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.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
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.
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. |
Thursday, September 2, 2010
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.
The storm skirted New York, everything was fine.
 |
| Tie Down |
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
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?
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?
Saturday, August 14, 2010
trust
I picked up the trapeze handle the other day it just fell off into my hand. The cable had rusted through. I decided to buy all new standing rig, after consulting with the Hobie forum. The normal suggestion was to replace every 3 years or so.
I also bought a few quick-release shackles and pins to replace poorly working ones.
The entire kit was $350., and I ordered it from Sailsport Marine in Traverse City, MI.
The new rigging is slightly different than the old ones, creating a much greater mast rake. The forestay is longer and the shrouds are shorter. This seems to be an acceptable alteration of the original design. It seems that the new boats are set up this way.
I'll include more information on the mast raking and the feeling of trust apparent or lacking in this situation and in relation to the rest of life.
I also bought a few quick-release shackles and pins to replace poorly working ones.
The entire kit was $350., and I ordered it from Sailsport Marine in Traverse City, MI.
The new rigging is slightly different than the old ones, creating a much greater mast rake. The forestay is longer and the shrouds are shorter. This seems to be an acceptable alteration of the original design. It seems that the new boats are set up this way.
I'll include more information on the mast raking and the feeling of trust apparent or lacking in this situation and in relation to the rest of life.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
beach dragger
The hardest part of sailing: dragging the boat back up the beach. Especially alone.
My boat moving system is this:
- Three 10' x 4" pvc pipes as rollers.
- Put the boat of 2 of them, the 3rd one in front. drag boat at the dolphin striker until the rear pipe comes out.
- Put that pipe in front, repeat. Its tedious, but a good workout.
The pipes aren't even mine. My boat's previous owner told me it was fine to use my neighbor's pipes. I've never seen that boat moved.
Soloed today, light winds, practiced buoy turns, a motor boat played chicken with me until I turned off. Some rouge waves and quick wind direction shifts. Just puttered up and down in front of the marina.
Sailing alone is beautiful, and to me feels very organic. No one is watching, so frustration over badly performed turns or lack of wind or a luffing jib never gets expressed. I just live with it, not even really noticing my mistakes. I'm beginning to feel more suited to being alone.
Re-rigged the forestay and the shrouds before I went out. Shortened the forestay as much as possible, while still attaching the jib below it. Then tightened up the shrouds so there wasn't so much slop in the rig. Pulled the jib halyard pretty tight, and everything seemed to work better. There is still a ton of rake. The main sheet is still block to block and you have to lay entirely flat to get under when tacking.
Half-pint of water in the starboard hull. Need to look at my fiberglass repair from the weekend, but it seems to be holding up quite well. No water in port hull.
Need to sew on some new hiking straps.
Need to look into cat trax.
Is there a portable beach dragging system to use when cruising?
My boat moving system is this:
- Three 10' x 4" pvc pipes as rollers.
- Put the boat of 2 of them, the 3rd one in front. drag boat at the dolphin striker until the rear pipe comes out.
- Put that pipe in front, repeat. Its tedious, but a good workout.
The pipes aren't even mine. My boat's previous owner told me it was fine to use my neighbor's pipes. I've never seen that boat moved.
Soloed today, light winds, practiced buoy turns, a motor boat played chicken with me until I turned off. Some rouge waves and quick wind direction shifts. Just puttered up and down in front of the marina.
Sailing alone is beautiful, and to me feels very organic. No one is watching, so frustration over badly performed turns or lack of wind or a luffing jib never gets expressed. I just live with it, not even really noticing my mistakes. I'm beginning to feel more suited to being alone.
Re-rigged the forestay and the shrouds before I went out. Shortened the forestay as much as possible, while still attaching the jib below it. Then tightened up the shrouds so there wasn't so much slop in the rig. Pulled the jib halyard pretty tight, and everything seemed to work better. There is still a ton of rake. The main sheet is still block to block and you have to lay entirely flat to get under when tacking.
Half-pint of water in the starboard hull. Need to look at my fiberglass repair from the weekend, but it seems to be holding up quite well. No water in port hull.
Need to sew on some new hiking straps.
Need to look into cat trax.
Is there a portable beach dragging system to use when cruising?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
you are more than you think you are
Lesson 1, 2, & 3: To learn how to sail, sail.
My great friend Erik started bicycle racing a few years after I did, and we went out on his first training rides together. He was strong and had great potential, but on those first few rides he couldn't keep up. A couple weeks later though, he was able to hang in the group with no problem. After his first feel-good ride, he said that he wasn't in better shape, but that before he just did not believe he could push himself that hard.
That's a beautiful sentiment, with no negativity, and telling of the human condition. We all have the ability to do things that seem impossible at first, but once tried, that difficulty is manageable.
It happened to me when I first went out to look at the boat I bought. I had all of the initial inabilities one would expect.
a.) My motor-control had atrophied, and I was all thumbs - I dropped the first shackle pin I opened into the sand.
b.) I had a hard time dragging the boat up the beach - my body was used to sitting in front of a computer, not dragging 300+ lbs. boats over the sand.
c.) I assumed things worked, sorta in an undo, redo, fix-it-later way. I didn't check every bolt and screw for security. And, of course, a bunch of them fell off during the first couple times out.
I can sail a sport catamaran, because I hopped onto a sport catamaran. My hands hurt, but I can pull a boat up the beach, I'm more careful, and I check stuff.
My great friend Erik started bicycle racing a few years after I did, and we went out on his first training rides together. He was strong and had great potential, but on those first few rides he couldn't keep up. A couple weeks later though, he was able to hang in the group with no problem. After his first feel-good ride, he said that he wasn't in better shape, but that before he just did not believe he could push himself that hard.
That's a beautiful sentiment, with no negativity, and telling of the human condition. We all have the ability to do things that seem impossible at first, but once tried, that difficulty is manageable.
It happened to me when I first went out to look at the boat I bought. I had all of the initial inabilities one would expect.
a.) My motor-control had atrophied, and I was all thumbs - I dropped the first shackle pin I opened into the sand.
b.) I had a hard time dragging the boat up the beach - my body was used to sitting in front of a computer, not dragging 300+ lbs. boats over the sand.
c.) I assumed things worked, sorta in an undo, redo, fix-it-later way. I didn't check every bolt and screw for security. And, of course, a bunch of them fell off during the first couple times out.
I can sail a sport catamaran, because I hopped onto a sport catamaran. My hands hurt, but I can pull a boat up the beach, I'm more careful, and I check stuff.
Friday, July 30, 2010
a month with a 1981 Hobie16, sail number 71146
I bought my 1981 16' Hobie cat a little over a month ago. I've learned a huge amount in that month. It's been pretty crazy; I've had a lot of the common failures and maintenance issues for a boat this age, and I've had a few adventures too. I live in Brooklyn, so sailing and all it entails is a little unusual here. Finding parts and expertise has been a challenge, and I'd be lost with the Hobie community forums.
http://www.hobiecat.com/community/
If you really need information, you should start there. Here I'm going to try to catalog all of my experiences, brief as they've been so far.
http://www.hobiecat.com/community/
If you really need information, you should start there. Here I'm going to try to catalog all of my experiences, brief as they've been so far.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)