Weather Helm

Though the skies were overcast and at times downright threatening, we met the SE gusts of up to 18mph with a stiffly reefed mainsail, pushing the Springtide up to 6 knots as we flew back from Gooseberry Island; a decent speed in a vessel her size. Had the family leaning over the weather gunwale to reduce heeling.

Spotted several mergansers and a loon.

Finally Out

Went to launch the boat when the docks opened May 1st. While there were spots of sun throughout the day, it rained torrents while we were launching, and I took shelter in the cabin while everyone else ran back to the truck. Good news is that there aren't any leaks this year.

Got the boat in the water, and it wouldn't come off the trailer. Drove the truck deeper in, still ntohing. Exhaust pipe now in the water, and the boat's still not budging. Pulled it up on to dry land, and on a hunch loosened the swinging keel up with a rubber mallet and tightened the pendant. Sure enough, we were able to pull it up a few more inches -- just enough to swing the boat off the trailer and into the lake.

Where it sat for a week due to extremely cold, damp, and windy (20-30mph) conditions.



Last Saturday around 4 PM, we took it out for its first three-hour tour around the lake. Gusty winds at around 11mph from the NNW made it easy to swing around the Western edge of Gooseberry Island. As we were nearly at a run, the wind seemed to fade, and as the sun peeked out from the clouds, it was almost tolerable.

I took the tiller as we rounded the Eastern edge of Gooseberry, and made a pretty easy close-reached course for the NE shore. It's when we turned back that things got dicey. Clouds rolled in, the wind (now set against us) stirred up whitecaps, and the advent of evening, the temperatures dipped down into the lower 40's. The wind kept swirling from NNW to something more like North, taking the Springtide firmly by the head whenever they did.

Tacking was nearly impossible with the jib up (in retrospect we should have dropped it and raised the centerboard six inches to shift the center of gravity), and whenever we settled on a nice, somewhat comfortable close-haulled course, a stray gust would grab the jib and swing the Springtide about by her head. As the rocky wall of Gooseberry to our lee didn't looked uninviting, we wore twice back to the NE; the opposite direction of the harbor. After taking a zigzag course for around an hour and making very little progress, we finally had to drop sails and run back in under motor power with our spanker between our legs.

Sunday was by far more pleasant. While temperatures hadn't improved much (it had just snowed Friday night), the wind was coming from the SE at about 5 mph and the sun was out, making for a far easier, more pleasant sail. As we were planning on heading back to the cities, we only made a run out to the middle of Gooseberry Island, and then back into the harbor.

Lessons learned:

• Swinging keels provide you the flexibility to traverse shallower waters, while minimizing leeway. That said, when going backwards, the keel has the tendency to jam into objects unless totally stowed, and the pendant has a penchant for jamming at the most innoportune times.
• When running close-hauled under gusty, variable winds, consider dropping the jib and refocusing the center of gravity either by drawing in the swinging keel or having crew shift to weather.
  

Wildlife spotted:

• Great Blue Heron
• Loon
• Sea Gull
• Tern

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.

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.