Don't forget to turn off the music player on the right margin.
Survey says! we're not going anywhere!
Friday morning Al and I were up early for our insurance survey. The plan was simple, get a "short haul" (they keep you in the travelift slings) and relaunch for the rest of the survey after the surveyor had a look at the bottom.
Well, that was the plan. And it was going well, the surveyor found a small delamination on the rudder, told us we might want to address it when we did our next major haul, no worries. Then he examined the rudder shaft. And what he found was not pretty.
Crevice corrosion is when stainless steel gets deprived of oxygen and sets up steel-eating corrosion that works it's way out from the inside. We had it at both ends (top and bottom) of our rudder shaft. Which meant that the areas inside the rudder itself, where we can't even access because it's all covered in fiberglass, is much worse. So bad in fact, that any self-respecting insurance company would not let the boat be re-launched.
So guess where we are?
Sailcraft Boatyard is a first class operation, very professional, lots of eager and hardworking yard employees. And that's a very good thing, because we need a new rudder. Quick. And because we are going to be in their yard for a little while while they make it.
Of course we will help, got to do our part to keep the costs down, hurry the job along so the yard stay doesn't get too expensive, and because we need to learn a new skill.
I wonder if they will let me feed them lunch while they are still working? You know.." Take a bite, watch out, don't get mayo in the resin!"
Seriously, we are still waiting on the dreaded estimate, and this weekend has been a boat work bust, but we are hoping to be launched in 2 weeks. Any longer and we might have to (gasp) get jobs to pay the yard bill.
Well, that was the plan. And it was going well, the surveyor found a small delamination on the rudder, told us we might want to address it when we did our next major haul, no worries. Then he examined the rudder shaft. And what he found was not pretty.
Crevice corrosion is when stainless steel gets deprived of oxygen and sets up steel-eating corrosion that works it's way out from the inside. We had it at both ends (top and bottom) of our rudder shaft. Which meant that the areas inside the rudder itself, where we can't even access because it's all covered in fiberglass, is much worse. So bad in fact, that any self-respecting insurance company would not let the boat be re-launched.
So guess where we are?
Sailcraft Boatyard is a first class operation, very professional, lots of eager and hardworking yard employees. And that's a very good thing, because we need a new rudder. Quick. And because we are going to be in their yard for a little while while they make it.
Of course we will help, got to do our part to keep the costs down, hurry the job along so the yard stay doesn't get too expensive, and because we need to learn a new skill.
I wonder if they will let me feed them lunch while they are still working? You know.." Take a bite, watch out, don't get mayo in the resin!"
Seriously, we are still waiting on the dreaded estimate, and this weekend has been a boat work bust, but we are hoping to be launched in 2 weeks. Any longer and we might have to (gasp) get jobs to pay the yard bill.
"DEAR EDITOR:
"DEAR EDITOR:
Some of my friends say there is no Seagrass Monster.
Please tell me the truth; is there a Seagrass Monster?”
Virginia (and pretty much the entire east coast)
Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds.
Yes, Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) there is a Seagrass Monster. It exists as certainly as mud on anchors and dropped dinghy painters exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its greatest scourge and Bain. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Seagrass Monster. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginia. (and pretty much the entire east coast) There would be no reason to quickly drop anchor then, no cursing, no throwing objects to make tolerable this existence. We should have no frustration, except in port. The eternal light with which engine lazarettes fill the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Seagrass Monsters! Yes Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast)
seagrass monsters DO exist. They live in the bowels of our sea strainer, and cut off our circulation to our pumps. They cause our engine to overheat, and we must lay down our anchor and clear our basket. But the worst plague of mankind is visited upon us when the temperatures soar into the three digit numbers and the seagrass monster comes upon our air conditioning strainers without warning. We are instantly plunged into despair, as temperatures and tempers sour in unison, while struggling to free strainers and capture the seagrass monster before warmness overtakes us.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Seagrass Monster?! It lives, and it lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, it will continue to plague the heart of boaters.
Some of my friends say there is no Seagrass Monster.
Please tell me the truth; is there a Seagrass Monster?”
Virginia (and pretty much the entire east coast)
Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds.
Yes, Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) there is a Seagrass Monster. It exists as certainly as mud on anchors and dropped dinghy painters exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its greatest scourge and Bain. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Seagrass Monster. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginia. (and pretty much the entire east coast) There would be no reason to quickly drop anchor then, no cursing, no throwing objects to make tolerable this existence. We should have no frustration, except in port. The eternal light with which engine lazarettes fill the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Seagrass Monsters! Yes Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast)
seagrass monsters DO exist. They live in the bowels of our sea strainer, and cut off our circulation to our pumps. They cause our engine to overheat, and we must lay down our anchor and clear our basket. But the worst plague of mankind is visited upon us when the temperatures soar into the three digit numbers and the seagrass monster comes upon our air conditioning strainers without warning. We are instantly plunged into despair, as temperatures and tempers sour in unison, while struggling to free strainers and capture the seagrass monster before warmness overtakes us.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Seagrass Monster?! It lives, and it lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, (and pretty much the entire east coast) nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, it will continue to plague the heart of boaters.
We still have it
I was in it before I had time to think about it and that was probably the best , since there was no turning back, no pause button and no way to extract myself or the boat from the situation.
The rage. It's been described in cruising guides and magazines; wind against current creating steep, sharp waves, combined with deep troughs, clumped close together, all seeming to conspire together to make one really work at keeping the boat on course and under control.
Ever watch Deadliest Catch? You know the scenes where they show the boats plunging down into the large seas, green water being thrown over the foredeck, spray going across most of the boat? The boat hurls down into the sea, then races up sharply into the sky as it sheds the sea from it's decks, only to plunge headlong back down into the next deep trough.
As we exited Beaufort inlet, there were the usual large number of small boats along the edges of the channel, fishing and buzzing about. I also noticed the rather large barge being short towed into the inlet by the tug. There was another large freighter that I was watching further out in the channel, well beyond everything else. Was it even moving, and if so, was it getting ready to head into the channel and towards me?
The small insectual boats had my immediate attention as well as the barge/tug combo. And of course keeping an eye to the channel markers and making sure I was still inside it. The water runs deep here if you stay inside the channel, not so much near either shore located not far outside the channel. I would have to keep to the right of the channel and give the tow/barge plenty of room as I went out. I needed to make a turn out of the channel after the second red nun (they were on the left) to make the Cape, and was gauging where he and I would pass. I noticed that the barge seemed quite skewed in relation to it's tow, and I wondered briefly about that...
Then the waves started to get my attention. Because I was getting into them. I mean, surely I had noticed them before, well yes I had thank you very much. It's just that they really hadn't registered.
And they should have, because I have run the rage in this inlet before, in little Journey. With her 13HP engine, it was more of a crap shoot - will we survive? We had, obviously, but it had been an Oh S**t moment for both of us.
So yea, I can be thick about not noticing the rage when it's right in front of me. Kinda like me to be wondering about a freighter over five miles distant instead....
Beaufort inlet is a great inlet with plenty of water and room to maneuver. The deep water of the inlet makes a rapid funnel for the tide receding from the inland waters. This causes waves and turbulence at the narrowest part of the inlet and just beyond, where the water rushes out to meet the ocean. This flow is to the east, into the Atlantic. The waters of the Atlantic, meanwhile have been flowing west towards the eastern US shore. This causes the normal chop and waves that are found at the inlet.
Now throw in an east wind, that is to say wind that originates from the east and is headed west, and things start to get interesting. The winds help push the waves toward shore at the same time the tide is creating waves flowing out of the inlet. These all collide and the wind helps create a chaotic condition of tall, quick seas known as the rage. These large square peaked waves are everywhere, packed close in on top of each other, and the waves and current conspire to make controlling the rudder difficult, much like in a storm at sea.
Into this we found ourselves, where just moment before, visions of gentle sailing through broad reaches were forming, now replaced by riding mechanical bulls. The boat began demanding my full attention, which was a shame, since I was still in a DUH moment concerning this new development, and was just starting to comprehend the skewing of the barge behind the tug. Then it all came together with a BANG - RAGE ON! The tug was having major problems keeping his tow in check, due to the rage we were in. I needed to keep well away from him, keep an eye ON him, stay in the channel, avoid hitting the next green marker (and believe me, this was a major concern now, given conditions and the way the helm was fighting me) oh yeah, and keep the boat from floundering sideways to all this mess.
As soon as my brain caught up, I was fine. Sure it was work, and keeping myself behind the wheel was a constant battle, sort of a combination of mid-auto-wreck that never ends, and free fall space walking... at random. In the midst of it all, was the job of reassuring my grandson Caleb. He is ten and has great sea legs, but I was at fault for not preparing him for an eventuality like a rage, and he needed constant verbal reassuring. He rode best pressed into my right side at the helm, so that's how we did it, side by side through the rage and around the tug and it's barge. After that, I began to breathe a bit, and it got sorta fun watching the green water throw itself up over the front of the boat.
Al was quiet, letting me concentrate on the task at hand, both of us ignoring the things below, rolling around, falling to the floor, crashing wherever. Suddenly Al raced below and stayed below for several minutes. Busy as I was, I couldn't focus on him, but thought perhaps he ws picking up, and I remember thinking that was probably a bit premature.....
And then he was back on deck, and we worked our way across the channel and out into the Atlantic. After around ten minutes more, we were beyond the reach of the rage and things began to settle down a bit. We were still rolling a bit, even with the sails to damper the roll, and most important, Caleb lost much of his fear, and visibly relaxed.
We were on our way finally, to Cape Lookout.
It was only after anchoring that I found out that Al had rushed below to close all the forward portholes. We spent most of the afternoon drying the mattresses sheets and Al and Caleb clothes.
We are so dense, it's a wonder we float.
And thankfully, we still have adventures to fill a page.
The rage. It's been described in cruising guides and magazines; wind against current creating steep, sharp waves, combined with deep troughs, clumped close together, all seeming to conspire together to make one really work at keeping the boat on course and under control.
Ever watch Deadliest Catch? You know the scenes where they show the boats plunging down into the large seas, green water being thrown over the foredeck, spray going across most of the boat? The boat hurls down into the sea, then races up sharply into the sky as it sheds the sea from it's decks, only to plunge headlong back down into the next deep trough.
As we exited Beaufort inlet, there were the usual large number of small boats along the edges of the channel, fishing and buzzing about. I also noticed the rather large barge being short towed into the inlet by the tug. There was another large freighter that I was watching further out in the channel, well beyond everything else. Was it even moving, and if so, was it getting ready to head into the channel and towards me?
The small insectual boats had my immediate attention as well as the barge/tug combo. And of course keeping an eye to the channel markers and making sure I was still inside it. The water runs deep here if you stay inside the channel, not so much near either shore located not far outside the channel. I would have to keep to the right of the channel and give the tow/barge plenty of room as I went out. I needed to make a turn out of the channel after the second red nun (they were on the left) to make the Cape, and was gauging where he and I would pass. I noticed that the barge seemed quite skewed in relation to it's tow, and I wondered briefly about that...
Then the waves started to get my attention. Because I was getting into them. I mean, surely I had noticed them before, well yes I had thank you very much. It's just that they really hadn't registered.
And they should have, because I have run the rage in this inlet before, in little Journey. With her 13HP engine, it was more of a crap shoot - will we survive? We had, obviously, but it had been an Oh S**t moment for both of us.
So yea, I can be thick about not noticing the rage when it's right in front of me. Kinda like me to be wondering about a freighter over five miles distant instead....
Beaufort inlet is a great inlet with plenty of water and room to maneuver. The deep water of the inlet makes a rapid funnel for the tide receding from the inland waters. This causes waves and turbulence at the narrowest part of the inlet and just beyond, where the water rushes out to meet the ocean. This flow is to the east, into the Atlantic. The waters of the Atlantic, meanwhile have been flowing west towards the eastern US shore. This causes the normal chop and waves that are found at the inlet.
Now throw in an east wind, that is to say wind that originates from the east and is headed west, and things start to get interesting. The winds help push the waves toward shore at the same time the tide is creating waves flowing out of the inlet. These all collide and the wind helps create a chaotic condition of tall, quick seas known as the rage. These large square peaked waves are everywhere, packed close in on top of each other, and the waves and current conspire to make controlling the rudder difficult, much like in a storm at sea.
Into this we found ourselves, where just moment before, visions of gentle sailing through broad reaches were forming, now replaced by riding mechanical bulls. The boat began demanding my full attention, which was a shame, since I was still in a DUH moment concerning this new development, and was just starting to comprehend the skewing of the barge behind the tug. Then it all came together with a BANG - RAGE ON! The tug was having major problems keeping his tow in check, due to the rage we were in. I needed to keep well away from him, keep an eye ON him, stay in the channel, avoid hitting the next green marker (and believe me, this was a major concern now, given conditions and the way the helm was fighting me) oh yeah, and keep the boat from floundering sideways to all this mess.
As soon as my brain caught up, I was fine. Sure it was work, and keeping myself behind the wheel was a constant battle, sort of a combination of mid-auto-wreck that never ends, and free fall space walking... at random. In the midst of it all, was the job of reassuring my grandson Caleb. He is ten and has great sea legs, but I was at fault for not preparing him for an eventuality like a rage, and he needed constant verbal reassuring. He rode best pressed into my right side at the helm, so that's how we did it, side by side through the rage and around the tug and it's barge. After that, I began to breathe a bit, and it got sorta fun watching the green water throw itself up over the front of the boat.
Al was quiet, letting me concentrate on the task at hand, both of us ignoring the things below, rolling around, falling to the floor, crashing wherever. Suddenly Al raced below and stayed below for several minutes. Busy as I was, I couldn't focus on him, but thought perhaps he ws picking up, and I remember thinking that was probably a bit premature.....
And then he was back on deck, and we worked our way across the channel and out into the Atlantic. After around ten minutes more, we were beyond the reach of the rage and things began to settle down a bit. We were still rolling a bit, even with the sails to damper the roll, and most important, Caleb lost much of his fear, and visibly relaxed.
We were on our way finally, to Cape Lookout.
It was only after anchoring that I found out that Al had rushed below to close all the forward portholes. We spent most of the afternoon drying the mattresses sheets and Al and Caleb clothes.
We are so dense, it's a wonder we float.
And thankfully, we still have adventures to fill a page.
The finer things in life
When I was in the fifth grade, my school changed from having a long Easter weekend to a real spring break. One whole week of freedom. Of course, it was called Easter break, but admittedly, that was a long time ago...
My Mom had other plans for my week off. It was called "spring cleaning." This all invasive ritual had been something she had previously keep all to herself, but Mom was always teaching me, and this year she taught me she knew how to share.
As I was cleaning out the kitchen cabinets, in order to wash the shelves, put in new shelf paper, and then stack everything back onto the shelves, I came across some dinnerware that I had never seen. Way up on the highest shelf; I started removing it and stacking it on the table. To my 9 year old eyes, it was the most beautiful thing in the world, small blue and yellow flowers with a platinum ring around the edge. It looked very delicate and young as I was, even I thought it must have cost a fortune. Mom came into the kitchen, and I asked her about this wonder of wonders. After she gasped a bit, and admonished me to be oh so very careful with it, she told me it was the good china. This was the dinnerware set she and my father had received as wedding presents, many people purchasing a placeware set apiece, to make up the whole service for eight.
I asked her why we weren't using it, and she said it was for "special" occasions only. It was too good for everyday use. My brain started working and I asked her "Do you mean like Thanksgiving?" Yes, she agreed. Well then, can we use it for Thanksgiving dinner? She said we could.
I'm sure she thought I would forget all about it by November, after all this was Spring, but when I was asked to set the Thanksgiving table, I went to get the step stool. She asked why I needed that, and I said I had to reach the top shelf for the good china. No, she said. She had changed her mind, we would use the regular everyday stuff. Well, no one in our household ever questioned or spoke back to a parent, especially right before a Thanksgiving meal. Why risk getting sent to my room without dinner on Thanksgiving? But it gave me a lot for my 9 year old mind to think about, and I decided, probably that very night, that I would never not use my nice things. Sure, as Mom pointed out, they could get broken. But why have something I never use and enjoy?
Fast forward to this April.
I was home sorting kitchen stuff. Making room for my things in my parent's kitchen, figuring out what kitchen items to take to the boat. I came across Mom's good china. What to do with this? It took up shelf space that I needed for my stuff and I had two sets of dinnerware already between my and my Mom's everyday dinnerware. Staring at it, I remembered how it never got used and I decided right there and then to rectify that.
I would take it to the boat. Call me crazy, but here was china that (except for cleaning the cabinets) never saw the outside of the cabinet. Now I would take it to see the world.
Would it get broken? Maybe not, with a little care and planning, I should be able to keep it safe. And it would be USED. If I didn't do this, one of my children would someday be staring at this same china wondering where on earth this china had come from, who did it belong to. Would they put it away for their children to come across and tuck away? How many generations would not use this china before it turned to dust?
As I was pouring through the multitude of treasures in the kitchen, I happened upon some plastic baggies with paper towels wrapped around some items inside. Opening these, I discovered a full service for 12 of good Oneida stainless flatware. I remembered this set, it had belonged to my Grandmother. My Mom had purchased it for her way back in the late fifties with Betty Crocker Coupons. I must have been about seven when she gave it to her. Grandma passed on, and I guess Mom brought the flatware home with her and placed it in these bags for safekeeping. I knew it would be a perfect match for the china. It would go to the boat.
So when I set a table, I'm sure a lot of our cruising friends will see my fine china and flashy flatware and dismiss me as nuts. I mean, most folks have good plastic plates and everyday stainless. They don't break, they don't need babying; it just makes sense.
But every time I set my table, I think of my Grandmother and Mother. I wonder what they would think of my lifestyle and decisions. I silently thank them for making me who I am. I have a piece of both of them with me everyday, and everywhere I roam. I feel like I'm taking them with me, and sharing my life with them. The connection is through hard inanimate objects, but it's a connection of memories. Through them and with them, we are making new memories together.
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