Leaky Daggerboard Trunk and Other Rites of Passage

First outing was about ten minutes on Typo Lake, where we discovered a small leak in the daggerboard trunk. It sounds like most suffer from this to begin with as the trunk is prone to jostle and the layer of bedding compound is very thin and narrow. Think it's coming up around the bedlogs mostly. Jammed it somewhat by sealing up the underside of the daggerboard socket with duct tape, dusting the leaky areas with wood putty powder and then throwing in some water, allowing it to leak in.

Second outing was on White Bear Lake, where we discovered the oars were in bad need of wrapping and the middle seat snapped under the rower's weight (half suspected this would happen as we routed the hole for the daggerboard a bit too long.) Wrapped the oars with 1/4" rope with a manila cap, cut a new seat and added a cedar support block in the middle to support the rower's weight.

Third test was on Martin Lake. Ended up seizing the halyard and boom to the mast when underway and not sailing to prevent it from draping across the boat and getting in the way. Rowing was much better, but the daggerboard got jammed on some of the resin we'd aplied, so the total sailing portion of the voyage was about fifteen minutes give or take as we made signifant leeway. Planning on sealing the inside of the boat with 5800 marine sealant, and then sanding down the inside of the trunk and sealing it up with resin now that I have a better idea where the leak is coming from. May use blocks of the soft packing foam to really apply pressure to get the epoxy in there and apply two layers, really getting it good and solid before sanding it down. May have a proper workflow down by mid-Fall.

High Winds

Well, not really high. Likely around 8-11 mph steady with gusts of up to 20 Saturday. Reefed the main and gave the storm jib a try. Gave a very interesting look to the Springtide as it's not really a jib at all, but more of a small trysail with about 1/4 the regular jib's power. Made managing the boat through the gusts possible if not entirely comfortable. Returned to port with a rather sore tiller arm.

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.

Winging It

Goosewinging it (please ignore the unflemished bowline on deck)

First time we've ever gotten the Springtide to run goosewinged for any period of time (5-10 minutes before the wind shifted and we got an accidental jibe). They call it 'goosewinged' because the jib hangs off one side of the vessel and the main over the other, makes the sails (in some historical sailor's opinion) look like the wings of a goose coming in for a landing.

Why would you want to goosewing? Well, compare your average fore-and-aft rigged vessel (your average sailboat) to your old-timey square-rigger (think Master and Commander or Pirates of the Carribean). The purpose of your standard square-rigger's rectangular sails was to harness the pushing power of the wind. The purpose of your fore-and-aft rigged triangular sail is to generate lift (like a wing), pulling you along the water. This gives fore-and-aft riggers the power to sail close to (into) the wind.

Think of it like a knife (meant to cut) compared to a ladel (meant to scoop.)

While the fore-and-aft rigger (most square-riggers carried at least some triangular sails), can sail into the wind, the moment you head downwind you abandon wind-generated lift for wind-generated push, something triangles don't harness quite as well as square sails do. This is especially difficult as the mainsail generally blocks at least some of the wind from the jib.

This is where goosewinging comes in. By pushing one sail off the starboard beam and another off the larboard, you maximize the available sail area, helping the boat run a bit more smoothly downwind. Best thing you can do downwind unless you have a spinnaker (large jib-like sail) on hand.

Hot and humid this weekend. Loads of threatening clouds, but not a drop of rain this morning. Flocks of Canadian Geese seen on the lake, along with a few Cormorants.

Jargon

While the concept of organizing a work stoppage to bring about reform has been around since Biblical times, the term "strike" originated in the 1700's, when sailors from Sunderland "struck", or removed, their topgallants, thus preventing their ships from going to sea. Or take the end of a cable, most notably the rode of an anchor, tied around a bitt (or post/capstan etc) on board the ship. This was commonly referred to as the bitter end, and when you reached it it's the end; there's no rope left. Also take sayings like "cut him/her a little slack", "learn the ropes", "three sheets to the wind", or "by the board" -- all nautical in origin.

This is just a minor and cursory glimpse, but it's pretty obvious that nautical jargon has had a sizeable impact on the English language. It does follow logically, of course; our language is British in origin, and Britain is an island. An island must depend on its fleet for its defense, its food, its global standing -- its identity-- far more than a mainland country like France or Germany would.

Our English-speaking forebears spent over a thousand years at sea, and the sea shaped their language as sure as their coastline. So what about technology? Have computers, and the IT field in general, shaped our language in a lasting way? Well, they've shaped our language; you now have "IM's", "texts", and even (blech) "tweets". You have marketing jargon like "net-centric", "cloud computing", and "web 2.0", though I'm not certain that the people who coined these terms were entirely sure of what they meant. Cyberese, with its lack of vowels and emotive punctuation is its own form of pidgen.

You have a slew of terms that have been invented for or around particular technologies or fads, but I don't know that they'll last six years, let alone six hundred. I suppose that, as technology improves and matures and the latest pop fads eventually even themselves out into a slow progression, only time will tell whether machines will have the same influence that our elegant sailing vessels once did.

The Weekend's Sail

Discreditable bit of action. Took it out for about an hour and a half on Lake Edna. Setup and takedown were much faster; about 45 minutes a piece, but while running we nearly hit a sandbar. As a precaution, I pulled up the swinging keel, only to have it get jammed on its own pendant (rope), and could only work this loose while it was on the trailer. Couple that with the wake and noise factor of Lake Edna being chock full of boats and jet skis over the holiday weekend.

Jibed (swung the boom from one side of the boat to the other) several times while running as the wind, which there was barely any of on Saturday, changed direction. While jibing can be a handy way to change your bearing, it does put extra wear&tear on the sheets and hardware, and can be potentially dangerous for any crew or passengers in the way of the boom (there's a reason they call it a "boom" after all).

She does have a name at last; the Springtide; the term for the strongest tides of the lunar cycle -- occurring at either a full or new moon.

Bower Anchor

Many modern boats carry two anchors; a bower and a kedge. A bower, like the one seen above, is typically the meatier of the two, while the kedge is often an anchor used for stability or maneuvering. In the case of maneuvering or as 'kedging' or 'warping' as it was sometimes called, a boat would be lowered from the main vessel with the anchor, which was dropped some distance away. The crew aboard the main vessel would then ply the capstan, and the rode (cable attached to the anchor) would be haulled in, pulling the vessel in the direction of the anchor. This technique could be used to safely manuever through crowded harbors, progress through doldrums, angle the vessel to gain some tactical advantage in combat, or to dislodge a vessel that has run aground.

Kedging is still used in modern times; though with the advent of the engine for manuevering, it is normally only used to dislodge smaller vessels that have run aground. Boats too small to carry a dinghy (like ours) would usually do this by having one of its crew jump out and pull the anchor (usually floated on a life vest) far enough out to drop. Our kedge is a slightly smaller anchor I used to use on our rowboat.

The anchor seen above is a fluke or danforth design weighing about 40 lbs. The hinged flukes at the crown of the anchor dig into the seabed, and once imbeded can provide an enormous amount of resistance. They're also fairly compact and easy to stow.