Ode to a Sailors Wife

It takes a special woman to do what my wife did yesterday. I think I've already mentioned that we've joined the Gig Harbor Sailing club. We are now taking sailing lessons to qualify to check out club boats. My wife is taking the lessons with me, and we had our first two lessons this week - and what a week! The sky's have been sunny and blue, and the wind has been great. But, it has been so cold! Wednesday it was in the very low 40's (like 41 or 42), and yesterday it was more like 38. Add 16mph winds to that and you get a chill. Yet, my wife weathered it all.

Not just any woman, would brave those conditions, but she did. I think she'd rather not go out when it's that cold, but we both enjoyed it.

I'm not a talented writer, but I've written some "poetry" in honor of my lovely wife. The only reason, I'm comfortable posting them here is because I'm pretty sure, no one reads this but me.

LAYERS

I slip on my thermals
and then my itchy wool socks
My sweatpant, and my ski pants
My long sleeved shirt,
My sweatshirt,
My parka,
My gloves,
My stocking hat,
and my sunglasses.
Layers and layers,
take a cross section
and count the rings.

HEELING
It happens in a moment.
My heart races,
I grip the tiller to hold her steady, and
the world tilts.
I lean backwards,brace my heels against the opposite seat,
and stare down into the rushing green water.
This is heeling.

WHY DO I SAIL?
I like sailing,
when it's not windy.
I like the water
when it's not cold.
I like boats,
when they're not heeling.
It's a good activity,
when there's nothing
else to do.
Why do I sail?
Because I love him.

I love you Monica.


Woody

Anchors away!!

Well, I've done it. I've joined the Gig Harbor Sailing Club. It's actually a club and a school. This is good news for everyone. For me because I get to sail more. For my family, because they get to sail more. For you because now I'll have more interesting things to write about than my old sailing stories.

Many of my day sailing trips are going to be outside the mouth of the harbor in the same area. Sailboats can only go so fast so in half a day there is a certain nautical area we can cover. I don't plan to upload lots of pictures of the same things. I've already taken many pictures of point defiance, and the mouth of Gig Harbor. Instead, I'll only post pictures of new, unusual or beautiful things.

Also, because so much will be happening in this area. I thought a map with the names of prominant geographical features would be useful. Below is such a map courtesy of google earch.

If you've never tried google earth, you need to. It is the coolest mapping tool I've ever seen.

Story: Lowering the mast

This is probably my last story, since I don't recall any other interesting events during our last boat ownership experience. This one follows on the heels of the last one with the same message - don't trust your doubts to the experts. If you think it's a bad idea, it probably is. Here's the story.

We sold our sailboat, the Irreantum, on Ebay to a fellow in Idaho. This gentlemen travelled quite a distance to come over, put together the cradle (the same one we used), and take the boat home. One of the challenges we faced, was lowering the rather large, heavy mast. I've never seen how masts are supposed to be raised or lowered, but I'd sure like to. You already know how we raised the mast. I remembered it quite well, so I had reservations about lowering. I think think poles with u shaped notches (or some other secure way to control the mast) is what's need to lower it safely, but that's not what we did.

Instead, we rigged an interesting arrangement of lines from the mast to the dock in order to control the mast. Being as heavy as it was, we lost control soon after we started tipping it and it came crashing down between two other boats. It cracked a spreader, but I was just happy to see we hadn't damaged any other boats.

That's it.

Story: How not to launch a boat.

I've gotten a little out of order with my anectdotes. I last told about my fateful voyage under the bridge from Penrose state park to Gig Harbor. Now, I'd like to go back in time to my first great episode with the boat (and also my first hint that no one is truly and expert when it comes to boats). I'd like to tell you how we got our boat into the water in the first place.

When my partner - not my spouse mind you. In my stories, my partner is my partner in boat ownership. When my partner bought the boat, it was sitting on a custom build wooden cradle which, in turn, sat on a flat bed trailer. The boat was tied to the cradle, and the cradle was tied to the trailer.

Being working men, we scheduled a time to do this, and then had to do it at that time. Time, and tides both play a factor in this. Time, because we picked about the worst time to do this. Tides, because it was the low, low tide that made it the worst time. Let me explain.

At low tide, the water barely reaches the end of the boat ramp. In fact, in really low tides, it may not reach the boat ramp. We had water on the boat ramp, but not much. Recall how the boat was mounted on the trailer; it was quite high in the air. Thus, we need to back the trailer out fairly far into the water in order to float the boat off. The low tide, didn't really give us much room to do that in. Nevertheless, being enthusiastic, and committed, we made a plan.

The plan was to tie the hitch of the trailer to the front bumper of the truck and slowly lower the boat into the water. Why the rope? Because the truck would be too far into the water before the boat could float off. Why the front bumper? So the driver could see better what he (me) was doing.

My partner climbed into the boat (via a ladder) to be ready to motor it to the city dock across the harbor. I got in the truck and proceeded to lower the boat into the water. At this point things happened quickly.

Whether the rope was cut by the bumper, or the weight of the boat was too strong for the rope, I'm not sure, but the rope broke and the trailer went careening down the ramp (partner on top) and into the water. It was riding very low because the boat was still tied to the cradle which was still tied to the trailer; a trailer we didn't own. The water was much too cold for me to wade out and try and pull them close to shore to get the trailer. There was only one course of action...

CC cut the rope. The trailer dropped to the sea floor, but the cradle wouldn't budge. It took another 20-30 minutes of my partner fighting with it, before it finally floated free from the underside of the boat.

To make a long story short, some fishermen happened to be motoring by and kindly helped us get the cradle to shore. Then they spent a bit of time, trolling for the trailer, which they found and hauled to shore as well. My partner in the meantime, motored to the other side.

The moral of the story. If you are uneasy about an idea, don't trust the experts, trust your instinct.

The End

Story: Bringing her about (important lessons)

No this is not a story about convincing my wife that this was all a good thing. It's also not about giving her a ride out to see the boat.

No, this is THE story about when we brought the boat back from the park to Gig Harbor.

We had been given notice by the park ranger that we were not welcome there anymore so we had to the move the boat. It was too far away to keep an eye on it if we just anchored it there, and really there wasn't much room for that. So, we had decided it was time to bring her back.

I was really looking forward to making the trip, and we will see how over-zealousness can be one's undoing. I'd had trouble starting the motor during a previous visit, but figured I just didn't know what I was doing. When my partner and I arrived for our big trip, he was unable to start it as well. I convinced him that we could just sail her to Gig Harbor. At first, he was doubtful, but in the end he wasn't too hard to convince. So, with nothing but the wind for our help, we set sail. Oh what fools... This is how prepared we were

• No radio, cell phone or walkie-talkie (or semaphores, mirrors, horns or whistles)
• One life jacket
• No warm clothes (we were dressed only for the warmth of the day
• No rain gear
• Only a light snack for food (we only expected 3-4 hours)
• No charts or tide tables

Clearly a dumb move on our part. Not having planned a sailing trip before, I would like to plead ignorance, but a little thought would have solved several of these. Where was my scout training?

For reference, here is a picture of where we travelled, and the path we took.


We left with a nice breeze, and had an enjoyable sail until we reached the southern tip of Fox Island. There is a reef near this point, that is shallow enough to be bare at low tide. It would have been nice to know where it was. We were lucky we didn't hit it. The wind had been blowing from a northerly direction so we expected (or I did anyway) to have even beeter wind as we rounded Fox Island. I was thinking the wind would be channelled through the Tacoma Narrows. Nothing doing.

My geography was wrong. You can see in the picture how the narrows is twisted. In addition, the island, and the other coastlines are high cliff's (50-100'). So, instead of getting more wind as we rounded the point, the wind died altogether.

We couldn't have picked a worse place, or time for this to happen. The point where the narrows and Carr inlet meet, can get some pretty interesting rip tides. Our hope had been to pass through here and the narrows before the tide came in. The tidal currents in the narrows can get very strong, and we needed to get through before the currents turned against us.

We were in the doldrums, with nothing left to do but twirl and swirl around in the gentle tides. We tried to maximize our use of every little puff of wind, and to my partners credit he managed to get us just past point B (on the picture) before the currents began to push us back. We didn't want to lose ground so we edged over near the western coastline and dropped anchor. By this time it was late afternoon/early evening. The temperature was dropping, and we were hungry.

We both took our turns at the motor desperately trying to get it to start, but we had no luck. We said a prayer or too, and then decided to try pulling the boat along the coast. I being the more agile one of the group, jumped ashore with a rope in hand and began to pull the boat towards Gig Harbor. It was slow work, and dicey at times. The most alarming event was seeing the boat slam up and down on the the rocky sea floor when some wake waves suprised us. We made it to point C and thought we were home free.

At point C, we thought we were out of the currents influence and decided to try sailing in. There was still no wind, but our hypothesis was that the current coming through the narrows would make a large eddy there and actually swirl us right into the harbor. Yes, that was our thinking. But, that's not how it works. As soon as I got back into the boat (somewhat wet now), we began to drift back towards the bridge. The currents were slacking again because an hour or so had passed, so our progress wasn't extreme. Still, we ended up at point D.

At this point, it was dark, and the water was like glass. It was cold, and we were hungry and tired. It had been thirteen hours since we left. My wife, was wondering if we were dead or not and had called the Coast Guard. It was a good thing she did, because in the end, that's how we got picked up. It was late enough, that we were hopeful someone would come looking for us. As we scanned the city lights, we noticed some car lights blinking in our direction. Hoping it was someone looking for us, I started turning our navigation lights on and off. This went on for a bit and then the blinking stopped. We continued to wait a while more and then saw the lights of a power boat leave the harbor. We started signalling again, and were relieved to see the boat move towards us.

Thirteen hours and 18 miles later, we were saved. It was the Gig Harbor police. They towed us in and saw us safely docked. It was 11:00pm at night. It was a beautiful night. A slight mist had moved in, and the air and water were very calm. I was glad to be home. And, I learned some valuable lessons that have stuck with me on every trip I've taken. Here they are:

• Always leave a travel plan with someone: routes, arrival, departure times, etc...
• Study tide tables and charts before hand and take them with you in case plans change.
• Make sure you have enought flotation devices and wear them.
• Take extra food and water
• Dress warmly (warm enough for an overnighter)
• Dress for inclimate weather (we'd have been in trouble had it started raining on us which it's likely to do in these parts)
• Be sure to have flares, a horn, first aid equipment, etc...
• Arrange communication. Take a radio, cell phone or walkie talkie. Work it out ahead of time.
• Have tools and extra parts for fixing things (like engines).
• Make sure the engine works if you have one. Otherwise, plan on long voyages.

We did have a rubber dinghy, and if push had come to shove, one of us could have rowed home and gotten help. Though, if you've every rowed a rubber dinghy, this would have been a struggle itself.

This has turned into quite the novel. Sorry about that.

Woody

Story: Stepping the Mast

When my partner bought the boat at auction, the rigging was all bundled up and laid flat on top of the boat. For all my imaginary readers who are non-sailors, the rigging consists of the mast, spars, lines, stays, and everything else that is used to hold and maneuver the sails. I'd never thought about how that stuff was put up. But, I trusted that my experienced partner, knew what to do. As it turns out, most sailors, do not know how to step, or unstep, a mast.

When we decided to rig the boat, it was still moored at the state park. This park was about a 45 minute drive from our house and lacked any stores etc... Therefore, we needed to get it done in one fell swoop since it was so inconvenient to go to the boat.

The mast probably weighed 75-100lbs and was about 26 feet long. Our first approach was to place the bottom of the mast in the step, and then try to push it up, but it was too heavy and long for us to get the leverage we needed. We tried this approach for quite a while with no luck; we were starting to get a little desperate. To this point, I'd said nothing, but I decided to start offering my own idea. My idea was for one person to float the boat under the dock bridge while the other held the mast over the side of the bridge. We would lower the mast onto the boat and the person in the boat could get things squared away.

There were two problems. First, the mast was very hard to control for a single person, and second, the tide was coming in and we were quickly losing space under the bridge. To solve the first problem, I lashed the mast to the side of the bridge. It was a loose lashing, but it helped me hang on to the mast while my partner moved the boat. There was no solution to the second problem except to race against time.

We did barely get it done, but it was tough and awkward with a lot of scary moments in between. With the tide high, and the boat almost pressed against the bottom of the bridge, the mast remained unwieldy. But, in the end, we got the mast on.

I'm still not sure what would have been better.

I'll have to tell you about when another expert sailor helped me lower the mast.

Until then,

Happy sailing.
Woody

Story: Where do you put a boat? (Part I)

This is more an anectdote than a story. It's about how we acquired a boat, and the subsequent difficulties of boat ownership.

We had only lived in Gig Harbor for about 3 months, and I was very keen on joining the sailing scene. I met several people at church who enjoyed sailing, and one in particular who was very enthusiastic. I was very cautious about spending much family money on sailing and was looking for low-cost approaches. In fact, I was leaning strongly towards building my own little sailing boat. My friend offered to give me a 30ft steel lifeboat he had in his backyard. I couldn't really imagine a 30' lifeboat, but I knew it was too large for me to work with so I declined.

A short time later, he called with another offer; "Would I like to be a partner in owning a boat?" Naturally, I wanted to, but I needed to convince the family. So, we made a trip and viewed the boat. It seemed absolutely huge, but beautiful. The price was right; there was just one question remaining. Where would we keep it?

Simple. Was my future partners reply? You drop a glob of cement in the harbor, hook a chain and float to it and you have a moorage! Take a look in the harbor - most of those boats have done just that.

Really? Awesome! Was my reply, and we joined the partnership.

I had never really noticed the group of boats clustered in the harbor before. They were a motley collection, in various states of mold and disrepair. One in particular was unique. It was a trimaran. A triple hulled sailboat with a small cabin in the middle. It was probably one of the worst and listed badly to one side. None of this mattered to me though. They were boats, and they were beautiful, and we would soon be joining them. Or so I thought.

The week following the formation of our joint partnership, there was an article in the newspaper about the "Illegally Moored Boats In The Harbor". We hadn't moored ours yet; it was still at the public dock (overtextending it's welcome already). This article alarmed me by explaining that our plan for moorage was illegal. Furthermore, the home owners along that part of the harbor were complaining. I don't sympathize with their point of view (about owning the sea and sky outside their windows), but they were pushing strongly to have the illegal boats removed.

I knew I didn't want to moor our boat illegally and told my partner the same. But what to do then. Moorage in the harbor is expensive, and neither of us felt we could afford it. That's when we had the plan to keep it at a state park out in the woods. The park was closed for winter and no one was using it so it would do for the time.

Well, to make a long, boring story short, we played cat and mouse with the ranger there for several months. We would keep it at the dock for the maximum number of days, and then we would anchor it in the small inlet for a bit, and then repeat the process. Eventually, we had to leave though, and that brought us back to the original questions. Where do you put a boat?


Captain Woody