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.