First Sailing Weekend

Making a Stopper Knot

Overhauled the running rigging and launched the Springtide. Had the lake almost to ourselves this weekend, save for seagulls, great blue and green herons, and a noisy band of terns. Temps in the 40's with winds so light it took us two hours to run as many miles.

The Don't Call it Breezy Point for Nothing!

Had a very educational sail this weekend. As the winds were gusting at around 25, we ran with the storm jib, and got an excellent lesson in leeway as we tried to pass a rock reef (eventually had to wear around and make another pass.) Practiced shifting the crew's weight around during strong gusts. By hiking over the edge of the boat, I was able to shift the weight enough to even it out and take a lot of the strain off the tiller.

With its island and rock reefs, Pelican Lake really is a great lake to learn sailing, and particularly to learn piloting (the art of navigating obstacles and shallows.) We would not be learning as much about piloting on a "blue water sailing" sort of lake like Mille Lacs, though we'd likely have to content with heavier winds and taller waves.

One of the Few Saturdays we've Gotten out this Year

Amazed at Amanda's sailing ability. Though nervous at first, she motored out, took the helm once I raised the sails, steered a close-hauled course around the Western edge of Gooseberry Island, and ran us back in with the wind on her quarter as the thunderheads rolled in. Docked for the first time with no problem.

Saw numerous seagulls, three or four loons, and several terns.

Beautiful day for a sail

Wind was mostly abeam (falling on the side of the ship; what they used to call a soldier's tack,) all the way to Gooseberry, falling slightly on the corner just as we rounded its rocky Eastern edge. Spotted two loons, countless seagulls, and a Bald Eagle being chased by what appeard to be a small flock of blackbirds.

Though there were magnificent storms almost all day Saturday, today the weather was mostly sunny with a few white cumulus ruminating across the sky like fat white heifers.

Got around two and a half decent hours of sailing between storms yesterday. Brought the storm jib, but didn't need it with the winds E-SE between 8-10 MPH. As reccomended in Seidman's The Complete Sailor, hauled the centerboard up about 1/3 when sailing at a beam reach, and making sure the jib channels air to the main when sailing close-haulled.

Saw two sea planes while out, as well as a flock of geese and a hawk nabbing what appeared to be a fish.

Heavy Weather

Weather like this makes a storm sail a solid investment.
Made two attempts to circle Gooseberry Island, both in gusty winds that swirled from the NW to W. The lower part of the circle was fine, even comfortable. Once we attempted to head back to the W we had to tack from NNW to almost straight S. Could bear SW by loosenign up the sheets and spilling wind, but the boat was overpressed with canvas when gusts hit, carrying the head to S or even SE despite the tiller being hard-over. Our only options were to run back around the island and shoot straight N through the channel between Gooseberry and Breezy Point, or complete a long series of NW to S legs.

This is what age-of-sail sailors called "over-presssed," and is why much larger vessels would only carry only staysails in heavy winds. These scraps of heavy canvas were more than enough to keep the ship going at top speed, but not enough to overload the boat, causing it to heel dangerously. A storm jib would be an excellent investment in this case, allowing us to travel much closer to a heavy wind.

Labor Day Traffic

Funny word "traffic". The web crowd thrives on it, commuters resign themselves to it, and sailing and fishing buffs try to avoid it whenever possible. Nothing can be more annoying than a curious jet ski buzzing your boat when you're trying to raise the mainsail, or a ski boat trying to zoom around you as you navigate a narrow channel.

It was an enjoyable weekend, with gusty winds constantly striving to pitch her head to the weather then dropping off and letting her sag to lee (I've learned that it can take a lot of muscle and perseverance to keep the helm steady), but I have to admit the number of boats (it was about as crowded as I've seen Pelican Lake get) were a tad distracting and people often just don't make sense.

For example, call me old-fashioned, or a snob... or God forbid a technophobe, but why would you dash all the money on a hobby vehicle, invest the effort into maintaining it, pour further thousands into docking it up on a lake where you can hear the loons call, only to toss in subwoofers and an unmuffled motor? Is the goal to scream through all that nature, inundating your person with sound until you collapse a lung? Is impressing people with the sheer obnoxiousness your "status symbol" worth permanent hearing damage? If so, couldn't you achieve either of these things more effectively on, say, the Mississippi, the Saint Croix, or any of the lakes closer to home?

The same largely goes for renters. Pontoons are not terribly fast vehicles; I've seen catamarans scream past them and the Springtide could overhaul most of them sailing on a bowline with a good, steady breeze. It's going to take you a minimum of two hours to get around the uppermost bay on Pelican. You've got no bathroom on board, and seats for around ten. Why you would want to load this tub up with twenty or more people and attempt to sail the entire lake is beyond me.

All in all, though, it went well. As Sunday was particularly windy, we got our second go at reefing the sails, which reduced our heel from 50 degrees to a more reasonable 15. The reefing took shorter than it did before, though our reef knots could use some definite work. Though she has a wide beam, righting her if she went over would be tricky with a swinging keel; something I'd rather not have a go at.

Musings on Self-Sufficience

Pelican Lake, courtesy of Google Earth

No pelicans, but loads of loons up on Pelican Lake last weekend. Spent most of it on the water learning to sail on all points -- close-hauled, broad reach, by the beam, by the lee. Finally got the proper hang of the cleat tie, and can stretch a bowline fairly prodigiously now.

Funny to see that the majority of boats out there are either bass boats or pontoons. If you consider the fact that you can circumnavigate the world by plane (with only a few layovers) in a few days; that using Skype you can hear and see someone in India, or using Google Earth visit the pyramids from the comfort of your desk chair, sailing vessels seem terribly obsolete.

But what are we really relying on for these newer means of "travel"? To actually construct a 747 from scratch, you'd need a team of engineers, of mechanics, would need to purchase enormous amounts of raw material, pay a crew of mechanics to maintain it, a pilot or two to fly it, an air traffic tower to tell it where and when it was clear to depart or land. In the end you require thousands of people, loads of raw material, and a regular supply of fuel. Without any one of these elements, you are grounded.

And while most people don't think that connecting via the internet involves anything more complicated than plugging their home computer into the cable modem, consider that, to send an email, you need a constantly operational connection from your computer to your local service hub, likely from your local service hub to one of your ISP's branch routers, from the branch router through a maze of routing devices to your email server (like Hotmail), and an active connection from there to the email server of the person you intend to send to. All of these locations must have power, an active connection to the web, and likely a 24/7 tech staff. Google Earth is even more complicated, involving various servers throughout the world that collect and conglomerate sattelite photography and 3D imaging. Again, lots of people, lots of raw materials, and a major reliance on stable power and lines of communication.

Sailing, in comparison, is relatively simple. One human, given enough time and some very basic materials, could build a sailing craft worthy of circumnavigating the globe. Though it would be a prodigious challenge, he or she could man the craft themselves (alone), and though they might wile away a good amount of time in the doldrums, they could do it without a drop of gasoline. I think that's what makes it so rewarding; you are essentially self-sufficient; freed from many of the technologies we enslave ourselves to in modern society.

Lessons Learned on Pelican Lake

A few things learned during this weekend's outing on Pelican Lake:

• You really only use the motor to sputter around the harbor, through channels, and in dead calms.
• You always want to be sure to have suntan lotion on the boat.
• It's far easier to sail upwind than it is to run with the wind (that is, to have the wind at your back). Your best bet when running downwind is to do so at an angle. This is not only generally faster (even if you have to make more tacks), but makes you less susceptible to accidental jibing.
• People seem to take far more notice of sailboats than, say, pontoons or jetskis.
• Wildlife are the exact opposite. As there's no sound, not even that of oars, you can get much closer to them than you could in even a canoe. We came extremely close to:
• Loons
• Cormorants
• Mergansers
• Mallards
• Green and Great Blue Herons
• (of course) loads of Gulls
• Lake residents and marina members tend to know the rules of the road and show respect; those who rent watercraft from marinas don't. Had two teenage girls in a jet ski buzzing the boat (in a no wake zone) to get a better look while I raised the sails. By the third pass was willing to invest in a 9 lb chaser to help them with their maritime schooling. Seriously parents, tell your spawn what the white-and-orange bouys mean BEFORE you set them loose.
• You will likely use the cleat hitch every day you sail.
• A swinging keel is a great thing in shallow waters.