks died down and all the motor boats headed in we were left alone under a starry sky with nothing to disrupt the peace but the sound of the dinghy being pulled along behind like a somewhat reluctant toddler.  We made it in safe and sound under sail, and the girls helped fold the sails.  All in all the boat was out of the slip for about 16 hours.  It was the perfect day.

Venetian night

I decided it was about time I got my rig fixed, I couldn't stand to see the mast so lopsided.  Apart from having nightmares that the rig was going to come toppling down in the middle of the night, I always felt like the boat was really top heavy; she was very reluctant to come back to center after I stepped on one side of the deck.  I replaced the rickety bolts with some shackles rated to 1,000 pounds, and 1,500 pounds.  I'm still not sure if those are strong enough.  I'd feel safer if they were rater to 5,000 pounds, but then again I really don't have a firm grasp on just how much pressure the sails create on the rig.  I just hear so many horror stories that I figure I would rather be safe than sorry.


My niece helped make sure the bow pulpit was sturdy.

 After setting the rig the boat felt much more normal, like a boat should.  I put the sails up for the first time just to check that they fit.  The main seemed a bit short, and the jib is cut really high, but as long as it works then I won't complain.

The weather was so nice and warm.  I met up with my friend, Sarah, and we walked over to the riverfront to watch the Venetian Nights boat parade.  Boat owners from around the area go all out decorating their boats with all manner of lights and sounds so they can cruise up and down the river showing off for the city.  One guy even had a man up in a crow's nest like on a pirate ship!

Afterwards we went to a bonfire for a short time.  There's nothing better than boats and bonfires in the summer time.  This is when I love Sheboygan!