Cruising for the first time

Well, this is what she looks like on paper.

I got the opportunity to take the new boat out sailing a few times with family members, but it was only a couple of little day sailing outings.  What I really wanted to do was put some miles under her keel and travel.  I knew I'd have to wait a while, but as I've said before, I'm impatient.
The Glander Cay was out on a mooring in the South Shore Yacht Club in Milwaukee.  A mooring is nice because it means I'm less likely to hit another boat in my marina maneuvers.  It's not quite as convenient as a dock because I can't just walk out to the boat, I have to row out.  In one of my less intelligent decisions, I sold my 8' rowing dinghy (since I had no immediate use for it) and so now I had to resort to a small inflatable raft to paddle out to my new boat.  It's not so much the physical effort I dislike, but it's the fact that I know I look like a landlubber fool cranking his $15 Walmart blow up boat out to his craigslist find sailboat. Appearances aside, I was glad I wasn't swimming.  Lake Michigan is never warm, but as you get later and later in the year, hypothermia becomes more and more of a commonplace term.
One day of no particular significance I decided to go sailing after work.  Work for me gets over at 8:00 at night.  I worked about 45 minutes away from the yacht club.  Combining the travel time and the time it took to blow up the raft, and paddle out to the Glander, and get her ready meant that I wasn't really pulling away from land too much before 10:30 at night.  The spartan trimmings of my new boat meant that she was not equipped with adequate navigational lights to venture out past sunset.  I had to resort to the portable lights that I had clipped onto my Bristol; it is a crude way of getting by, but a way nonetheless.  Not having enough time to stop back at home, or the foresight to bring a spare change of clothes left me sailing solo out of Milwaukee under full cover of night in dress shoes, slacks, and a polo shirt with my name one it.  Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't reconsider some of my life decisions.
Getting the sails set all by my lonesome was somewhat more difficult than it had been on my Bristol.  The Glander had two headsails vs. the one I was accustomed to , and they were both attached at the mid and end point of a six foot long bowsprit.  There is no netting to catch me if I slip off the bowsprit, no hand rail to steady myself against, and no one to notice if I fell in.  Luckily I have always fancied myself to be a bit of a waterman and I'm not afraid to trust my cozy dry clothes to all the balance that I can muster out of my butt cheeks.  I sat balanced precariously over the black water as I clipped each of the old bronze hasps to the forestay, and double checked that I had run the halyards properly.  Once the Jib (front sail) was set, I moved back to the deck and set about attaching the staysail (sail behind the jib, but in front of the mast).  Once both headsails were good to go I turned on the outboard motor, dropped the mooring lines and eased out of the harbor in relative silence.

This is what she looks like in daylight

Milwaukee has an amazing skyline from the water; its glow can be seen for many miles away.  I had been sailing for about three hours when I realized that the wind was really not helping me progress northwards at all.  I was trying to get home by the next morning so I could show my family the new boat, and as much as I tried with tacking, it didn't seem that I'd get there any time soon unless I cheated.  Around 2:00 in the morning I decided to motor sail.  Cranking up the motor and relying on the sails, I was able to make about 6 knots heading in the right direction.  On the one hand, I felt bad using the motor, on the other hand, it was nice to know I wasn't going to get stranded and miss a few days of work.

As the hours wore on, I played with the trim of the motor and the tiller to try and get her to track straight on her own, but with the outboard being off center, and the wind blowing, this task proved impossible.  I tried taking some pictures with my phone, but was unable until the sun came up.  Late into the night I kept myself awake by singing my own karaoke songs as loud as I could, and by reenacting the entire first Pirates of the Caribbean movie.  I'm not ashamed that I know all the lines by heart, or that my Elizabeth Swann sounds pretty dang convincing.  

As the first light of day started to creep over the horizon, the sky turned a brilliant contrast of burnt orange and teal.  There wasn't a cloud in sight but for the first time in hours I could make out the coastline.  I had sailed much further offshore than I had originally anticipated, and I knew it would take another two hours of just east to west travelling to make it into the port at Sheboygan.  No sooner did I start heading for shore than I came within three feet of an ominous buoy protruding from the surface of the water.  Based on my knowledge of the area, I think it was a marker for a shipwreck.  I would love to dive on a wreck sometime, but I have no interest in creating one of my own.  I stayed offshore a bit in case it was marking a reef.  Even though the Glander only draws 3' of water, I'd rather not take any risks.

After 13 hours of motoring I made it from Milwaukee to Sheboygan.  I found that the city maintains a small courtesy dock in the river for transient boaters such as myself who only need to tie up for a few hours.  Seeing as most of the boats were out of the water for the season, I thought it unlikely that I would be taking anyone's spot.  My cell phone had died, and since my family had no idea of when or where to expect me, I had to walk home.  The two or three miles seemed an eternity.  My legs were set in sea mode.  I had stood most of the journey to keep from falling asleep, and that combined with the fact that I had been awake for 30 hours meant that I was a cross between a zombie and a drunk ad I trudged home.  Standing in the shower on dry land proved to be more difficult than urinating off the side of the boat out on the waves.  Land sickness is a funny thing.  Help me get across the pond.

All hauled out

The sky was still dark at 5:30 when my alarm went off.  I awoke to find that I still had my jeans and t-shirt on from the night before.  I hastily crammed down a pop-tart and hopped up into my lifted Jeep Cherokee.  Down at the Marina I met up with Mark shortly after fumbling with he keys in the creaky gate.  It was only 6 hours prior that we had dropped the mast on my Bristol 24.
Dropping the mast was a stressful proposition as raising it had been a nightmare both times.  The mast was old heavy aluminum, and the forces being exerted combined with the leverage placed on all the components worried me.  I rigged up the boom to act as a lever arm, and used the main sheet to do all the work of lowering it.  I also ran a precautionary line from the back stay to the stern rail just to be safe.  We had another couple people helping out, but in the end the mast lowered very slowly and smoothly.  It was as uneventful as I could have hoped for. 

After saying goodbye to everyone and tidying up I took a moment to pause in the companionway hatch to think about my boat.  It had been almost a year ago that I had bought it.  She had come a long way.  There are a lot of cosmetic problems that I fixed, and some that I inflicted over my ownership of her.  I had traveled over a hundred miles aboard her over the course of the summer.  It wasn't quite as grand as I had planned, but there are times when you just need to take a step back and re-evaluate what's going on.  My trip to Manitowoc had been my final sail.  Had I known I may have carried it out with a bit more fanfare, but still it seemed a fitting time to say goodbye to my boat.  It wasn't just the last sail of the season, but the last I would ever have on her.  I'm thankful she sold so quickly, so I wouldn't have time to change my mind.  Still I'd like to get her cleaned up for the next owner.
Mark helped steer while I rowed my 8 foot pram dinghy.  The key to effectively pulling such a heavy boat by such primitive means is to use a very long line to absorb the shock as you row.  We were making probably a knot-an-a-half over toward the boat ramp.  We tied up and I ran errands until the moving company came to pull her out. 
The big semi trailer backed down the boat ramp and easily slid Aequitas up out of the water.  I had forgotten how pretty she looked when you could see all of her.  Admittedly she needed some cleaning.  Algae had grown on the one side exposed to the sun, and I could see the chunk of fiberglass that had been taken out of the bow from that fateful failed voyage with the Bradings. 
After the stands were in place on the old road I went to work cleaning off the slime.  I only had one sponge and no water to use, so it kind of just mixed in with the paint, and has since flaked off into a very unattractive finish.  I intend to patch up the bow, scrub off the flakes, and if I can get around to it, apply some more varnish to the woodwork.  I want the next owners to have as little reason for remorse as possible.  She is after all a strong seaworthy boat, I just can't give her the life she deserves right now.  I daresay I'm leaving her better than I found her though.  She got to get out on the water and ride around happily on the waves.  I'm sure it won't be long before she's back out there, reunited with one of her previous owners.  I am still quite anxious to find if he has any information into her history.

Moving on at summer's end

Sorry it's been so long since I've written anything.  It is more an indication that there is a lot going on in my life, not that there's nothing to report.   After my week of solid sailing, I had an off week where I did almost no sailing at all.  I need to keep in mind that this blog is about more than just sailing.  So I guess we will find out together that there is more to life.  One Monday I was sitting at work and I realized that I only had three or four weeks before my boat had to be out of the water.  The temperature here has already started to drop at the rate of about 10 degrees per month.  It may not seem like much, but the first few mornings when I awoke to 50 degrees on the thermometer were not fun.  Anyway, as I was sitting contemplating what to do with my remaining time I couldn't help thinking of how much I still wanted to sail to another city, at least once this summer.  After a quick scan of the weather report I called two of my brothers and set up a voyage for that night.  It was to be the last full moon of the sailing season, and the wind looked to be pretty strong.  There are two cities equidistant from Sheboygan, one North and one South.  I intended to go to Port Washington which lies to the south about 25 miles away.
We met up at my Mom's house and made a last minute run to the store to pick up beef jerky and granola bars.  Down at the marina the 20+ MPH winds were making it very difficult to raise the sails.  I made the call to reef the main and not put up the jib just yet.  We shoved off of the dock easily enough, but since the wind was blowing strong directly out of the south I had to tack to get out of the harbor.  Reefing in the main had changed the shape of the sail a bit and made it impossible to point as high into the wind as I needed to to get out.  Spencer had the brilliant idea to drop anchor while we sorted it out.  Yes we did get blown up against the rocks again, and we did in the end have to fend off the massive racing yacht moored innocently to her T-dock, but shhh! don't tell anyone.  There was no damage done to either vessel, unless you count leaving a small footprint sized smudge in the wax coat as damage. 
A nice guy in his tiny aluminum fishing boat came up and offered to help tow.  We had to drop sail while he revved the little engine to its limits.  Spencer hurt his hand trying to hold the rope instead of tying it off.  I was glad that he actually helped us out of the harbor, and not just back to the dock, and I was amazed that his little outboard could pull my 6,000 pound boat against such a fierce wind.
Eventually we were let loose out in the harbor back lit by a brilliant full moon.  We sped past the lighthouse and were half a mile out in the lake before we got the main lashed back onto the boom.  It was far too windy out there to use both sails.  I tried heading up into the wind, but it was impossible using just the jib. We called mom and let her know that we would be heading North to Manitowoc instead of Port Washington, that way at least if we were lost at sea someone would know where to look for us.
The GPS showed us making awesome progress, and it wasn't until 4 in the morning that the wind actually began to shift and die a bit.  I had to wake my crew up to help raise the main, and then they went back to sleep.  I think Spencer slept most of the trip.  The rollers would chase us down and pass under the stern while the dinghy kept trying to surf and slam into the boat.  I let both of my brothers take turns at the helm.  It was much nicer having a crew that was more confident at steering so I could get a better quality catnap.  The wind had blown us pretty far offshore; we had about 7 miles to make up getting back in to Manitowoc.  We were all exhausted and at about 7 in the morning we decided to just drop anchor off of a beach and sleep there rather than trying to make it into the harbor.  I didn't want to have to radio anyone or pay any fees.  We threw out both anchors in about 7 feet of water.  The waves slammed us about a bit, and the wind kept howling through the bare rigging as I tried to rest.  In the end I had to go up on deck, stow the sails better, and bring in the main anchor because the chain was just too loud for me in the foreword cabin.  I slept till around 10:30, bailed out the dinghy, and gave my brothers a rude awakening when I had the jib set and called for them to come bring in the anchor.  It was the first and only time we ever had to use the windlass.  I had let out about 60 feet of line, and the 20 pound anchor had dug itself well into the sand.  Finally we cranked it in and swung around back for home.  We never stepped foot in Manitowoc that day, but we were only a couple hundred yards away from their lighthouse, so it still counts.
As we cruised past a the inlets for a power plant several cormorants took flights and began their daily dive for meals.  The scenery was gorgeous.  We stayed close to the shore so we could see better details of the houses and golf courses that we sailed past.  There were no other boats in sight, and there seemed to be a profound silence on land for the first few hours.  We dispelled this by blasting whatever was loaded onto the iPod on board.  I must say that it was a rather eclectic collection of tunes, but luckily the tiny speakers couldn't reach far enough to bother anyone not on my boat...  Perhaps out off-key singing of Styx: Come Sail Away would have though.
We got home at about 5 in the evening to find my younger brother, Liam, waiting at the dock with his surfboard.  Spencer left after helping to stow the sails; Max and I went to watch Liam surf for a bit.  He did quite well for a rookie on tiny waves.  I was unsteady on my feet for a few hours as I got used to dry land again.  I can't remember much more, other than that I was really hungry when we got home.  It was a great cruise, I learned more.  It was a bit more enjoyable, but sailing is not the quickest way to get anywhere.  I am becoming more and more aware that the boat I have may not be the best one for what I need in my life right now.
I have finally decided to stop putting it off and head to college.  Maybe I needed this summer to see what type of sailing I really do like; what type of boat will I really use, or if I am really up to the lofty goals I have set.  I do fully believe that a Bristol 24 could carry someone across the Atlantic comfortably, I just don't think I have the time or resources right now to pursue that goal, and rather than sink any more money into Aequitas I think I will travel by plane and by foot, by train and by car for a while.  I have put my boat up for sale on the Internet and will hope to recoup some of the costs so that I may fund my education, and perhaps some of my travels.  It is a bittersweet feeling.  They say that the two happiest days in a sailor's life are the day he buys his boat, and the day he finally sells it.  Maybe I just need to get a little trailer-sailor so I can haul it with me wherever I may go and take advantage of both coasts and inland lakes without needing professional transport or a huge truck.
It is sad though knowing that the trip to Manitowoc was my last time sailing her.  I have been sleeping on the couch at my mom's house for a couple weeks now because it's gotten too cold in the marina.  I'll miss her when she's gone, and if she doesn't sell, I won't mind if she sticks around for a few years so at some later date I may revisit my dreams of cruising. 
I will still endeavor to maintain this blog of any other travels I do.  Thanks for reading!

Conquering

As soon as I got done with my blog post yesterday I thought about how nervous I had been about sailing since I have so many mishaps.  I realized that I was letting my fear of failure keep me in the harbor on a day that could turn out to be a beautiful day.  I didn't want to let my anxiety keep me from doing something I love.  I didn't want to crash into the pier again, but I wasn't gonna sit on land if I could possibly be out on the water.
After I left the library I drove straight to the marina, threw off the mooring lines, flipped my boat around, raised the main, and headed out.  No collisions, no close calls.  I didn't even really have to tack to get out of the harbor.  Getting out is the hard part, and once that was out of the way it was easy.  I called Dani so she could come sailing after all; but since I told her the weather was going to be too bad, she had already made other plans.  I sailed off alone.
The wind was pretty strong, coming out of the south, and it took me a couple minutes to set the jib, but once both sails were up I was cruising along at a pretty good pace just enjoying life.  My brother, Spencer, called to see if he and his friend, Seth, could come sailing too. I could see a few people starting to get out their paddle boards and surf boards.  There were pretty good waves for once, usually the lake doesn't kick up cresting waves close to shore.  I dropped anchor just outside of the heavy impact zone for the waves and began to get the dinghy ready.  Aequitas was still jumping up and down quite a bit on the waves so getting into the little 8 foot boat was somewhat challenging.  I surfed on a couple waves as I got closer to shore, but just as I was about to get out and walk the rest of the way a huge wave broke over the stern and filled the dinghy halfway with water and sand.
Getting in was the easy part.  I almost got swamped with just me in the boat.  Now we were cramming two more people in and trying to fight against the waves.  It was a pretty hairy situation, but very fun.  We had to lean one way to avoid the waves, and then counter balance to keep water from lapping up over the gunwales.  I had to push the boat past the breakers before I could climb up and start rowing.  In the end we had a glorious sail and I'm really glad I went.
A life lived in fear is a life half lived.

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.

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.

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!

No wind = frustration

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

A few things of note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snooty people and stormy seas

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

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

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

Sailing solo

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

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

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

Independence!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Venetian night

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


My niece helped make sure the bow pulpit was sturdy.

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

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

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

Third time's a charm... almost.

I ordered some vinyl graphics for the name and port of call for my boat.  I specifically ordered curved ones and paid about $75 for the whole order.  When they arrived the name graphics were straight across and distorted.  I called up the place: www.boatletteringtoyou.com, told them about the problem and they shipped new ones out straightaway the same day.  Everyone makes mistakes, and I was glad that they took car of it in a timely manner.

After receiving the proper graphic stick-ons, I went down after work and bailed the water out of my little dinghy (it was more than half full this time, but still floating) and tied onto the transom of Aequitas while I taped and measured the layout.  I re-taped and re-measured quite a few times.  Every time I thought I had gotten it just right I would shove off and row back to take a look and make sure everything was level and centered.  After I knew what needed to be changed I would row back up to the boat, tie on, and get back to work.  It was a bit difficult because the little dinghy kept trying to float away every time I pushed against the stickers.  Eventually I was satisfied and stuck them on permanently.  Then I had to do the process all over again with the bigger graphics for the name, but now it's done and I'm very pleased with the outcome.  It may not be laser level, and centered perfectly with a micrometer, but for floating in a little boat at night, I'd say I did pretty well.

Saturday they weather was very nice so I went about calling and texting everyone I could think of to come help put the mast up.  Anyone that had helped last time had been scared off by the considerable amount of physical effort required.  In the end I got my brother, Spencer, and by brother in-law, John, to come down and help.  I got everything squared away, and my neighbor who had helped raise the mast last time, (and who measured the gap between the old shrouds and the chainplates) came along and rounded up volunteers from the dock for me.  It was great to have 8 or 9 people chipping in, I don't know how I would have done it without them.

I did get the boom rigged up to act as a lever, then we used halyards to steady the mast.  With that many people it went up rather easily.  The forestay fit just fine, the backstay I knew was gonna be short, so I was prepared with some length of chain to fill the gap.  Then we ran into the problem.  My shrouds that were 16" too short were now 5" too long!  The turnbuckles couldn't compress down that much, and so we had to kind of jury rig the port side while the starboard side was just cranked down super tight.  So it's not very sold, and the mast is listing to port.  The thing that frustrates me is that I need to spend MORE money on getting this rig done.  It'll all be worth it in the end, but the end (when my boat is all ready to go) keeps getting pushed farther away.

It was fun to have my little nephews running around playing pirates again on the boat.  I can't wait to actually take them sailing.

Sunday I decided to redo the bolts through the turnbuckles just to be safe.  When I was going to bed I noticed that the mast was slopping around back and forth a lot.  It made me kinda edgy.  Just as I was drifting off to sleep I heard this loud slapping sound.  My mind yanked out of sleep mode and I pictured a turnbuckle breaking free, and the mast toppling onto someone elses boat.  I'm glad I have insurance, but I don't want to have to make a claim just yet.  I got up and checked, but all was well.  As I drifted off to sleep again I heard the noise.  I decided to stay awake (or at least try to) so I could determine the source of the sound.  After the third time I remembered that we have quite a few very large carp fish in the harbor that are in full swing for mating season.  They chase each other under the docks, wrestle around on the surface a lot, and generally slam into boats as they do their business.  These fish are about as big as my niece, so when they slam into a dock or your boat it makes a bit of a ruckus.  (years from now she'll look back at this and think I was calling her fat...She's a baby!)

Satisfied that the noises were just aquatic procreation I decided I could sleep.  A couple hours later the wind picked up and there were more noises.  My mind gets very paranoid at 2:30 in the morning.  As it runs out it was just the flag on my neighbor's boat slapping against the mast. 

Today we're scheduled for severe thunderstorms and damaging winds, so I guess we'll see how well the rig holds up while I try and get a rigger to come down and fix my problems.