Vacation Time

My boat is back in the water and ready for action.  I have gone from having a mooring in Milwaukee to a mooring in Oconto.  It is a little over an hour north of me, but it's still close enough that I can get out for a good sail if I have the day off.
I was planning on selling the boat because...well, that's what I do.  Posting it online was all too easy.  Adding pictures to the ebay listing, or the ad on craigslist made me nitpick and see all of the imperfections that I realized would make her difficult to sell.  One day I decided to head up and make sure nothing had been damaged over the winter months.  I hadn't been on my boat since October, and here I was well into June before making my first visit.  As soon as I saw my Glander Cay, I began to have reservations about selling her.  Instantly upon stepping aboard I realized that I didn't want anyone else to have her.  I had gotten such a good deal on a boat that not many would appreciate, and up to that point in the year, all I could think of was dollar signs.  Once I saw the potential again first hand, I pretty much decided that I'd hang onto her until I was offered six times what I paid for her, or until she was not longer fit to sail.  A good solid hull that is as well traveled as this one is not usually cheap.  Anyway.
The mooring was fairly inexpensive, and it meant that I could get out on the Bay much quicker because I wouldn't have to motor down the river all the way from Hi-Seas Marina.  It also meant that I had to find a way to get out to my boat without a dock.  Previously it had been warm, and I was accustomed to placing my clothes in a drybag, and swimming out to my boat.  The first time I had done this was the night I tied her to the new mooring.  I had motored the mile or so from the marina to the mooring, tied off, and tidied up a bit.  To get to shore I swam, fought through the reeds and lily pads, then changed back into my clothes in a nearby restroom.  The bright green drybag I had picked up with my Cabela's gift card did wonderfully.  My clothes were still bone dry.  I began my hike back in the rain down the dark county road.  I made it most of the way there before getting picked up by a kind man in a Ford Ranger.  The interior of his truck suggested that he was a chain smoker.  He explained to me that he was just doing his second good deed for the day.
Fast forward to now.  I found out that I get a week's paid vacation because I have been at my current job for over a year.  Time off being like money in my pocket burning to be used up, I took the first available week in September to do a cruise.  I wanted to take advantage of what little "warm" weather we have left.  Wisconsin has been insufferably cold and wet this summer, and I had a feeling that sailing in October again would not be nearly as pleasant as last year.
The plan is to leave on Monday, sail up through the Green Bay, and stop at islands along the way.  Chamber's island is about 6 hours away from Oconto.  Washington Island is another 6 north of that.  After sleeping on one of these little beauties, I will get to go up and explore Rock Island, St. Martins Island, Plum Island, Poverty Island, and many others.  The area is known as Death's Door, or Porte Des Morts by the French.  After studying the cruising charts I can begin to see why there are over 250 shipwrecks in such a small area.  The Niagara Escarpment (the rock the giant falls are carved out of) extends past the tip of the peninsula and occasionally juts up into an island.  There are multitudes of rocky shoals near the islands.  The depth quickly goes from 100' to 3' in some areas.  I'm sure I'll be glad to have such a shallow draft boat designed for island hopping.

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.

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.

It's been a while.

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

My First Post

Alright, so this is my first post of my new blog.  I'll try to keep it current and be accurate with everything.  This is going to be one way that I keep track of where I travel to, how I get there, and what happens along the way.  I have big plans for the future, and like many people I'm starting off small and cheap.  I've always loved boats, and after reading a few National Geographic magazines when I was younger I decided that I wanted to travel to the Galapagos Archipelago.  This must have been when I was 12.  I later became interested in Sailboats.  In the town of Sheboygan, WI there is a pretty good maritime community.  I used to spend hours sitting on the pier watching the boats go by.  I wished that I could be out there.  I was under the impression that I needed to get a 40 foot boat at the bare minimum or I'd be going nowhere. I had no money, and no clue how I was going to get into sailing.  But I read all that I could on the subject.
In my junior year of High School I was introduced to Sea Scouts.  This is a great organization and an amazing way to use other peoples boats to gain experience.  I was hooked for life.  I spent as much time as I could spare sailing and working on the boats. Anyway, to cut to the chase... I moved around a lot.  I've always had a love of travel.  Growing up I rarely stayed in the same house (or city for that matter) longer than 3 years.  And after moving back to Sheboygan I decided to take my desires for adventure and travel up a notch and actually buy a boat.  After lots of research I determined what type of boat would suit my needs for blue water cruising best, and then examined my budget and found something that fit both criteria. 
I inspected a couple of boats and decided on a 1970 Bristol 24 that I found on Craigslist.com and Boats.com  I'll explain more of the pros and cons of her in a later entry. 
My plan is to fix her up over the winter, and be ready for a trip next summer.  I'd like to be in the water by May 24th. (My 23rd Birthday).  And then I plan to sail out the Great Lakes Chain, across to Ireland (the land of my heritage), then over to Wales and England (where I served as an LDS missionary for 2 years), then over to France and Spain.  I intend to hit the Azores on the way home, and then work on completing bigger trips.  Anyone that wants to sponsor my endeavors, or would like to know more, feel free.
Thanks!