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.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)