Time Constraints

Our plan had been to go east about the Delaware/Maryland/Virginia peninsula on the return trip and make port calls in the Atlantic coastal cities. We were unable to follow through due to a illness in Brian’s family, so we took the shortest route home through Delaware Bay and the C & D Canal.

We left Cohansey River at 0600 to take advantage of the north bound current through Delaware Bay. It was surreal to motor out through glassy water that the night before had been a raging white capped nightmare. We motored northwest up the bay until we arrived at the canal entrance.

Delaware Bay is a major shipping lane with the ports of Wilmington and Philadelphia up stream on the Delaware River. As we passed a power station a big dredge operation was working on our right. He radioed us and warned us to stay clear, only he didn’t identify himself. At the same time, and large tanker was coming down stream towards us, and called warning us to get out of the way . . . without identifying himself. At the time, I had no idea who was who, and they weren’t interested in explaining themselves. We finally figured it out, but their radio hails were more confusing than helpful.

We entered the Canal west-bound, and made it within a mile of the western terminus before we turned into the port of Chesapeake City.

Saturday night in Chesapeake City is pretty exciting. Well . . . it’s loud, anyway. Power boaters – especially owners of the big, loud, powerful speed boats were in abundance. I guess there were 20 of them rafted up at the restaurant dock bar. Maybe it was a club function. Regardless, on our way to town that in our eight-foot rowing dinghy I was tempted to call out and threaten them with swamping with my massive dinghy wake (I restrained myself. . . ). The band played outdoors; people cheer and yelled, the boaters ran their stereos loudly even though there was a band that was louder than everything. Alcohol fuels most of activity, and I’m not talking about E-90.

We four had dinner that night at the Tap Room, which was crowded and noisy – for good reason. The food was excellent, the staff was friendly and light hearted, and the prices were too low to be true. If ever in Chesapeake City, I would recommend it over any of the waterside bars and restaurants.

We returned to Cay of Sea made our evening routine of showers, medications (we’re old!), teeth, and got into bed.

From our first stop in Chesapeake City.

Scituate, MA – Stopped for Repairs

We left Beverly/Salem on a beautiful Sunday morning anticipating a reasonably short day underway. That did not materialize. What did materialize was an exhaust manifold problem with our buddy boat. They discovered the problem as soon as it happened, so no extra damage was done, but they were dead in the water. We stood by waiting for the towing company to take them under tow into Scituate Harbor. We secured moorings in Scituate, and next day Brian arranged to have the repairs done. But an emergency repair involves ordering parts, wrangling the repair schedule of the shop, then actually doing the repair (which only took about a half hour start to finish). After arriving on Sunday afternoon, the repairs were complete by Thursday. That’s actually not too bad, honestly. And Brian was very confident in the tech’s ability and experience.

Inyanga under tow

So we hung out in Scituate and enjoyed the town. All shops and stores were very convenient to the waterfront, and we could walk everywhere.

A view of Scituate Harbor

Scituate Harbor buzzes with boats. It’s one of the busy boating centers of the Boston area, attractive I would guess, because it’s out of the city and away from big city pricing as well. Sail and power boats seem to be equally represented amongst the fleet. There is also a small, but very active professional fishing fleet whose catch is mostly lobster, but there are several big net operations as well. The boats begin leaving the harbor before first light, powering past our mooring with their super bright light banks that are mounted on steel tubing superstructures above the pilot house, leaving the aroma of sea creatures in their wake. Oh, that’s a strong oder! We see them return in the afternoon, mooring at the city pier in turn, and unloading their catch. Then If we’re up early enough, we can see them loading bait (salted herring) from a truck onto their boats. The pier is very high with the tidal range in excess of 10 feet, so there are 3 hydraulically operated derricks they use for loading and unloading.

We visited the hardware store several times, as well as the grocery store. Amazingly, the ice cream vender only got visited once, but Ruth and I found a breakfast place we liked and ate there twice!

We had a pump partially fail, but I was able to rig a work-around. It’s our fresh water pump that brings water to the galley sink. It still pumps, but it leaks. We found out that a leak was in the system when Ruth tried to get water at the sink, but nothing came out. The bow tank ran empty way too early! We knew we hadn’t used that much water. I saw the leak after putting my head in the bilge and eye-balling it. Fortunately I had an inline valve that was just the right size. I installed that upstream from the pump, and now we close the valve when the pump isn’t needed. I’ll replace the pump when we get home. I’ve rebuilt them before, but with poor results. The rebuilt pump always leaks just as bad as before.

The valve. Yes, I know there’s water in the bilge. There’s always water in the bilge. I drained it right after I took this picture.

There were several days of sailing camp while we moored in Scituate. I saw a fleet of Optimists (8 foot prams) but never saw them sailing. We also saw a fleet of boats that looked very much like lightnings. They cruised through the mooring field weaving through the boats, popping up in unexpected quarters every time we looked around. After several days we began to hear raucous shouts: “starboard, starboard!” as they asserted the belief that they had the right of way anytime they neared another boat in the fleet. They were having a great time standing on the bow with super soakers, pursuing each other, acting like pirates, or America’s Cup sailors.

This crew seems a little tame at the moment.

Their antics looked so fun, I had to launch our own sailing dinghy and cruise the mooring field myself.

So much fun sailing a little boat! You can see the city pier in the background, where the fishing boats load and unload.

And we had to make a repair to one of our dinghy oars. The oars are “leathered” – that is, fitted with a rubber sleeve at the point where the oar passes through the oar lock. My leathers sleeves are actually rubber, with a thick rubber collar at the handle end that prevents the oar from sliding too far up the oar lock. The collar had torn finally, after 25 years of use. Traditionally, these collars are made from leather also, or alternatively line. A turkshead knot is tied onto the oar in the correct location, then tacked down with copper tacks or finishing nails.

Ruth did the rope work because she never saw a puzzles or problem she didn’t like.

And there it is.

Two Nights At Barnegat Inlet

Weather kept us in Barnegat Bay. The day following our arrival was forecast to have strong winds, and the inlet looked dangerous in those conditions. So we relaxed and did a few boat chores. I set up my 3-part block to launch and retrieve the dink. I messed with it for a long time and for several different sessions, but failed to remember to photograph the gear or the process. However, I’ll describe it here and post an illustration.

The line ties off onto one block, and is run through one half of the two-part block. It returns to the single block for a turn, then is run through the other half of of the two-part block before returning. That is the end that will be pulled to hoist the dink.

The second illustration from the right is what I’m using.

The double block is attached to a halyard, and the single is attached to the dinghy. The halyard is raise to a height slightly above the spreaders. I actually take the hauling end of the line and run it through one of the sheet blocks attached to the rail, and that gives me a little more advantage, and allows me to hold position if I have to.

The system worked just as well as I expected, except that I bought only about half the length of line that I should have. 40 feet wasn’t nearly enough

Fortunately my cruising buddy Brian had lots of line of the right diameter, and made a donation to my cause. At about 70 feet, that seemed like the right amount of line to get things done. Work gloves also make the job easier.

While I was in the mood to fettle, I also neatened up a bunch of wire underneath the galley counter. These were loose ends that I just forgot to clean up and tie down. Okay, all better now.

We had a rain big rainstorm in late afternoon, and the dinghy got a bunch of water in it. Since we were going to dinner on our friend’s boat in an hour, I put on my aqua boots, emptied my pockets (see, I have experience with this), and carefully stepped down into the dink. I was hoping I could keep the equilibrium stable, even with the dink 25 percent filled with water. I was wrong.

It happens sort of slowly, because the water just lazily sloshed over to where my weight was. When I realized that all the water has compromised my balance, there was no quick – or slow – recovery. One part of the gunnel submerged, and I was swamped. I got to the boarding ladder okay, but was completely soaked. Now we really needed that 3-part block system that I set up earlier. That was really the only way to unswamp the dink. Lift from the bow and let the water drain, then scoop the remaining gallons from the reservoir formed by the transom and stern thwart.

That was a cold swim that ended with a cold shower (no water heated for a warm one). Ah well, if it weren’t for those things, what would you laugh at while reading my blog?

We had a wonderful Italian meal together, and lots of good conversation. Brian and I worked together in the Navy several times, and our families are close. We were even stationed in Italy at the same time, so we share that cultural experience. The good, authentic Italian meal brought back good memories.

My wife Ruth, the culinary wizard, managed to bake an apple upsidedown cake for dessert in the Dutch oven on the stove top! It was delicious.

This morning we dinghyed to shore and picked up a few groceries, mailed an envelope, took on ice, water, and fuel. As we departed the marina, I promptly ran aground in the marina! There was a shallow spot right next to the fuel dock, and I guess I should have backed away from the dock, instead of swinging around bow first. We extended the boom to starboard, and Ruth added her weight to the end of it, and we slid off the shoal as the boat heeled and the keel lifted. Never a dull moment.

Salem NJ to Cape May

We got a fairly early start in a moderate, chilly rainfall. Chilly for late June. We wore rain gear, mostly for warmth, and most of the day. Cay of Sea got to try on her new rain gear for the first time for the reason of rain fall, and we are very, very satisfied that we had these curtains built. If you have ever doubted whether full canvas on your boat was really worth the cost (and it is very costly), doubt no more. Worth every cent!

Delaware Bay has a bad reputation, but failed to live up to it, and I’m not complaining. We had a reasonably calm 50 mile trip down from Salem, the length of the entire bay. Of course with any boating trip, it’s important to choose your weather, and that’s why we opted to sail in the rain. Winds were calm and fair, and we knew the sea state would be calm as well. We did have a rough patch, however, for about an hour at noontime. Must have been some convergence of ebbing tidal current against ocean swells coming up the bay, mixed with wind direction. Regardless, it got lumpy for about an hour, then smoothed out again.

The rain lasted until about 1400, at which point we rolled up our rain curtains, enjoying the fresh breeze the open space afforded. We made phenomenal progress as long as the tide was ebbing, but when the tide turned we went from 7.5 knots to 4 knots. That lasted, curiously, an hour when our speed began to increase. Apparently, as we angled north to close the Cape, we turn away from the strength of the foul current, and just may have caught the benefit of an eddy, which carried us along faster than we could have progressed normally.

Rolled up rain curtains

As we closed the Cape, the air got chilly again, and our short sleeves disappeared into jackets.

We entered the Cap May Canal and made our way 3 miles to a marina where we spent two nights reprovisioning, resting, picking up a couple of articles of marine gear, and showering. This marina – South Jersey Marina In Cape May has palatial shower facilities! Amazing luxury and comfort, and we basked repeatedly.

Marine Gear.

We broke our radio, after many years of service. This is one my eldest son gave us, and I was sad to see it go. We didn’t actually break it. The rubberized cladding wore out on the mic, and then we lost the push button for transmission. We worked around it for a few days using random pointy things to actuate the mic button, but as a long term hack, this was untenable. I bought a new radio at West Marine and installed it yesterday evening.

I also picked up 40 feet of line and some shackles to build a three-part block system (I already have the blocks on board) so we can lift the dinghy on and off the boat easily. Depredations of an aging body and waning strength have made this an imperative. I can still do it with just the halyard, but it shouldn’t have to be that hard. I’ll post a photo of it next time we launch the dinghy.

We all walked to the grocery store that was about a mile away, but took a residential street instead of the main road. Such beautiful gardens and old homes. Some of these home were really big and fancy, but most were just regular-people-homes. Beautifully restored, painted bright, adorned with bright, colorful gardens. It was like stepping back a hundred years into a well kept middle-class neighborhood, only better, because it was obvious that modern day neighborhood pride of the restored section of town was at work.

Finally, Ruth made an amazing dinner of Pad Thai last night (with thanks to Jenn, our daughter-in-law, for the recipe) that we shared with our cruising partners. Hmm, hmm, hmm. It was so good!

Departure Delay = More Time for Projects

Our partners in this summer’s cruise have been delayed by their boat yard’s launch schedule. Now it appears that we won’t get going until next week. So. . . I discovered another project that really had to be done. As I started to evaluate my dinghy’s rub rail lashings, I found a large area of rot in the topsides. This really has to be taken care of prior to departure, so the delay has been to my benefit.

I’ve posted several times about repairing this plywood pram. I built it with my sons about 25 years ago, and it has always been our tender. It’s benefits are, that it is infinitely repairable, being made from marine plywood – 6mm okume, to be exact. This also makes it pretty easy to move around by one person. It think it weighs around 60 pounds. It stows on the foredeck in bad weather, tows well, rows really well, and sails adequately well. It just needs periodic attention, and of course, being wood, it is at risk of rot. This is exacerbated by the fact that I’ve lashed fire hose to the gunnel, and pierced the rail with holes to accept the lashings. Still, it’s only one section that has suffered rot this time, and it was put back into serviceable condition quickly.

You can see the corner that I cut out. Some of this material was so thin I could have pushed my thumb through it.

This was a “stitch and glue” pram, and I used the same method to repair it. The repair panels are cut to approximate size, then pieced into place and held with zip ties. I pre-coat all the mating edges with plain epoxy, position the panels, then fill the seams with thickened epoxy.

After the epoxy cures, the zip tie ends are snipped off, and the new sections are shaped and smooth with an angle grinder.

The image above shows the area shaped and ground smooth, then glass cloth applied to the surface to tie the structure together. This is a very strong repair.

Here the repair is sanded smooth and painted. All it needs now is to relash the rub rail and repaint the name on the transom.

Oh, and I need to restore the green sheer stripe too and varnish the aft thwart.

Punch List Complete (new list started!)

This makes me feel good!

I’ve accomplished all my boat project goals for prior to departure. Now I’m just doing a few “nice to have” minor chores before departure. A partial list is below:

Remaining Boat Chores

Cover plates for bow cleats v-berth (Fabricated, now being varnished)

Renew lashing for dinghy firehose (needs only partial relashing)

Wire in a couple more charging ports (I have them, but need to do)

New Stove Storage board (The old one is rotting and needs replacing)

Chase leaks? (These are topside rainwater leaks that show up near the gunnels. Not serious, but If I can think of nothing else to do, I’ll chase these)

Anchor for Dink (Ordered)

Evaluate wet suits (Still in the attic. . . )

Get new flares (Ordered)

Semi-Annual Dinghy Refit

Every couple of years, my old plywood dinghy begins to look sad. Paint faded and cracked, bottom scraped where I’ve dragged it up on a pier or a beach, firehose coming unlashed from the gunnels. That means it’s time to bring a little respectability back to the dinghy. . .  give her a little love.

Minor projects this time – reglass the bottom around the centerboard trunk opening. It’s been leaking ever since I ran aground a couple of years back.

Glassed all around the trunk and down into the interior.

Cured and Sanded.

There a several places where I’ve worn through the glass on the bottom and shallow cracks are opening up. These need to be reglassed.

Cracks opening where I’ve worn through the glass.

And I’ve relashed the firehose in one section. Finally, new paint will make her look fresh and protect her structure for a couple more years.

Nice new white line.

And while I’m into the epoxy, I might as well fill a couple of opening seams in my tiller prior to refinishing. It won’t hold varnish with those big gaps in the tiller.

I’ve injected thickened epoxy into the seams and clamped around a plastic bag so that my clamps don’t get glued on to the tiller.

Here’s the unclamped tiller.

I hope to finish the glass and sanding today and paint tomorrow.  Got to get her looking good for Memorial Day Cruise!

 

Sail Repair

The lesson here is that a sail’s stitching should be repaired before it becomes a tear in the sailcoth.

I just learned that lesson.

I’ve known for the past few sails that there was a section of stitching near the clew of the main that needed re-sewing. Yeah sure, I’ll get to it. Eventually. During a day-sail last week, eventually became immediately, as the foot of the sail tore out around the broken stitches for a length of about 12 inches. I pulled down to the first reef to finish out the sail, and took the sail down the next day to fix it.

I could have done this by hand with my Speedy Stitcher, but I have access to a marina neighbor’s heavy-duty sewing machine. It was time to give it a try.

Forthunately, I’ve watched my wife sew long enough and asked her enough questions to understand what has to happen with the machine – the concept of the locking stitch, what the bobbin does, what effect the tension knob has, and why a sewing machine is threaded the way it is – so I was able to figure out how to thread and adjust the machine, and how to refill the bobbin with a little trial-and-error.

I cut a patch to sew down over the tear, placed over the carefully positioned section for repairing with the help of double-sided sewing tape, and began to carefully feed it through the machine. Four times! This is a straight-stitch-only machine, so I had to make sure I had sewn down all the edges and fully supported the material surrounding the tear.

The machine is made by Thompson – heavy, strong gears and body allow it to punch through many layers of cloth.

In the photo above you can see the patch applied – it’s to the left of the seam opening – through which daylight is pouring! I repaired this open seam, and inspected the rest of the sail as well. I restitched down the entire length of the leach, as much of the stitching was weak or missing, and reenforced a few other places too.

Here’s an image of the repaired sail in use. The repairs aren’t beautiful, but they’re strong. And it looks like I need to adjust the wrinkles out of the trim too. . .

I discovered yesterday that I missed one weakened seam just above the first reef point – and it began to open up in the brisk breeze. I dropped the main as soon as I noticed it (see – I’m learning) and finished out the sail on jib alone. Today, I’ll take a closer look at it. This one may be small enough to repair by hand. If not, I’ll bring the machine down to the boat, simply pull the foot of the sail off the outhaul, and repair it right there on deck.

Finally, during a walk today through another marina in my neighborhood, I came across this beautiful lapstrake dinghy and though you would enjoy a photo of it.

Tender to s/v Hesper, featured in this post.

Dinghy Excursions

Although the holiday busyness has put a temporary hold on exploring Rockhold Creek, I did get out on the water earlier in the month, pushing northward on the creek farther than I’ve ever been. It was a beautiful cloudless day with barely a stir in the air, yet it was enough to ghost along for a little while. After half a mile I had to brail up the sail and row, but it was fun, and good excercise too.

Dinghy rig waiting to set up.

Ready to launch.

To brail up the sail, the mast-ends of the sprit and boom fold in opposite directions: the sprit drops down parallel to the leach, and the boom swings up parallel to the leach. Then the two spars are rolled into the sail until they are rolled up next to the mast. I lash them together with the  sheet. It takes about 2 minutes to stow the sail and unship the rudder and centerboard. But. . . I have to move carefully. I keep as much of my weight towards the center of the boat as possible. It would not be difficult to ship water over the transoms by moving all my weight into the ends.

I screwed down a length of firehose over the edge of pier where the dinghy slides into the water to protect the bottom paint from scrapes and gouges. I’ve used various materials through years in different places where we’ve used the dink – an old piece of carpet, or a scrap of foam – but the fire hose permanently installed in this manner is the best.

Sailing rig stowed, ready for rowing.

I safely transitioned from pier to dinghy (hardest part of the whole operation) and glided out of the slip powered by a light breeze.

Looking back over the transom at the launching area in my slip. My house in the background.

Out into the creek, I was the only vessel under way. We headed north toward the bridge, and passed underneath with no problems! When the mast is only 5′ tall, a bridge is never an obstacle. And under the bridge is where sailing ended, as we passed into a more sheltered part of the creek.

Looking back on the bridge.

Bridge resident. I didn’t see any trolls!

I rowed in a leisurely fashion for another 20 minutes, passing under another bridge and a large power-boat marina – boats that moor here are low enough to pass under the bridge, eliminating all but the smallest sailboats, and most of the larger motor yachts.

I finally reached the edge of an area devoid of houses, and really wanted to explore further into the marshy area beyond, but I had evening commitments and had to turn around. I reluctantly spun around and pulled steadily towards home for a solid 30 minutes. By this time I had stripped off my sweatshirt and soaked through my shirt with the effort.

Unrigged, Sea Minor upended on the pier, I carried the sailing rig back to the house, moving on to the next thing in the evening.

Dinghy Sailing on Rockhold Creek

This is a photo Ruth took about a year ago.

Yesterday was stunning, weather-wise: bright blue sky, moderate temps in the high 40s, a breeze under 10 knots. Perfect for dinghy sailing.

There is a lot of water all around the region of the creek, and dinghy or kayak is the perfect vehicle for exploring because a lot of it is pretty shallow. Dinghy with oars is also the best way to tour a marina: you can go as slowly as you want, maneuvering is easy, you can talk to people and look at the boats at your leisure.

I traveled south on the creek, then cut northwest up Tracy’s Creek and past the west end of the very large Herrington Harbor North marina/boat yard.  I passed under the bridge and into the marsh pool adjacent to the local grass-strip airport. It was absolutely serene sailing that little cockle shell of a boat in the gentle breeze, drifting when the air went light, tacking and jibing as it shifted around and through the creek lowlands. When becalmed I sometimes resorted to oars to pull out of a wind hole, and at one point I brailed up the spritsail and just rowed for a while.

My marina and house in view over the transom. Pretty calm, but not without a stir in the air. I was still moving.

The view forward, and some detail of the boom attachment. The sprit is rigged the same way with a lanyard led through a padeye, then made off to a cleat.

This guy’s doing what I hate. I just don’t like being up there. He’s recently had his rig down for maintenance on his big charter schooner, and now (I think) he’s rigging and adjusting the triadic stay.

I think you can see the details of his bosun’s seat in this photo. It looks like a plank rigged with three-strand and a tool bag at the side. It looks like he’s also wearing a safety harness made up from three-strand. None of this makes me uncomfortable, except that he has shackled – not tied – his seat and harness. I wouldn’t trust a shackle like that. I’ve seen photos of Larry Pardey using a bosun’s seat similar to this one.

Here’s a photo of the boat and rig.

Another schooner yacht at Herrington North. This a fairly new wooden boat, and a fairly new tenant in the marina. I haven’t seen her under sail yet.

Close-up of some detail – deadeye rigging, teak decks. Really beautiful, understated topsides paint color scheme.

s/v Thalia. I would love to have a ride on her.

View at the head of the creek. It gets very shallow (inches, really) up here.

I made it almost to the head of the pool at the end of the creek, but the water became too shallow, even for Sea Minor which only draws a few inches. I had to unship the tiller and center board up here. On the return, a down-wind leg, I unbrailed the sail and let out the sheet, steering with one oar trailing from its oarlock. Even then I stirred up the muddy bottom.  Finally in deeper water again, I shipped the tiller and daggerboard and negotiated the flukey breezes again. After a 160 degree turn back up Rockhold Creek, I tacked 8-10 times to get back to my marina. Fun! Exploring in small boats is so satisfying. It makes me want to build another small sailboat that sails a bit better than  Sea Minor.  She’s got such a short waterline, and her sail area is so small for safety’s sake – it takes a good breeze to get her moving well. Still, she’s the perfect yacht tender for us. As with cruising boats, everything about a dinghy is a trade-off of one sort or another. Sea Minor rows extremely well, is not a bad sailor, puts up with a lot of neglect and abuse, and is fairly stable for a hard dinghy. I’m happy with her as she is.