Sealy good fun

Despite a rather inauspicious, gloomy forecast, Tuesday turned out to be a splendid sailing day.

Daniel met Oz and I down at the boat ramp at 10, and we were sailing by 10.30.  The wind was a light South Westerly, so I started the engine as insurance, but raised the sails and we sailed majestically if very slowly round the dog leg out of the safe harbour, fortunately not meeting anyone coming in.

It was high tide, and we set off towards Kororoit Creek mouth.   I keep thinking it would be a good idea to try and pick my way into there.  As we got closer though, Daniel started talking about rocks in the channel.  I got cold feet and we headed along the coast instead towards Williamstown.

There is a large yellow "Transit Zone No Anchoring" buoy there which seems to be the residence of at least one seal.  He was home, and we sailed past at a respectful distance.  It always cheers me up to see him out there.  It is nice and boaty over there too, and the view as the bay round from Williamstown to Port Melbourne opens up is well worth the visit.

We turned round, and managed close hauled to just squeak by the cardinal marks off the coast there, then freed up for a nice broad reach back to Altona.  I got the staysail flying.   I think it will prove to be a good investment.  It is perfect for a long reach when the wind is under 10 knots.  It seems to add a bit of purposefulness to  our progress.   My new GPS ran out of batteries shortly after I switched it on so I am not sure precisely what difference the staysail makes yet. 

Surprisingly, there was no one around as we approached the safe harbour, so I dropped the main, armed Daniel with a paddle, fender and  boat hook, and sailed the boat back in, no engine going.  It really does make for a nice arrival.  The guy fishing off the end of the breakwater seemed impressed by our stately silent progress past him.  The wind was almost straight along the jetty, so I let the mizzen rotate completely forward as we came along side.  I was able to slow us down simply by running my hand on the jetty as we glided past, then dropped a line over the cleat and we came to a very gentle stop. One of my better landings.

It was one of the nicer sails I have had in the Core Sound.  I am coming to think that this is the sort of sailing I like best. 

Type 2 fun

Just back from my first and probably last regatta, the Mirror Nationals at Paynesville. Peregrina and I sailed between 50 and 60 nautical miles, top speed 8.1 knots, a reading from two different days, so I suspect it represents Peregrina's maximum hull speed down a wave with as much wind as we can cope with behind us.

The experience was what Al Humphreys would describe as "type 2 fun", where you are often cold, wet, frightened, sore and a bit miserable, but you hope at some point in the future the experience will take on a glow of satisfaction and achievement.

I had a port starboard collision with Daniel (not  my fault) and poor Peregrina copped a nasty gash along her front tank, which slowly filled with water, slowing me down progressively over the last two races to the point where I realized that more water was coming in than I could bail out, and I abandoned for that day.

Two of the sailing days were very windy. On the last day, a chap came over for a chat as I was rigging up. He pointed out his boat, a thirty foot trimaran, moored nearby. After considering the white capped grey water off the island for a minute he shook his head. "I wouldn't go out in that". I probably shouldn't have either, for I capsized not long after. I managed to self rescue but I  was cold for the rest of the racing. I hadn't managed to stop the leak either once again the boat got more sluggish as the racing proceeded, which is a very demoralising experience. I wasn't aware how much water had got into the front tank, and I did not drain it. When we came to try to lift the boat, Daniel had an additional 20 kilos of water to contend with and he dropped the front of the boat on the carpark tarmac resulting in some damage to the front and side gunnels.

So both Peregrina and I are a bit bashed and need some repair and recouperation. It was interesting being in a place right on the edge of a massive catastrophe but with everyone going on as normal. The air was thick with smoke most days and at night the smoke plume was illluminated by a crimson glow from the flames only a few kilometres away.  I am very glad we did not get trapped there or have to evacuate leaving boats or the caravan behind. The pic below is looking from near the jetty across to Raymond Island, a few hundred meters away.

I met some lovely people, learned a few things, and hopefully came away a better sailor than I was before. And I am now the Australian National  Mirror single handed sailing champion (thanks to a tiny field and the withdrawal of the guy who should have won) with a bit of huon pine to prove it. But I would not be in a hurry to repeat the experience.

To see ourselves

As others see us ...  Penny sent through some photos, a couple from Paynesville and one from an Albert Park sailing day.

I suspect that we should both not sit in the rear of the boat, I bet that transom is creating a good bit of drag there.  But that is the dangerous allure of the outboard engine - a little bit more throttle and you can easily overcome inefficient boat trim.

I like the little Ozzie head peering over the gunnel.  The sails don't look so bad in this photo, but some of the others show a nasty set of stretch related creases running back to the tack.  I lashed out and bought some new to me second hand sails for the upcoming Nationals in Paynesville.  Daniel and I went out sailing this morning, and as far as I can tell he is now going faster.  grrrrrr. I will have to improve my sail trimming.

Ramp rage

7.00 Am on Sunday morning, and the cars and trailers are parked everywhere round the Altona Safe Harbour when Oz and I walk past on our morning inspection tour. The overflow carpark has overflowed, car trailer combos are all along the road, on the grass, everywhere.  The ramp itself seems locked solid, with boats going out and boats coming in.

This is not a good omen for the Wooden Boat Association Werribee River excursion.  I anticipate the ramp there will be equally busy, but I have said I will go and the boat is hooked up.  We arrive there about 9.15 and surprisingly get launched and find a convenient park straight away. I rig the boat tied up to the pier jetty.  Boats coming back in come speeding by every minute or so, and the wash sends my boat bouncing around.  I discover later, after I hoist the sails, that I have inserted one slug upside down, which gives the sail a nasty crease, enough to make a sail maker weep. Particularly unfortunate as today the boat will be photographed by multiple other WBA people, leaving undeniable evidence of my nautical incompetence.

Laurence from the Port Phillip Bay Dinghy Cruising group, and a sailing friend from way back, joins me, and we set off out into the bay for a while, to let the others launch and get organized.  There is not a lot of wind out there, but it is nice mooching along.  Around 10.30 we head back into the river, past the launch ramp, which has not got any quieter.

The wind, West South Westerly, picks up a bit, and we have a splendid run down the river, catching up with Campbell and his young son Duncan near the island before the cliffs.  We land, and the lad asks what is the name of the place.  I tell him it is Duncan Island.  He looks pleased.  The rest of the fleet arrive, including Penny and Jim in their Drascome Lugger, looking impeccably ship shape as they furl sail and row in.

The poor old Core Sound is full of dust from Thursday, twigs from a close encounter with the bank, various clutter and ropes, and the sails never look particularly neat when dropped and tied onto the sprits.  Hmmm, I might have to try a bit harder in the ship shape department.

Whatever, we have a nice picnic on Duncan Island.

The outing was an opportunity for some members of the recently formed face book group, Port Phillip Bay Dinghy Cruising, to meet one another for the first time.

After lunch we set off back up river.  The two Mirrors tacked their way back, I motored very slowly along behind as crash boat and potential tow if required.   When we got back to the ramp, there were scenes of utter mayhem.  The wind had kicked up, and lots of people had decided at the same time that they wanted to go home. Every space on the short jetties was occupied.  More boats were heading in, circling round like sharks watching for a queue to jump or a space to nab. After numerous circuits and getting bumped, we basically rammed the end of one jetty and Laurence managed to get a rope on.  People were still launching boats, and queue jumping to locate their trailers in the bays that you need to be in to back straight down the ramps.  But we got the boat on and out.  This was a sharp learning experience for me - I never want to get into that situation again!

Three very different days ... Monday

After the grey windy Sunday, the weather settled and the evening sky promised a good day for Monday. I wanted to go and check the beach to see if my gps might have washed up, and Steve had the day off, so I got down to the boat ramp relatively early, and launched the Core Sound. It was the nicest day for ages. Oz likes the Core Sound much more than my other boats.

We anchored off AYC, rigged and tidied up. Steve joined us and we sailed over to Point Cook, trying out the new Mizzen staysail on the way. We stopped near our landing spot of the day before, now inhabited by hundreds of feeding sanderlings or stints, had lunch and 10 minutes fruitless search for the gps, then set off for a great broad reach home.  It was a grand day out.

Three very different days ... Sunday

Despite the relatively benign BOM forecast, the weather was squally and, from the white caps when we set out, it was around 15 knots. Much credit to Jamie and Steve and Sebastian, who set out bravely despite the chop and the wind and the grey squall line of cloud on the horizon in the general direction we wanted to go. We got out on starboard tack with wind from the South West, then tacked on port past the red stick. The wind strengthened and eased and strengthened again as we went. We could sit on one long tack across to the coast line towards Point Cook. We discovered, via the centreboard depth finders, that the depth shelves quite rapidly as you approach the coast, and also that the bottom is a particularly viscous sticky muddy sand. I was in front, and managed to stick the centreboard into the mud just as I was trying to tack, resulting in the boat pivoting rapidly and Oz and I going for an unplanned swim as the boat capsized. Jamie also got in some capsize practice under similar circumstances. We decided that where we were was actually where we were going, so we walked the boats into the beach and had lunch marvelling again at how nice this bit of coast is. It was a nice spot. 

The wind did not ease off over lunch, and the swell seemed to have built up. Hooting back on a broad reach I was disconcerted to see Jamie and his boat vanishing into the troughs between the waves. It was exciting. Even more exciting for Steve and Sebastian in the 125. Steve fell out of the boat when they were hit by a wave, Sebastian stalled the boat but capsized. So we all got some capsize practice today. It was a memorable adventure though.

Three very different days Saturday

Last Saturday was grey but the wind forecast suggested winds less than 15 knots easing as the afternoon progressed. After a series of Saturday race days blown out, I was keen to get the Sabre back in the water. The first of two races, i seriously fluffed the start, but had a good race with Penny who is also relatively new to Sabre sailing. I could draw ahead on the upwind leg,but she was much better down wind. I needed to give her rounding room at the bottom mark. I went wide, and gybed onto port tack, and started steering up to the finish line. She was still on the other gybe, and we collided, the bow of her boat hitting the rear port side of mine. I am still not sure who was in the wrong, but I  did a 360 on the general principle that you should never collide with anybody, and she won the race.

The next race I started better, despite getting a good whack on the side of the head from the boom while waiting for the race to start. I was keeping much closer to the two other Sabre sailers, hooting down the top reaching leg, when a fierce squall  blew through. I clocked 8.6 knots, but the nose of the boat was digging into the waves in front, and I had a vision of pitchpoling so I headed up and let the sail flap ... as did the rest of the fleet. I granny gybed round the mark, loosing some ground, and I was beating again into a lumpy sea, sheeting in hard, when the thwart, that the mainsheet connects to, ripped right out of the boat. I managed to turn towards home and run in, but it was close to a capsize for the first thirty seconds.