RunKeeper app test

This is an amazing free app.
http://itunes.apple.com/runkeeper
Tracks speed and distance and places them on the map.

Today Karolina and I went 21 miles in 3 hours, with light easterly winds. As you can see the wind shifted to the South somewhat over the course of the morning. 18 miles out, 3 miles back.

50 miles

Monday I prepared for an overnight trip on SeaWof (my Hobie cat 16's current name). I went over the boat looking for obvious problems. I bought a GPS Personal Location Beacon, another dry bag, and a Camelbak. I saw lightening at the marina, and the forecast called for thunderstorms so I stayed on the beach.
    This morning I got to the marina early and was on the water at 9:15. The wind was out of the NW and made for a perfect run to the SW. I decided I wouldn't decide on a destination until I cleared Breezy Point. There were 3 options, go around Breezy Point towards Fire Island to the East, go across the bay to Sandy Point, or up the bay towards the Manhattan under the Verrazano bridge. The wind didn't change direction or slacken, so going North to Manhattan seemed like a slog and going out to Fire Island seemed fine but getting back would probably be a hassle if the wind shifted to the West as is usually the case in the afternoon. So Sandy Hook became the destination.
    It was fairly hazy so I couldn't make out many details along the way. The Bay was wider than I thought, but the trip was basically a straight shot to the SW, once I saw the sandy beaches I figured I was in the right place and drove straight there. The waves were a bit bigger than comfortable, maybe 3 feet. I passed a fishing boat and yelled out "Is that Sandy Hook?" but they didn't understand me until I was out of ear shot, it seemed like they thought it was though.  I let the strong breeze push the boat a bit up the beach. 10 miles in 1:15.  (A good site of tracking distance on maps: http://www.daftlogic.com/projects-google-maps-distance-calculator.htm)
    The beach was beautiful, mostly trash free, and completely empty. I stayed an hour, taking pictures and beach combing. While there the wind died.
    I got back on and drifted west for a few minutes, but it was starting to get hot, the waves were slamming the slackened boat, and it didn't seem like a great idea to be heading away from home in the uncertain conditions. So I turned around and started E again against the waves, no wind. The water then became flat and I was adrift, which didn't seem like a great position to be in heading into the shipping channel. I decided I'd stall if I did get a little wind rather than limp across the channel with fast moving ships crossing my path. Fortunately the wind increased enough and I could steer again so I headed back E. I did decide to stall once waiting for a barge being pulled on a chain to cross. I finally saw the Fort Tilden bridge about half way across the bay but it appeared far to the right of Breezy Point so I realized I had drifted South a fair bit and was out in the ocean properly.  Fortunately, the wind shifted to the W enough to allowed me to head due N towards Coney Island.
    As my next goal I decided I'd try to get under the Verrazano Bridge. But the wind kept moving back to the N too, so I spent 5 hours tacking, trying to go NW towards the bridge. My port rudder cam was popped and I wanted to get onshore to fix it but the Coney beaches were too crowded. I stayed well offshore to avoid swimmers, but had to tack in as much as possible to gain some northernly progress.The current kept pushing me E too. I finally made it past Sea Gate after 7 tacks and drove straight into Gravesend Bay, since I couldn't point higher. After 3 tacks around the anchored barges there, I got to the middle of the bridge about 200 yards to the South of it on a port tack and swung around to my final tack, the angle was acute and difficult, heeding straight for the pylon on the East side, so I had to go downwind of the pylon into the narrow gap between it and the rocky shore, which I was being dragged towards.
    I expected the winds to be erratic under the bridge, but the shifts were violent and the wind speed seemed to double. I wasn't too close to a capsize but I wasn't in control either. I let out both sheets and just tried to steer into the wind as it rose from one direction then 90º off to the East. I limped through, with some fishing dudes watching skeptically from the rocks. Heading further up the bay seemed arduous against the current and wind and it was 5pm. So I gybed still in the shadow of the bridge and ran South on a broad reach, simply flying now. 
    It had taken 5.5 hours to go 9 miles in a straight line, with the tacks I figured the actual path was actually close to 30 miles. In the light wind, sometimes dead, and sometimes gusty wind, I think that was ok, considering my heading was directly into the wind. I could have made wiser, longer tacks, and started them sooner, but that would have put me into more commercial traffic in the middle of the bay.
    A cruise ship was heading out of NY at the same time and we kept pace for a while until I cleared Sea Gate, where I gybed East.
    A few more minutes of flying and a few of dead calm and I was back at the marina in an hour and a half, 10 more miles. The marina landing was a bit tricky with the wind again out of the NW and the tide out giving me little sea room. I had to make a low-speed but violent gybe inside the marina - hopefully no one was watching or too concerned about their boats being rammed. The beach was extra long and steep for dragging the boat up after that day. I couldn't pop the rudder cam by hand, so I've got to take a real screwdriver out there. I emptied a couple pint of water out of the port hull, again not bad for all day. 10 hours alone on SeaWof would be a great diet. I had eaten a few baby carrots, a handful of peanuts, 2 Clif bars and drank 3 liters of Gatorade. I also learned how to pee and steer at the same time. My 33rd time on SeaWof.

Coney Island, tiny breeze

All my gear for an overnight, beach-camping sail

SeaWof standing in the distance

New Jersey Safari, the end of Sandy Hook

                                                              

Capsize, Rescue, Last Sail

The Setup
    My 23rd time sailing, since I bought the boat 106 days ago. It turned out to be my last sail of the season. I was wearing my wetsuit for the first time, though it wasn't too cold. The wind was strong, coming directly off the beach, North North East. I went out solo, and it was tough. I went out on a roaring run. Even on the way out I noticed some of the lines weren't in their best positions, but I thought I'd straighten up once things calmed down. Once out, I was constantly pinched to keep the speed down. Gybing since tacking at low speed into the wind was not possible. The boat walked slowly up and down the bay in front of the marina in the blast of wind. Realizing I might not be able to get back against the wind at this speed, I turned back after 20 minutes.

The Event
    I got back into the Marina, but needed to tack a few times to get to the beach. The main sheet got twisted in the blocks and wouldn't release when I came around. In slow motion, the boat heeled over on it rear quarter and I tried to climb up the other side to keep it level as I'd done before, but it wasn't happening this time. I slide down the tramp into the water as we went over.
    The tramp caught the wind and immediately we started moving away from the beach and out towards the bay. I climbed on the lower hull and tried to rotate the boat by standing on the front of the hull to bring the boat to a 45º angle to the wind (to aid in trying to right it). That did not work. I pulled on the righting line with no effect, way too light.  I had my righting bag and tackle but there wasn't time to get it out. We were moving really fast and it looked like I'd be blown out into the bay and possibly into the ocean, so it became most important to try to stay within the confines of the Marina. I was able to steer somewhat by shifting my weight on the hull. Within a minute, I was closing in on the tip of barrier dock. I was able to just stay inside, and just before hitting the dock with the mast tip I leaned back and got the mast and sail on top of the dock, instead of the mast getting jammed under the dock where the sails would have been shredded by barnacles. I climbed over onto the dock, and held the boat on its side against the dock.

The Rescue
    I just waited, assuming someone had seen me and assuming trying to fix the situation myself wasn't wise. After 20 minutes a couple sailor came over and helped me tie the boat to the dock lying on its side. I felt like I couldn't right it there because there were other boats parked directly down wind and I thought SeaWof would ram them immediately. I folded up the sails and walked them back to parking lot. I found the park service rescue/divers boat in the marina. The diver refused to help me saying the commercial rescue operators would get him in trouble if he towed me the 200 yards to the beach. It was so close, but directly upwind in the fresh breeze; and there were plenty of boats to run into on the way there. I saw him again puttering around in his boat; I begged and he relented. I walked the mast up and easily righted the boat. He threw me a line and dragged me over to the beach.
    The sails were covered with seagull droppings from laying on the barrier dock where they roost. I took them home and washed them.
    I learned to keep all the lines clear and untangled from the beginning, don't assume there will be time later to straighten up.

Reefing Test (Hurricane Earl, part 3)

    Saturday was a big adventure, and I needed to get back on the horse, so Sunday I headed out again. Though the wind was still strong, it wasn't bad. There were a few boats out, even 2 other Hobie cats.
    To be on the safe side I reefed the main sail, tying it down with parachute cord. Everything worked great. The 3 Hobies raced back and forth across the bay. Even with the reefed sail, I was light and equaled their speed.

The Leeward Bridge (Hurricane Earl, part 2)

   The day after Hurricane Earl was suppose to pass, I headed out  to the Marina. New York had not gotten a direct hit from the storm, but it was still blowing good on Saturday. The air was super clear and beautiful, I could see all of Sheepshead Bay, and there wasn't a single boat out. I figured that must have meant something. So I waited to see what would happen. I lay on the beach, under the boat, sleeping some.
    Then the Russian 20-something guys that own the boat beside me showed up. They had a few cigarettes and a couple beers to steel themselves as they rigged the boat. They were going out.
    So I was going out.
    I had a plan. To avoid being over-powered by the wind, I decided to try sailing with only the jib. I strapped the main wrapped around the boom to the boat, in case I'd need it later.
    With still no other boat in the water they pulled out just ahead of me. The wind was out of the West and provided a nice tack directly South into the bay. I was moving pretty well with the jib alone. They capsized once they got half way across. They managed to right the boat only to have it pushed over the other way. They  repeatedly capsized, maybe 6 times. I was fine, shiny side down and crossed the bay, then gybed back across the bay, then back again once more. Thinking at first I could help them, then realizing I was best off just surviving myself.
    Someone on shore must have seen them capsizing and called 911. A helicopter came out a hovered over them as they righted the boat again. Then 3 full fire trucks came half way across the Ft. Tilden bridge and stopped, obviously watching the Russians and I as they continued to capsize then fly off, and as I tiptoed slowly across the bay. Seeing the helicopter and all the fire trucks made me think that it was probably a good idea to retire for the day, having successfully stayed upright and avoided the municipal expense of a rescue.
    So I gybed a second time to a Northerly reach to take me back into the Marina. But I was underpowered to beat even 90º to the wind and current. I was being pushed East towards the bridge. This was bad. At first my goal diminished, I figured I'd have to gybe again to make it into the Marina. Then I realized I lost a lot of ground turning and that would actually worsen the situation. So my new goal was clear the point, get into Dead Horse Bay and figure it out later, but I soon realized I wouldn't clear the point. I was headed for the beaches of Floyd Bennett Field. Not terrible. Then I realized there was a bigger problem, at my current rate I may not even stay clear the leeward bridge. And if I hit the bridge with the mast I was definitely capsizing, if not demasting, and could expect firemen in the water to save me. Not a pleasant prospect.
    There were at least 2 dozen firemen watching me now from the bridge and a few other spectators. They were yelling at me with a megaphone but I couldn't tell what they were saying and I couldn't make them understand what my situation was. I continued. There was nothing else to do.
    As I got closer to the beach, my margin of safety from the leeward bridge became less and less. I was close enough to the bridge now that I could understand their question "Are you okay?" I said yes that I was just going to pull up on the beach. I landed with about 10 feet to spare from being dragged under the bridge. One fireman came down to the beach and helped me pull the boat half out of the surf. They had no idea how close it was; my path to the beach right beside the bridge had seemed intentional I think. I told the fireman that I would stay put until the wind lessened.
    The Russians had not needed rescue either - they had righted their boat and returned to the Marina. I figured I'd kill maybe an hour sitting on the beach there, then sail home. 3 hours went by. Then 3 more. I was downwind of home and around the corner with the bridge still standing there to leeward. I did some beach combing, napped some more, then realized I'd have to do something, the sun would set in a couple hours.
    I decide to walk back to the Marina in the water pulling the boat, just beyond the breakers. It was a mile and a half, mostly in chest deep water. It was treacherous. there were several ruined docks in my path with the post still there covered in barnacles, half of them hidden under water. The point was an old dump too in the first half of the 20th century so the seafloor was made of broken glass, rusted wire, and tar. At the point the wind and the waves really picked up and there was a collapsed dock there that I'd have to go around. I stopped and looked at it for a while before proceeding. I had to walk out in water to my neck, holding the front of the boat in the waves and pulling it. The wind would grab the boat at the top of the waves and I'd float free for a second.  I figured worse case, let go of the boat and swim for shore. I made it around the point and back to the Marina as the sun was setting. My shoes were tatters and I was super tired. But otherwise, all good. I figured I learned the danger of the leeward shore pretty well.

Drying my pants in the fresh breeze. Already a half mile from the bridge at this point.

The ruined docks I had to climb through, boat in tow. When I looked at these pictures, I was disappointed that you could not see the strength of the wind in the waves.

Hurricane Earl Prep

The New York City area was expecting a storm surge from Hurricane Earl on Friday, so on Thursday night, in the dark, I pulled the boat further up the beach, secured all the lines, and chained the dolphin striker to the 2 cinder blocks.
The storm skirted New York, everything was fine.

Tie Down

necessary evil

Sunday I soloed in the rain. It was a beautiful day though a bit threatening with the cloud cover. I wasn't really aware of the rain, thinking it was spray, until I looked up and saw water running down the mast. I drove straight to Coney Island on the fastest tack the boat would take, fairly close to the beach for safety, though with less than ideal trim to moderate the speed. Once I reached the amusement park, I turned around. The waves are notably larger once past the protection of Breezy Point. It's a rough, bobbing sail in that kind of water. The rest of the day I spent in the protection of Ft. Tilden/Breezy Point, racing back and forth for speed only, without going over. Testing whether to turn up, turn down, or release the sheet for speed moderation.

The highway traffic through Coney Island was bad in the afternoon on my way out at 3pm. I am convinced that the backups occur because the Belt Highway goes by 2 beaches. At one there are fancy kite performances and at the second there are kite-boards, each creates a backup of slowing, staring drivers. While caught in this, I was listening to an NPR show about the atomic bombing of Japan. One of the planes was renamed "Necessary Evil" after the fact by Hollywood propagandist, to improve the chances that the bombing would view as necessary to end the war.
I thought this might be a good name for my boat. I've been wrestling with ideas for a name since I got the boat. It seems like something that normally comes naturally to me. And I even requested names from Facebook friends. Nothing is really sticking. In honor of the blog, the current best candidate is Veribold, as a twist of Variable and Very Bold. Still not certain though.

Sunday also marked my 16th time out sailing since I got Veribold, 8 weeks ago. I am happy, but I want to set a goal to move toward. A cruise to Fire Island? Sandy Hook, NJ? The Verrazano Bridge?