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Our 2-week circumnavigation of Vancouver Island on Tim Melville’s Baltic 42 may have been a tad disappointing due to a total lack of wind. but we did learn a ton of stuff that should help us in our own adventure. Some of it is pretty obvious and some is just knowledge we already had but needed to actually experience.

Stowage

6 people on a boat for 2 weeks with no shore leave and no real stops changes how you approach galleys and storage. We tend to maintain an impeccable galley with everything stowed out of sight and away. But Donna didn’t have that privilege with so many supplies. Instead laundry baskets and containers were often left out but wedged in tightly to prevent movement. Every nook and cranny in Baltic had something in it and was arranged for maximum efficiency. This is definitely something we are going to have to work at.

Preventers

I’ve read a lot about preventers, but never had the opportunity to rig one. It was actually pretty simple. A preventer is simply a method of preventing the boom from swinging (crashing really) back towards the boat when it has been let out. Many of the systems I had read about were complex and involved running lines forward through blocks and back to the cockpit. But on the Northern Passage it was a simple as tying off a line from the end of the boom to the toerail. The downside with this simplified system is you had to go out on deck to tack or drop the sails. But given the light winds (when there was wind) it wasn’t an issue.

Spinnakers

We got the spinnaker up  on one of the days. It was a full symmetrical and a real beauty. But it was a pain to get up, a pain to sail with and a pain to get down. I can see how an asymmetrical or even a gennaker would be a much better investment.

The issue is that with a loose foot, you need to pole it out and the pole, baby stay and forestay all had to play nice.  Then it became extremely important to maintain a course relative to the wind so it wouldn’t collapse; which meant that your actual heading was less important than where the wind shifted to.. On top of that, it’s a huge sail and managing it with less than the 4 we had would have taken a lot of practice and technique. But it was fun while it lasted.

Wing on wing

So instead of the spinnaker, we generally ran wing-on-wing downwind. So much easier when you have a preventer rigged and the winds are holding steady. Those two little things made the whole exercise a whole lot more comfortable than the awkward attempts we have previously made.

Close hauled vs beam reach

They say a  broad reach (running 90° to the wind) is the fastest point of sail. But close hauled (running about 30° to the wind—as close as you can get) always seems a lot faster. That’s because you are generally heeled over and the waves are screaming by 6 inches from your ass. What they also say and I never quite internalized is that not only is beam reach (or better yet a broad reach) faster, it is also way more comfortable. It really is. We would be sailing along on a broad reach with a following sea and it felt like we were standing still. But we were actually zooming along at over 6 knots.

But that also makes it more dangerous as you can be way over-canvassed without necessarily realizing it, as the effects of the wind are much less noticeable.

Crab traps

I’ve always disliked crab traps. The ones cluttering up the ocean, not the idea of crab traps themselves, but now I have a positive hate on for them. During the trip we had tons of close calls, especially at night but it was when I ran over one that had a tiny, dirt-encrusted float and wrapped it around the rudder that I got mad. This was a commercial trap—which are huge—and the weight of it brought our boat to a standstill. Luckily it was only around the rudder and we were able to cut it free. But with a bit more bad luck it could have wrapped itself around the propellor shaft and that might of meant having to dive to cut it free.

I am now a huge fan of introducing some legislation making them use big orange floats. Stupid crab traps.

Steamed oysters

And finally steamed oysters. I have learned to really enjoy raw oysters since our first foray two years ago, but every time I have tried them cooked it has left a bad taste in my mouth — literally. But when Tim et al. collected a bunch in the Broken Group we popped them on the BBQ and steam cooked them. A bit of garlic butter and they were scumpdillyicious!

~~~

Hopefully there tons more things for us to learn. But for now, we are just a few days from casting off and the waiting is killing us.

 

Finally in possession of our boat, we had a date on Thetis Island to attend the 2015 Hunter Rendezvous at Telegraph Cove. This 4 day event is hosted by the broker we bought our boat from, Specialty Yachts. For those of you not “in the know,” a rendezvous is a bit like a car meet where owners of certain brands of boats gather to hang out in one place. This affords everyone an opportunity to snoop on one another’s boats, learn new things and generally make the acquaintance of like-minded people.

This year’s Hunter Rendezvous consisted of 85 boats and well over 200 people. The boats ranged from some smaller ones in the high 20-foot range to a few 50’s. There were a few brand new boats to tour and the oldest I saw was from the mid-80s. Suffice it to say there were a lot of boats and we got to wander through a few.

Back at the Beginning

We cast off at Poet’s Cove after filling the fuel tank and headed north. The plan was to grab some supplies at Chemainus and then scoot over to Thetis Island a day early to avoid the potential embarrassment of having to dock a new-to-me boat in front of a crowd.

The wind had shifted (of course) and we were still going pretty much straight into it. So we motored along and played with as much of the boat’s features as possible. This meant mostly running out the foresail and main every time the wind shifted and zooming in and out the chart plotter.

Eventually we turned westerly between Kuper Island and the northern tip of Saltspring and managed to sail for 5 whole minutes. Then we called ahead to Harmon, who is the wharfinger at Chemainus to see if he had room for an hour or so. He said he could probably fit us in but was expecting a big 60-footer so we might be pressed for time.

In the end we tied up on the outside by the ferry and trooped up the hill to 49th Parallel grocery. Unfortunately it seems that since we were here two years ago they had built another location more in the center of town and the remnants were more like a bad cross between a 7-11 and a Home Hardware. Pickings were slim and we were mindful of Harmon’s time frame so did the best we could and headed back to the dock.

We stopped to chat about the sad state of grocery affairs with Harmon on the way down the finger. He was actually a bit worried. Chemainus is a popular stop for resupply with boats being able to stop for 20 minutes or so and grab groceries. Now they were going to have to go into town and that 20 minutes was likely to stretch to an hour or more. He didn’t think he could reasonably let people tie up for that long.

But since his big yacht was still MIA he let us dump our groceries and head back into town for some beer and wine. In case you haven’t figured it out, Harmon is a great guy.

Hunter Rendezvous 2015

A short motor across Stuart Channel and we were backing into a berth at the nearly empty Telegraph Harbour Marina. Being early snagged us a coveted stern-in spot on the main dock. It also meant we were there for the duration because by the time the weekend was i full swing there were boats crammed in like sardines. And as a bonus we got some Hunter flags to run up our topping lift for the duration.

Then it was chore time. I unshipped the dinghy and filled her up with air. There is a slow leak somewhere, but a half an hour with soapy water failed to reveal its location. We also dismantled the BBQ and started scraping and degreasing. It had been put away last fall without a cleaning and was mouldy and disgusting. We made a mess and ruined a couple of washclothes and sponges, but finally it was spic and span.

Next up was a start on removing the lettering from the boat. I still harboured hopes of renaming her on this trip, but first the old name had to go. I started on the transom and the city name came off pretty easily, so I optimistically moved on to the name on the stern.

Removing vinyl

Before leaving Edmonton I had done some research. Seems the easiest way to remove vinyl is with heat. But since I knew I wouldn’t have access to a heat gun or even a blow dryer I needed another solution. What I came up with was this: Vinyl-Off. This was a spray-on product that supposedly penetrates the vinyl and the glue and allows you to peel off the letters easily. Well it worked pretty good on the transom’s city name but when I tried it on the boat name it didn’t work as well. And when moved next to the side of the boat things got harder. I don’t know if this was older vinyl or perhaps the location had made it more vulnerable to the harsh elements but the going suddenly got bad. The vinyl came off in bits and the glue remained stuck to the gelcoat.

I also got frustrated and started using more of the Vinyl-Off (specifically advised against by the instructions) and the vinyl itself started to dissolve leaving a blue smear across the gelcoat. I don’t think it helped that I was also working in the shade (but given the temperature was approaching the high 20s, I wasn’t about to try working in the sun).

Eventually Barry from the Hunter 376 (I totally have forgotten the name of his boat) directly in front of me took pity on me and lent me his “plastic” razors, a cool scraping tool that allowed me to go to town on both the vinyl and the glue residue without marring the surface. The job took a couple of hours of lying on my side on the dock, but eventually I was done and you could see only the faintest ghosting from the sun. Good enough.

Sadly by this time, another 376 had tied up to our starboard side and I couldn’t access the lettering on that side. So that put paid to that job, which was a good thing because I really needed a beer. So no renaming this weekend.

The Weekend

It was a great weekend and I am glad we went. The social aspects were largely informal and low-pressure: a few happy hours, dinners and some music and dancing on two evenings. But it was all out in the open and everyone was free to wander and enjoy as it suited them. The off times consisted of lots of walking the docks and everyone was super friendly. Expect I guess given the nature of the event. All you had to do was ask one question and likely you would be invited aboard for a tour. Leslie and I failed at this on our own boat, but we really weren’t prepared for visitors and were still getting into the swing of the event. Next year.

There were also seminars. I attended one on Green Boating which discussed the impact of boaters on the environment and how to minimize damage to sensitive habitats. Cleaners can be nasty stuff. There was also great one on a roller furling Gennaker system and another on tuning your rig. Not things I am about to use but good to  have a basic introduction to.

I made Leslie attend the one on diesel engines. I figured since neither of us knew anything about it two brains would learn twice as much. Well, we still don’t know much, but it was good to listen others and to learn about to potential issues and basic gotchas. Ben Cook from Stem to Stern gave the talk and I tried to book some time with him afterwards but he had to leave much too soon for him to make it around to everyone who wanted his attention.

I also made Leslie attend the one on Espar heaters. We have a Webasto, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. Again, it was a lot of information, but I think we gleaned a few  tidbits about the care and feeding of our heating system.

  

The Race

Other than that, there were a few social type events. We skipped the scavenger hunt and the  pajama yoga. It was so hot I don’t think I would have survived the hunt and the young ones were chewing up the event with their youthful lack of oldness. But since we had come all the way and didn’t want to be too stick-in-the-mud, I figured we should try the blindfolded dinghy race. I took Laughing Baby (to be) out to give her a spin and see how she handled. She tracked well, the oars were in a good position and I figured since I could row a fairly straight course with my eyes closed, we might have a chance. Couple that with the fact we were below the average age  by a big margin and I decided we had an opportunity to make C proud and “win & crush.”

Anyway the appointed hour arrived and Leslie and I settled in dockside. The temperature was high and there was a strong crosswind so the competition was pretty small. I think there were only 6 or 7 boats in total. The biggest competition was going to be the young kids, but they had a pretty small (thus slow) dinghy, and the older couple in the lovely rowing skiff which you knew was going to go like hell. The race was straight out, around a moored trawler and then straight back, but as I said there was a strong crosswind we would have to compensate for. Lawrence counted us down through his megaphone and we were off and rowing to the cheers of the crowd.

In very little time Leslie was signalling me to start my turn (we had worked out a system where she would tap my knee rather than yelling right or left—I don’t actually know my left from my right). Then all of the sudden she was warning me about another boat and for a few minutes we were tangled up with oars banging and hulls scraping. An interesting experience when you are blindfolded. Then just as suddenly we were free and making the last turn back to the dock.

It seems the skiff had taken off like a shot and left us all in the metaphorical dust. But as they rounded the boat and were hidden from view, they had broken and oar and stalled. We ran straight into them. But after we freed ourselves from the tangle they were stranded and helpless and we were in the lead. We simply had to avoid the anchor rodes and docking lines as we rowed upwind and moments later we bumped into the dock in first place.

The comic relief came when, as I was sitting on my wooden seat with my blindfold still on and breathing heavily, the seat suddenly broke and I landed on my ass on the floor of the dinghy. Laughing, I rolled onto my back and lay there giggling to myself. But, while it was funny to me (and I assume Leslie) all the people on the dock saw was a man who had over-exerted himself in the heat, fall back, hit his head and then not get up. A bit of reassurance was necessary.

Finale

The final evening had another delicious meal (a pig and beef BBQ roast) and some prizes. Leslie and I won a 5 gallon bucket loaded with boat care products for our triumph in the dinghy race. Bilge cleaner, boat wax, fibreglass cleaner, vinyl protector, sponges and more… all things we needed. Great prize for us. I have a feeling it was cherry-picked.

Afterwards there was a general draw. Apparently there were enough prizes for everyone. Up for grabs were such great prizes like Sea-B-Qs, hand held VHFs, and we scored a folding seat. These things are worth around a hundred bucks and I had just been coveting one earlier int eh weekend. Awesome.

It was a great trip and we met some great people. I tried to keep track of everyone as best I could but I am so bad with names. I jotted down as many as I could as I learned them; here isa sampling some of the people (and boats) we met and spent some time chatting to:

Geoff (from Wales) Welsh Dragon Hunter 320
John Laing Spiritus II  Legend 40
Dave and Brett Capricorn Hunter 36
Ian and Linda Passion Hunter 356
Carson & Janet Island Dreamer I Passage 43
Rick and Karine (with a French accent) Lotus Hunter 40
Barry & Kathy Funk  (I forgot to write down the boat name…sigh) Hunter 376

The only other thing of note occurred when we met Dave and Brett from Capricorn; they had mentioned that they had initially wanted to look at Rainbow Hunter when it was up for sale. Lawrence had mentioned the first time talked that he had potential buyers “flying in from Ontario” to see the boat. Well it turns out that it was Dave and Brett he had been talking about. Since we snagged Rainbow Hunter right away, they eventually settled on a slightly smaller boat and were now also experiencing their maiden voyages.

Casting off

Sunday morning came around and the docks started emptying in a mass exodus of Hunters. I fired up the diesel with the intention of hitting the gas dock before we left. But when I checked it was occupied and it looked like the big Carver power boat was queued up next. So I headed back to the boat to cast off.

When I got back Lawrence was there and warned me against leaving the boat in idle at such a debris-filled berth. He said that with so much crap in the water it was more likely that something could get sucked into the raw water intake and cause a blockage. His advice was to back it up against the dock and leave it in reverse. That way the prop wash would keep the debris clear. I don’t know if this was prophetic or not but…

As we exited the harbour I started revving up the diesel. All the material that had been left in the boat, indeed even a small label over the tachometer, said not to exceed 2400 rpms. At this point we hadn’t. But I believed, based on my limited reading, that this was too low for a cruising speed. And one of the questions posed to Ben at the diesel seminar had elicited the response that you should run your diesel full-out for a limited period every once in a while, especially if you generally ran it at lower speeds. Cruising speed should then be noted at around 80% of full rpm.

So I ran the engine full out to around 3500 rpm and we started motoring along at a good clip. Right off the bat a puff of blackish smoke came from the exhaust as we blew out some of the carbon accumulation. But, after less than 5 minutes passed, alarms started shrieking. It took me a few seconds, but I finally realized it was the idiot lights on the binnacle (I hate idiot lights), and a few more seconds to equate the alarm with revs and with overheating. I shut down the engine. There was a bit of a breeze, so we hastily unfurled the jib and set a course out into the channel. Then I went down and checked the raw water intake. It seemed like water was coming in and I cleaned the scum from the filter but there were no major obstructions apparent. I fired up the engine again but the alarm was still going. I did note that water was indeed coming from the exhaust though so the intake couldn’t be completely blocked. I shut it down again and called Lawrence’s cell and left a brief message detailing the events. In the worse case scenario there was tons of help just around the corner.

As it turns out we sailed on the jib for about 15 minutes and then tried the diesel again. All good. No alarm and no obvious issues. I called Lawrence and left another message. Then we altered course towards our destination and waited. Another 15 minutes passed and the engine ran fine at 2800 rpm, so since the wind was up, we shut the engine down and raised some sails. It was a great beam reach and we sailed all the way to Ruxton Passage by Decourcey Island. We hit close to 6.5 knots at one point. Our first big sail. W00t!

Pirates Cove & Degnen Bay

We stern tied at Pirates Cove for the night. There was a cross breeze so it took some wrestling to get the boat stern in but we managed.  Then rowed ashore and hiked a bit in the park there. We also chatted with a few fellow boaters (one couple had also just left the Rendezvous) and enjoyed a nice rain, which was great after the last few days oppressive heat. I like the full enclosure. It makes the cockpit a nice place to hang.

The next morning we called Tim Melville on Gabriola and invited ourselves over. Exiting the cove we tried to sail but the wind just wasn’t there for us and we gave up after about 20 minutes of doing 2 knots. Twenty minutes later we hit Degnen Bay and swung around and  there was Tim to help us raft up to Northern Passage on his docks.

He got a tour of the boat and we chatted about a few of the systems. He even helped me tighten up our stuffing box which was leaking a bit too much. (The stuffing box is the place where the propellor shaft exits the boat. It is meant to leak a little bit to help with lubrication but ours was leaking a bit too much.) Afterwards he headed back up to the house to do some chores and we followed to say hi to Donna. Greetings done and an invitation to dinner extended and accepted, we headed back to the boat to relax for the rest of the day.

I wanted to try the outboard since we hadn’t had an opportunity at Telegraph Harbour so we dropped it down onto the boat using the handy motor hoist and fired it up. Ran great. Leslie and I grabbed our life jackets and went for a tour of the bay.

The 8-horse gets the dinghy up on a plane pretty quickly and top speed it is a bit faster than I am likely to be comfortable with, so it looks like we have a winning combination. Now all we need to do is officially christen her and we are set.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon in the dinghy with my feet dangling in the cool water stripping the vinyl off the starboard side. A couple of hours effort and I finally mastered the technique on the third or fourth last letter. Isn’t that always the way. But I am set if I ever have to do it again.

Dinner was great. A cold Corona and some homemade wine with a spectacular view of the bay. And great company. A nice way to end out trip to the Gulf Islands. Tomorrow we were off through Gabriola Passage on a 9:30 slack and then across the Strait to Vancouver.

Home?

Next morning Tim and Donna came down to see us off and we set out on the last leg of our maiden voyage. The winds were forecast as 0-5 knots so it looked like we were going to be motoring across the Strait. And we did. 4 hours later we motored into English Bay and started manoeuvring through tankers, day sailers and boats heading out.

We were supposed to head (finally) for our berth at Mosquito Creek. We had shelled out over $2000 for the privilege of using it and to this point the boat had never actually occupied its slot. But when I called Lawrence to tell him we were heading there he instead directed me to come back to Granville Island and  said he would give us a few days free moorage and move the boat himself later. Turns out he had to rush off to an Xray and couldn’t make it to Mosquito Creek to show us our berth.

So we fuelled up under Granville Bridge and headed for Specialty’s docks. We tied up alongside a new Hunter 36 and that was that. Sarah the service manger came down to finish a talk we had begun back at the Rendezvous and she agreed to check the batteries, wind indicator and AIS system while the boat was still at Granville. And to look into the overheat.

That night we tried out the BBQ on some jumbo dogs and it worked pretty damn good. Then it was packing up and hitting the sack as we had to be at the airport pretty early.

Conclusions

Well all-in-all it was a pretty damn good shakedown cruise. We discovered a few deficiencies, learned a few habits of the boat (although there was never enough sailing time) and had a great time at the Rendezvous. We would do it again if the opportunity arose. But now it is back to Edmonton and work for a few more weeks before the real adventure begins.

The keystone to our plan for 2015-16 was the idea that we could overwinter in Victoria.  If we could find a comfortable place to stay when the weather turned cool, well then who needs the tropic eh? The winter climate in Victoria is supposed to be the best on the West Coast, it’s a small, walking city, Leslie and I have a fond history with the city and it has a university with all the academic accoutrements so Leslie can get some work done. So I set out to find what the liveaboard options for Victoria were.

And of course, the Inner Harbour is right downtown.

There are two main options. Both the GVHA (Greater Victoria Harbour Association) and The Coast Victoria Harbourside Hotel & Marina offer packages with their off-season moorages. There are a few more liveaboard options like West Bay on the other side of the harbour or a few up in Sydney but they are farther away and don’t offer any particular off-season packages.

The Coast Victoria Harbourside Hotel & Marina

The Coast has a fairly small marina just west of Laurel Point. They offer 7-month package from October 1st to April 30th at $13.45/foot. So at 39′, Never for Ever would cost $524.55/month or a total of $3671.85. This includes power and the hotel amenities like shower, pool and exercise room. It’s a bit of a walk downtown, but they offer a shuttle and still well within walking distance. But we would have to be gone by the end of April.

Contacting them was a bit of an issue since there is not clear contact info on the website and I ended having to go through central booking. But eventually I got in contact with Josh who is their marina manager. When I contacted him back in March there was already a waiting list so I signed up right away, before we had even settled on a boat. This marina was my preferred choice but the waiting list makes me nervous.

We stopped in to see him when we were there in late May but he seems to only work from 3pm onward so I have only had a few brief email exchanges..

Josh Ramsdale
j.ramsdale@coasthotels.com
or call the front desk 250-360-1211
Website

GVHA

The Great Victoria Inner Harbour Association has 4 main marinas. FIsherman’s Wharf is just west of the Coast and offers berths for commercial fisherman and year-round liveaboards. The Causeway is directly in front of the Empress Hotel, Ship Point is the long straight dock just north and is mostly reserved for bigger boats like luxury yachts and Wharf Street which is a bit more north again, just after the seaplane base. The last three all have low-season options.

Causeway and the Empress

Causeway from the street

GVHA offers a Low Season Moorage 8-month package from October 1 to June 20th. 30’–44′ boats are charged at $8.45/foot which is $329.55 /month. Power is extra (30amps is $70/month) and there is a $104/month liveaboard fee for a total of $503.55/month and $4044.40 for the whole 8 months.

There are showers right near Wharf Street with washers and driers and you are literally right downtown. Wharf Street would be our preference of GVHA’s offerings with proximity to everything, a locked gate and away from the tourist bustle of the Causeway. The only downside is the seaplanes if that sort of noise bothers you (it doesn’t bother me). They also offer a free pumpout service — a small boat that comes around once a week and pumps out your holding tanks.

The GVHA doesn’t take new applications until the end of May. They give their current customers until mid May to renew and then start in on the new applications, so although I had contacted them originally in March, we have had to wait to apply.

Wharf Street

Taris Walter (Marina Services Administrative Assistant)
TWalter@gvha.ca
250-383-8326
www.gvha.ca

Rates in General

For comparison purposes the GVHA’s year-round rate is $12.70/foot (with all the extra fees as well) and transient moorage is $28.80/foot so the $8.45 rate is pretty good. Vancouver moorages can run upwards of $13 even without liveaboard privileges. Blaine, Washington’s annual moorage is around $7.80 foot (usd) so you can see it doesn’t cost all that much to be living in the center of everything.

Ship Point

Where are we now?

Well, we stopped in Victoria on our way home from our Circumnavigation and visited the Coast and the GVHA. The Coast still looks like a great option, but unfortunately Josh wasn’t there to talk to about the state of the waiting list. On the other hand, when we arrived at the GVHA office, Taris was right in the middle of working on the lists. I mean we could see her actually working on the dock layouts.

So we asked a few questions and then applied on the spot. At Wharf Street, there were openings on the outside of D-dock and the inside of C-dock. During our stay there a few days earlier aboard the Northwest Passage we had rafted up to a boat on the inside of C-dock and it seemed nice so we (I) picked there. We answered a bunch of questions and voila, we had a berth pending a successful application. Once our application was accepted we would be on the hook for a cancelation fee but up until then we would be free to cancel anytime. Leslie really like this spot and actually prefers it over the Coast Harbourside so cancelling now seems unlikely.

This lovely pilothouse is almost exactly where our tentative berth is.

The Process

A few days after we got back from our trip, I got an email from Taris and the GVHA:

Good Afternoon,

We are pleased to announce that there is space to accommodate you in our 2015-16 Low Season Program, pending approval of your moorage application. In order to submit a moorage application we require the following documentation:

• Proof of Ownership (Bill of Sale)
  Proof of Registration
• Proof of current insurance:
  Minimum $2 million protection & indemnity (liability)
  GVHA must be named as an additional insured OR, we require a letter of undertaking from your insurer (see below)
• Two photos of your vessel : One of side, one of stern
• Two References:
  One professional (preferably from a previous marina)
  One personal (not a family member)
  *Note: this can be a letter of reference OR contact information for your reference

Once we have received this documentation, and approved moorage, I will send you a moorage agreement, and we will process a security deposit in the amount of one month of moorage to secure your slip. Also at this time we require that GVHA be named as an additional insured OR a letter of undertaking provided from your insurer. This ensures that GVHA is notified of any policy changes or cancellation.

Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns; we look forward to having you with us next fall!

So now I am in the process of collecting the documentation and will hopefully fire it off in a short while. The only outstanding thing is the photos and I suppose I can use old ones and photoshop out the old name.

We are really excited and this confirmation is another worry lifted from our shoulders. Now we just have to actually start the trip.

We just completed a circumnavigation of Vancouver Island aboard Tim Melville’s Baltic 42. This is something he has done the last couple of years with his wife Donna as crew and cook and a select few, paying passengers/students. It’s a whirlwind trip around the island done in only two weeks. We had booked the trip well before *Never Forever* came into the picture and while I might cringe slightly at the cost now that I have a boat of my own, I learned a tremendous amount that will serve me long into the future.

You can read a day-by-day account in my blog (macblaze.ca) but I thought I would sum up the more boat-ownership type details here for posterity.

The relationship between captain and crew

I’m not really captain material. In fact Leslie has more leadership skills (kind of obvious given her experience). With just the two (or three…sigh) of us it is no big deal, but it gets important when a coordinated effort among new crew is necessary. Things like tacking and gybing can be done half-heartedly in most scenarios but docking at night or in crowded situations, keeping a lookout, reefing etc. all work better and safer if the responsibilities and relationships are clear. And that takes communication. And good communication, much to my chagrin takes a reasonable amount of leadership. You need to clearly and effectively outline goals, tasks, responsibilities and outcomes before you start, not trust that it will all come together. This is a flaw in my leadership style I have always known, but on a boat, the potential outcomes of my laissez faire, come-what-may, we’ll-deal-with-it-later style becomes a bit scary.

But I did score well on the “not getting too excited” side. While my inside voice may have said jesus-muther-f8ckin-christ more than once, I don’t think it slipped out even in my demeanour. Or maybe I am fooling myself.

Diesel engines

Diesel engines are simple. They say they need only two things: fuel and air. Having said that there seem to be a lot of ways that those two simple things can be a problem.

We ran out of fuel by accident; we had switched to the small tank and forgot to switch back. This meant the old Perkins needed to be reprimed which entailed opening valves all along the fuel system and bleeding the air out of the fuel lines. If that sounds complicated, well it was. At least on a Perkins. The key factor we learned was that once you get to the the other side of the injector pump you are in a high pressure system and you need to crank the engine to force the air out; there was simply no way to do that by hand. And if you have run your battery down by trying to start it before the injectors are bled, well, you should thank your lucky stars you are a sailboat. It didn’t get that far with us and after a lot of consultation we got the system bled and the motor restarted but still…

The spring that reset the shutoff solenoid also broke at one point. This meant when we went to start the motor the next morning it wouldn’t. Tim traced all the systems until he reached the broken spring. It hadn’t disengaged the shut off solenoid and so no fuel was reaching the engine. a manual reset, a pair of pliers and some wire bending and it was good to go. Simple, if  you can find it.

Tim had also recently replaced his 55 amp alternator with a 100 amp Balmar. It was 100 amps because that is all the single v-belt on his engine could handle. In reality, with 6 people aboard and a lot of power use  it turns out the single belt couldn’t handle it. The alternator’s regulator would demand all the power the alternator could churn out right on start up and the belt was slipping or wearing or something until it finally gave up. As a result we ended up blowing the belt. The big deal there was Tim’s spares were all for the old alternator, which with much effort he was able to make use of until we hit a town with spares.

A later phone called revealed a belt saving setting that controlled the load that the regulator demanded upon start up. Things worked better after that and we eventually switch back to the original spec belt.

Since I also want to add a 100 amp alternator, this is good stuff to know. The other solution is to change out the pulleys and use a serpentine belt that is better able to handle the load. This of course adds big $$ to the project.

Sail repair

Most boats I have sailed on came with a sail repair kit, at a minimum some sail tape but sometimes thread, awls, palms (big leather thimbles for your palm) and glue. The genoa’s leech was rubbing on something — although it simply could have been the horrible way his beginner crew were treating the poor foresail — and the stitching around the leech line had started to go midway up. We dropped the sail and performed a tape job to put it back into shape for the rest of the voyage, but Tim’s said it need the tender ministrations of a sail loft as soon as we got back.

So I guess all that’s all stuff I will need to add to the list.

Tows

R Shack Island has had an odd issue with her racor (fuel filter) for a couple of seasons and Dave has told me stories of all the times she has needed a tow back to the docks. It never really struck me how terrifying that must be until we also needed a tow after running out of fuel. Luckily we were towed to the fuel dock at Blind Channel which is out in the open. The tow boat just swung around like a ski boat and let us loose. Our speed was a bit high but there were quality people on the dock to catch the stern line and get a few wraps to bring us to a halt before we had to bail or hit something.

Not a skill I want to practice but I am beginning to believe it’s not an uncommon one amongst sailors.

Rapids & tides

Take them seriously. But not too seriously. If you are going with the tide, tidal rapids of up to 5 or 6 knots are not actually as scary as all that. Or at least some of them aren’t. Up until this trip I have been meticulous about avoiding current except the few times Tim has been with us. But now his respectfully cavalier attitude is beginning to rub off; a current isn’t always your enemy if you give it the right amount of respect.

 Check the tables, know your currents, access the risks and then enjoy the ride.

Keel depth and scope

Northwest Passage had an eight-foot keel. Eight feet plus four feet to the bowroller added twelve feet right off the top to any scope we were allowing for when anchoring. With a 5:1 scope in 20 feet of water that meant we needed 160 feet of rode out. But since a lot of the anchorages were small and the rode was all chain we often left it at 40 meters (130 feet) or less. Chain counts for a lot.

Charts vs chart plotters

It’s official: I like charts. I like north-up. And I like to know where I am. At one point Tim turned off the chart plotter for the rest of a leg and I was 100% more comfortable with the whole process. A chartplotter has too many toys and lulls you into relying solely on it. In fact I think it makes using a chart harder. I am much more comfortable relating the chart to what I see around me than trying to interpret the pixels on a small 6-inch screen. And when sailing around in a fog, tacking back and forth, using course-up gives you no sense of heading or any deviation; the chart plotter is continually spinning. At least (to me) north-up relates to the psuedo-reality of the familar map/chart system.

No one else on the trip agreed with me, although Tim was a big advocate of using the charts for practice. The chartplotter is great, essential even, for negotiating narrow or rock-filled channels in low visibility, but I continually felt without having studied the route on paper, I was still flying blind. Personal preference I guess, but I will stick with the old technology and use the new as a back-up.

Swell and Fog and Night

Ocean swell is a thing. Even with no wind and no waves we were often rising and falling 10 feet in sets of 2 or 3 with smaller swells in between. Depending on what the orientation of the boat to the swell was, this could range from being hardly noticeable to downright uncomfortable. Following seas were definitely the most enjoyable. It also affected visibility in some interesting ways.

Fog is both no big deal and a huge big deal. Going slow, using the light and sound signals and a constant eye on the chart plotter, AIS and radar makes fog a snap. Of course that’s if there are no other small boats out there. They are the wild card because they won’t have AIS, might not make a big blip on the radar and might or might not be sounding their signal. Exciting stuff that keeps you on your toes.

 

The other thing about fog and about sailing at night is that it is four bazillion times as hard to keep a steady course and so very easy to go off it slightly without noticing. One day in the fog I was sailing according to a shifting wind and ended up pointing a completely other direction than I thought I was. If the chartplotter is zoomed in too much or zoomed out to much it is easy to miss the long slow curve. Maintaining a course was easier at night because we were more paranoid and there was the occasional light showing to orient yourself to; just be careful it it isn’t a ship that is also moving.

And docking at night in a strange harbour is a whole ‘nother thing that must be experienced. A powerful light used sparingly so as not to destroy night vision and an attentive crew are musts.

Keeping a watch

In the Gulf Islands it is really important to keep a good watch as there are logs and crab traps everywhere. Keeping a watch at night is more of a crap shoot and I guess you just pray you miss things. Going back to my first point, you would think a crew of six would be able to miss everything, but with all the distractions involved, if there are no clear instructions to keep watch or sing out when you spot something, the risk of hitting something goes up a lot.

Luckily for us, when I did finally run over a crab pot, the engine wasn’t running and the line only tangled around the rudder which we were able to eventually discern and thus confidently cut the line, freeing ourselves. But in retrospect that incident and some of the other near misses are borderline unforgivable. Still, if you listen to the stories, it happens to everyone eventually.

And so…

I realize two things now that perhaps weren’t as clear before our trip. First, I have a lot to learn about the details. There is minutiae that can make the difference between a confident decision and wild-ass guess work and not knowing a crucial fact can turn an oops into a disaster pretty damn quickly. The second is that I know a lot. The trick, it seems to me, to learning the minutiae is to already know the broad strokes and then refine and repeat over a lifetime of experiencing. Every time I go sailing I cut a wider swath through my ignorance and the small things then come as they may. I will never know everything — Tim certainly didn’t and he has decades on me — but eventually I  might get to his level where I might be able to figure out just about anything the boat throws at me.

I am sure there will be times in the next year I will be absolutely terrified and lost, but this trip has filled out my tool kit a bit and hopefully I will be able to work through whatever the fates (or my own stupidity) has in store.

Although we still haven’t technically taken possession of our new boat, since we were stopping in Vancouver overnight anyway we decided to see if we could stay aboard Rainbow Hunter (which is what she is still called until we can go through some sort of renaming ceremony). We checked with Lawrence and he said sure.

We are in Vancouver on our way to join Tim and Donna Melville to sail around Vancouver Island on their Baltic 42. Hop over to macblaze.ca to read the ongoing report.

This was Leslie’s first actual experience with our new boat. But after 2 days of traveling and negotiating Vancouver traffic and then facing Granville Island on a gorgeous Mother’s Day stuffed full of people, we were a bit frazzled.  So I’m not sure there was any immediate emotional response one way or another. But she didn’t frown so that was good.

Lawrence (our broker) was off on a sea trial so we got someone else to open up the cabin and we snooped around a bit. I found the DVD player that the surveyor had noted but no one else had seen. We read through the old charter manual and generally tried to look like we belonged with little success. Finally we gave up and skipped out for lunch just as Lawrence was coming in, leaving him with a promise to catch up with him after we were sated.

Unfortunately fighting the crowds did little to calm our nerves, but even so we eventually convened back on the boat and Lawrence went over the progress. The water heater had been repaired, most of the rigging done and the Yanmar guys were due Monday.  The webasto guy had the parts but no time so that was starting to look like June. The lift also hadn’t been scheduled yet so that was likely June as well.

We ok’d the bottom paint and discussed the leaky hatch in the head. I was inclined to live with it. After all it was leaking in the room with the drains. But we talked it over and Lawrence invoked the possibility of the water making its way into the core, which is kind of a sailboat bogeyman. So I caved. I’m actually pretty afraid of that particular bogeyman.  That settled, we discussed moving the boat to Mosquito Creek and potential dates for the official transfer. Since we are coming out for the Hunter Rendezvous in June it’s likely we will just come out a few days early and do it then. After that Lawrence turned over the keys to their washroom and the marina gates. He also lent us his parking pass so we could save a few bucks. Then he bid adieu and attempted to escape to his own Mother’s Day proceedings.

So Leslie and I moved the truck and picked up a chilled bottle of Riesling at Liberty Wines and sat back to try and unwind. We broke out the cockpit cushions, a couple of wine glasses and some of John’s oatmeal cookies and broke in our new boat.

The massive binnacle on the 386 is not a plus in my mind, but there’s lots of space to sprawl out and it’s pretty comfortable. We flipped up one wing of the table which should be good enough when there is only two of us.

I’m still puzzled by the mesh sides in the enclosure, but I am guessing Larry (the previous owner) had it done for his Alaska trip to keep the bugs out. But it’s definitely something we will have to do something about before winter. The forward side panels are also a bit awkward since they come back almost to the arch and exiting the cockpit into the side deck is difficult unless they are half undone. No problem when we are stern-in but a bit of an issue if we are exiting or boarding  over the side.

The cabin, which is pretty spacious looked cramped and crowded with all our stuff piled willynilly. We’d brought some pillows and an afghan as well as some sheets. Leslie made up the bed and I tried reorganizing. I guess we’re going to have to learn to put things away. It’s amazing how so little clutter can change the nature of a small space. Something to remember.

Then we went off to dinner. We hit the washrooms in the way back and bumbled off the walls of the boat for a while as the sun set. The water tank was full so I fired up the waterheater and decided to have a shower. We spent some time searching the head for the switch for the shower sump. The manual insisted it was by the bathroom sink but neither I nor Leslie could find it. Eventually I pulled some floor up and found the pump. By running some water down the drain I figured out the sump was on a float switch, so as long as the breaker was on the pump would automatically run. Cool.

Then we hit the huge berth in the aft cabin to crash for the night. My only complaint is that the only lights (out of more lights than you can shake a 10′ pole at) that are useful for reading are way out of reach from anything other than an upright position. Although we have a bad habit of sleeping with lights on, this will be a non-starter when trying to conserve batteries.

Sleep was elusive, between squeaky fenders and too much tension, but we were warm and comfy. That cabin is a great luxury.

Morning had me figuring out the propane system and boiling some water for tea while L tried out the shower. Then we packed up and clicked off all the breakers before disembarking.  See you later.

It was a good first night. And it’s good to learn in small bits. Now we just need to actually leave the dock. I guess that’ll be June.

 

Boat ownership has, so far, been an exercise in patience. Actually from what ‘little’ I know of it, boating should always be such an exercise. There is apparently a cruiser’s saying that goes “The most dangerous thing in cruising is a schedule.” This refers to the fact that heading out on a day with iffy conditions or leaving dock with a boat that is ill-prepared just because you have to “be somewhere” is likely the worst decision you will ever make on a boat.  So I guess the last couple of weeks have been good practice.

The issue is basically the time of year. I have a fairly hefty bit of work to do on the boat—most of it to be paid for by the PO (previous owner) and a bunch of it necessitating hauling the boat. Now since the PO is paying for the lift and storage (upwards of $700) it makes sense to schedule the work I am paying for at the same time in order to save a few  dollars. And therein lies the rub. It’s springtime on the west coast and every dog and his brother wants his work done and his boat in the water.  Now, if not sooner.

And since we have our Vancouver Island circumnavigation booked for mid-May, it makes sense to wait to have the work done since we can’t use the boat anyway. It all makes sense. The only downside is we might be paying two moorage fees since moving the boat away from Granville not only costs money, but may delay the work if they have to move it back, and we have already reserved a spot in Mosquito Creek to keep the boat until we are ready to go.

But all that means I have to wait.

In case you are wondering what kind of things need to be done to boat that I just bought, here is a list of what was decided should be done and approximate costs. As far as I can tell they are in no way unusual or extraordinary:

• lift & store 5 days—$700
• repitch prop—$450
• rebed (replace) strut bolts—$200
• repair chainplate crack—$475
• keel hull joint crack—$475
• hull damage—$1300 (up to $9000 if there is core damage)
• replace/repair galvanic isolator—$650
• Webasto heater repair—$1100
• rigging repair (misc)—$1500
• engine repairs (misc)—$2000
• *engine service & upgrades (misc)—$2000
• winch service—$500
• hot water tank repair/replace—$1300
• *repaint hull—$700
• *polish hull—$800

• items marked with an asterisk are not paid for by the PO

The galvanic isolator is the panel on the bottom. Actually that’s just its (non-functioning) panel but I have no idea what the isolator itself looks like.

The hull damage on the port side that needs to be repaired (hopefully not to the tune of $9000)

I also want to investigate the cost of tying in the water heater to the Webasto and upgrading the alternator to 100 amps. The first will give us hot water without having to fire up the main engine while away from dock since the Webasto hydronic heating system is basically a mini boiler. The second just reduces the amount of time it will take to recharge the batteries using the engine; important if we intend to stay in one place for more than a day and cheaper than installing solar panels or buying a generator.

Hopefully I will have a schedule in the next day or two for all this work. Right about now, all I really know is Lawrence wants us to go to Specialty Yacht’s Hunter Rendezvous on Thetis Island in late June so the boat has to be ready for then. We aren’t scheduled to take off on our grand adventure until July so I guess that’s ok. Even if it means waiting…

When one buys a boat there are only two choices. You either keep the name of the boat or you change it.

The legality

In Canada if you choose not to Register your boat then the name is actually meaningless; your boat is simply known by its license number which must be displayed on the bow. But registering costs hundreds of dollars, entails many months of effort and involves things like tonnage surveys. Licensing on the other hand is free. But the name is irrelevant.

Registering means that you actually have a title (and the paperwork to prove it) to the boat in her name (which is a good thing when travelling abroad) as well as the right to fly a Canadian flag and that you have to list home port on the boat itself. As far as I can tell many licensed boats do all this as well but they are not kosher. I don’t know if they are actually illegal though.

But for now we will just be licensing our new boat. And we are pretty sure we will rename her anyway. We named the dinghy Laughing Baby before we even knew we were actually going to get the boat. This was a name we (Leslie) had been toying with for quite a while but eventually decided it wasn’t “big” enough for a full grown sailboat. So I did up a graphic for this website and, as soon as possible, we will make up some vinyl and christen the tender with her new name and artwork.

But that leaves the current Rainbow Hunter. We have been toying with a few names and have — intellectually — settled on Never for Ever. But I am ever the visual person and I can’t seem to find a good visual brand for that  name so I am hesitating. But I guess we’ll see…

The Name

Never for Ever is the name of Kate Bush’s 3rd album, released in 1980. I was first exposed to it in ’81 while attending MacEwan. It was one of several albums we had on our mobile stereo that went from class to class with us (Hey, we were Theatre Production students—it was part of our training 🙂 ). Three of those albums subsequently became all time favourites of mine. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, Frank Zappa’s Joe’s Garage and Kate Bush’s Never for Ever; talk about an eclectic mix.

Many years later when I met Leslie we had an instant connection with two pieces of music: the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar (although I preferred the London cast and she was [sigh] a movie soundtrack fan) and Kate Bush’s Never for Ever. While Leslie and I are not the most religious people in the world I think we both agree that naming a boat Jesus Christ Superstar might be a tad impious and so, whilst thinking it all over a few weeks ago, it occurred to me that Never for Ever might be a good—and common— choice for us. According to Bush, the title alluded to conflicting emotions, good and bad, which pass, as she stated: “we must tell our hearts that it is ‘never for ever,’ and be happy that it’s like that.” Given the (currently) finite duration of our planned trip and the fact that Leslie and I have just come off of  many years of high-stress, losing battles, it really seemed an appropriate name. Besides you have to live life in now. So I pitched it and it was tentatively accepted.

Probably not the best logo for a boat 🙂

Better

Naming Boats

Apparently there is a protocol and ceremony to naming (and renaming) boats. Poseidon (Neptune) and Aeolus must be appeased so as not to offend or lose their protection or, worst of all, bring bad luck to the boat. First the boat must be stripped of all traces of its old name and a Denaming ceremony performed. According to legend, each and every vessel is recorded by name in the Ledger of the Deep and is known personally to Poseidon (or Neptune), the god of the sea. It is logical therefore, if we wish to change the name of our boat, the first thing we must do is to purge its name from the Ledger of the Deep and from Poseidon’s memory.

Then —in many variations (Google it, it’s great stuff)— there is a coin or tag with the old name inscribed on it that must be cast into the deep and of course the libation(s) offered to the gods.

After that is all done another ceremony — the Christening — must be performed before bring anything with the new name aboard. This can be done immediately or after a few days to make sure the old spirits and ghosts have had time to move on.

New Art

I am still working on the art for the boat. I like the idea of a nautical hourglass but I am not having much luck simplifying one enough that it will work in vinyl. I am also toying with using a swan (as illustrated on the album cover)—swans are cool. Eventually I will get it though and it will show up here.

I think we will stick with the Laughing Baby concept as a framing device for this site though. Laughing babies really are the best.