Tuesday, February 18, 2020

Electrifying sailing

The weather forecast looked ok, Monday light East North Easterlies, Tuesday moderate west South Westerlies, ideal for a two day sail round to Werribee river and back. I focused on the wind arrows, and didn’t read the fine print that warned of possible thunderstorms on Tuesday.



Monday was a lovely sunny day, and I pottered round taking my time packing the boat. With the various logistics of  rigging the boat, launching, leaving car and trailer down at the yacht club  accomplished, it was 11 by the time I had sails up and heading, ever so slowly, broadly in the direction of my first waypoint, the Dumb Joe cardinal mark that shows safe passage round the reefs off Point Cook.

The wind was flukey and light, and shfted more to the South. I had to tack, drift and ghost my way past the mark, then tack my way up the coast line towards the river mouth.

It was a pleasant if rather drawn out passage, and it was late in the day, and low tide to boot, when we sailed smoothly up the entrance channel towards the moored boats, waving regally to the groups of admiring families on the beach, only to encounter a boat heading out at the narrowest point. In avoiding him, the centreboard touched, the boat pivoted, which in turn led to some frantic manoeuvring to avoid the bank, the moored boats and various floating buoys.  Thanks to the handiness of the cat rig we hit none of them, and we were soon in the river proper and could relax.


It was almost 7, after a pleasant but long and tiring day, before we were tied up on the bank of the island and dinner was ready. I was able to observe at close quaters the rush hour on the drying mud bank as a swarm of small well camouflaged crabs and snails emerged to feast on whatever the departing tide had deposited.


It was a lovely sunset, but with it came clouds of mosquitoes, and I realized that one thing I had neglected to bring was insect repellent.



Poor Ozzie was having a hard time with the mosquitoes, so plan A, me sleeping in my bivvy bag, was replaced by plan B, putting up the untried boat tent.  Once tent was up we sat inside and spent the next half hour picking off mozzies who had come inside with us. It wasn't perfect but better than outside. I woke about 2 to find boat on an angle as we dried out. Getting out to chock a fender under brought  a new intake of mozzies. But we slept ok, and woke round 8 to find we were swinging at anchor, under a very ominous sky.


I was getting breakfast, and not paying much attention when in rapid succession, there was a tremendous thunderclap, the wind kicked up, and it started to rain.

To help the drama, the anchor started to drag in the soft mud. I dropped the camera in the excitement but it recorded the impressive lightning which I was too preoccupied to notice. Ozz and I huddled back inside the tent, to discover that it leaked like a sieve in a heavy downpour.

Once the rain eased, we packed up and motored back up river. The wind was on the nose, everything was wet, and I was keen to get home before the predicted strong winds of the late afternoon. I checked the wind forecast, but I should have checked the general weather.

Out in the Bay, there was a stiff wind shifting round between West and South so once we were set up and going, after the unfortunate incident with the escaped mizzen sheet, we were somewhere between a reach and a run, smoking along at up to 8 knots.

If not for the ominous thunder storm cells it would have been fantastic fun. "Trouble ahead, trouble behind", as the Greatful Dead memorably put it. I could see a squall line chasing me, and I was racing to get round Dumb Joe. But I was too slow and/or the storm front too fast. I hove to, a wonderfully reliable manoeuvre on a cat Ketch, and I had a reef in both sails when the storm hit. Ozzie flattened himself under the spray hood and the coaming, I sat stoically out in the deluge, trying to keep us moving slowly to avoid drifting down onto the cardinal mark pile.

 Once we were past the mark, we started the run for home. Being able to run wing and wing, with the sails set a few degrees by the lee, are yet more admirable qualities of the cat ketch, and I was beginning to relax when there was a mighty clap of thunder, from what seemed like a few metres above the boat. Ozz and I both jumped a metre, and poor Ozzie started trembling. Being by far the tallest object for miles around was not a good place to be, but there was not much to do but keep going as fast as possible for home.


I made some firm undertakings to be a better dog owner and human being if we made it back to land, and took a moment to have a good look around at the world in case I wouldnt be seeing it again. It looked wonderful, despite the icy rain that had begun to bucket down again.

But the immediate tasks of watching heading, sails, wind direction, and possible squall lines sneaking up displaced all such sombre thoughts, and we were soon rounding up to drop sails and motor into the safe harbour. Unsurprisingly,  the ramp and the car park were deserted. Noone was silly enough to be out.

Ozzie was overjoyed to be back on a patch of land he knew. Or perhaps any land at all. He ran round in crazy circles, barking, while I squelched along behind, thoroughly soaked but equally pleased.

I learned a lot from this trip.

I won't take Oz on an overnight again. I have an innate right to scare myself silly or drown myself, but it is not fair to him. And the logistics of organizing shore leave so he can pump his bilges limits options.

I need a good shelter, something mosquito proof and waterproof.

I need a good waterproof cushion. Long hours sitting on the hard seat or the coaming took its toll.

I need to be more rigorous about checking both wind and weather forecasts, both before and during a trip. Any forecast with the word  "thunderstorm" is now a stay on shore day, whatever the inconvenience.

19.8 Nautical Miles on the way there, tacking into the wind, Moving time 7 hours 42, the orange track in the map at the top of page.  13.5 Nautical Miles on the way home, the blue track on the map, moving time 3 hours 16.  Goes to show why gentlemen only sail down wind.






















Wednesday, February 12, 2020

Holiday

We went with the kids and the dog down to Inverloch for an extended weekend, to stay in the house we discovered at the Classic Wooden Boat regatta last year. It was very windy and grey but we still went for lots of walks, a few swims, feasted, drank nice wine, relaxed, and actually had a very nice holiday.  The wind encourages you to snooze and take it easy.  The local seagulls certainly thought so.



It is strange but true, that being retired and living a life is a sort of work in its own right, and it is very nice to have a break from all the day to day stuff.


On the beach near the house is the remains of the barque The Amazon, which foundered in a storm in the 1860s, only a few days out of Port Phillip Bay.  It is a reminder of how stressful life on the sea must have been in the days before good weather forecasts and GPS.


Back to the daily grind, I arranged to meet a few AYC sailers and a nice local chap, Bjorn, who I met while rigging up the other day, and we got on the water by about 11.00, three Sabres and Bjorn and Ozzie and I in the Mirror.  I let Bjorn helm.  He is about my age, but had not sailed since he was a teenager.  He was very competent though, which just goes to show that sailing is a bit like riding a bicycle, in that you do not forget the key skills.   The wind did get up a bit, and poor Oz was not too impressed about getting a wet tail.  But it was great to be back on the water.


We saw a lone Gannet, swooping down close over the waves.  Unfortunately I was too slow to get a photo of him.


Thursday, February 6, 2020

Windy day, frogs day,birthday, light airs day.

Racing was washed out/blown out last Saturday, so the repeat offenders were keen to get on the water any which way on Sunday, leading to some optimistic reading of the weather forecast. Sandra, Federico, Steve and his friend, and I launched, and almost immediately the wind swung and went up to over 25 knots, according to the Laverton weather station. It was extraordinarily good fun hooting across the relatively flat water at over 10 knots in the Sabre, but also moderately terrifying. Steve capsized with his friend who had never been sailing before ... and probably won't be sailing again.

Next day I cycled over to Coburg, to help Brendan to change the batteries and download data from the sound recorders he has secreted along the Merri Creek to capture the call of the elusive and endangered Growling Grass Frog.  It is great to see that there are still areas of semi wild over that side of Melbourne, and you can almost believe you are far far away, but there is an ominous sense of the encircling advancing rim of industrial grunge is closing in.  The mob of kangaroos on the horizon watched us very closely.


Next day was our lovely daughter Jess's birthday.  One thing about having kids is that it gives you a very clear, memorable marker of time.  I know what 28 years of my life feels like.  It really seems like several life times ago, and so much has changed in unimaginable ways.   A great day to celebrate, and we went out to a Japanese restaurant in Collingwood, which was a trip down memory lane in its own right.

Today I took the Mirror out.  Andrew took his laser, and very kindly took detours or just luffed up so I did not get left too far behind.  We headed over the visit buoy T28 but the the seals were not home.  It was still a good sail.  It reminded me what a great boat the Mirror is.   A couple of older chaps came up to have a chat while I was rigging up.  They looked very envious of my good fortune to be setting out.  I encouraged both to join the club and got their numbers to line up some future sailing days.


Oz was a very good boy on the trip today.  He is very accustomed to the Mirror and can find a comfortable spot out of the way. He slept most of the trip.   Approaching home, he had a good hard look at the two pelicans wading nearby,  but decided it wasn't worth getting yelled at or possibly pecked, and wisely decided to wait to be carried to shore.  Good boy!








Thursday, January 30, 2020

Seal again

A nice calm morning, winds around 5 knots up till midday, and not too hot. I launched the Core Sound,  and met Anne and Kate down at AYC at 10. Andrew was down there with his Laser. He took some nice photos. This one was just as I arrived. You can see Ozzie's head looking over the gunnel, calculating whether it is too far to shore to jump ship.


The Core Sound made between 2.5 and 3 knots, despite the light airs.



We sailed over to Altona pier then out to the reef mark, talking, drinking tea and eating banana cake. It was very civilized.



Andrew was pleased with the light conditions as he can stretch and stand. I don't think Lasers were designed with comfort in mind.



I dropped Anne and Kate back, Oz had some shore leave while Andrew packed up for the day, then Oz and I  set off again. I wasn't expecting it, but the wind kicked up to 15 knots Southerly. I had a honking good beat across to Williamstown. A good opportunity to get in touch with my inner adrenaline



I must have been getting a bit tired, for as I was making a bee line straight for the yellow buoy, I suddenly saw a South cardinal mark which I was blithely about to pass to its North. A couple of quick tacks and I avoided whatever unpleasantness might lie beneath there, and I was soon passing by buoy T28 which had two, possibly three seals peacefully  sunning themselves.


It was a great broad reach back home, i think I  did it in about 40 minutes, holding near 6 knots most of the way. I started the engine, dropped the main, and sailed in under mizzen. I should have turned head to wind as the wind was much stronger than last time and I realised, rather too late, I had no way to slow the boat after I let the mizzen sheet fly. I got a line round a cleat and we came to a very abrupt halt. We didn't break anything or hit anyone, so, as the pilots say, any landing you walk away from is a good landing. But head to wind if possible  next time.

The kids came over for dinner, and Anne was going out so I cooked dinner and cleaned up afterwards. I went to bed tired but very happy - my idea of a grand day.















Wednesday, January 22, 2020

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. 

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

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.




Monday, December 23, 2019

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.