Winter Trim

All summer long we had a 25' tall white fiberglass wall across the dock from us, made up of huge boats, blocking our view.  But now all those boats are gone, returning our view, but also exposing us directly to the winter storms.  You probably can't tell from the picture, but I am staring directly into the teeth of a 40-45 kt gale.

Where are they when you want them?

Lines & fenders, oh my!

So as we do every year, Eolian's dock lines get doubled and the number of fenders get more than doubled.  Here the secondary forward spring line is slack, waiting just in case the primary chafes thru.  It is a veritable spider web, and perhaps unnecessary, but we certainly feel better with two lines for each function (fwd breast, fwd spring, aft spring, aft breast) and the extra fenders.  As it turns out, it seems that our worst storms usually come from the southeast, meaning Eolian is held off the dock by the wind in the blows.  But that has its own problems...  it is difficult to board when there is 3' of open water between the dock step and the hull (as in the picture)... especially when carrying groceries...

"Just pull it in", you say.  But I'll venture you've never tried to pull 50,000 lb of boat in against 40 kt of wind.

Winter Trim

Spring Shakedown Complete: Nothing Broke!

Finally!

With all systems go, we were finally free to leave the dock on Saturday, May 7.   With Facebook seeming to tease us with posts from past years that showed us at anchor weeks earlier in the year, I was beginning to get a little anxious to be gone.

The first time off the dock every year is a little more daunting.  This is because the items on the checklist that are naturals after reinforced repetition over the summer have faded.  And then there is the worry about the close-quarters maneuverings needed at the dock - it is not learning all over again from scratch, but it is definitely not second nature either.  And then there are all those things that you worked on since last year.  Sure you checked them, and tested them...  but, well Murphy is always an unwelcome stowaway on every boat.

I am happy to report that the shakedown was pretty much uneventful.  Leaving the dock was a little exciting with a pretty stiff NW breeze causing the boat to weathercock off of the rudder, making it difficult to get away from the dock without the bow pulpit brushing the piling at the end of the finger pier. 

Well, OK, it did brush it... just.  No damage, no foul.

Ahhh...  sleeping at anchor

As it too often seems to be the case, the wind was on our nose coming our Guemes Channel, and then died off entirely as we entered Rosario Strait.  So we were a motor boat.  But we were away!  We anchored in Blind Bay (Honey, I'm home!) and spent the night, another day, and another nite there, luxuriating in the peace of being at anchor.  The only error I made was a failure to separate the battery banks after shutting the engine down... first-time-of-the-year failure.  Unfortunately, we slept thru the Aurora Borealis display Saturday nite.

Then, studying our Current Atlas (a book everyone navigating the waters of the San Juans should have), we decided on a trip to Roche Harbor, followed by a jump to Reid Harbor.  The Current Atlas really paid off, with the tide carrying us for 6 of the miles of that trip - motoring again because of a complete lack of wind. 

Required Roche Harbor ritual

We dropped the dinghy and went ashore because there were some things that had to be done:

• We were out of coffee!  Get a pound at the store.
• Visit with Jill and get caught up with the crew of s/v Ambition.
• No visit to Roche Harbor is complete for us without clams and a bottle of wine at the Roche Harbor Hotel.  And we got to catch up with our favorite server there, "Crash" (Jayne) and found out she is engaged!   

And then back out to the boat to enjoy a quiet evening.

Evening peace in Roche Harbor

The next morning, we rose, and after consulting the Current Atlas again, determined our departure for the quick jaunt across Spieden Channel to Reid Harbor on Stuart Island.  

Now, Reid is one of those places without telephone or internet coverage.  So our stay there was NOT spent staring at our phones or the computer.  Instead we went ashore and did some relaxed hiking.  In fact we met one of the few Stuart Island residents, who was working as a volunteer on the park facilities, and had a nice chat.

Eolian and curmudgeon in Reid Harbor

After another peaceful nite (20 kt winds had been forecast - part of the reason for the location choice for this nite - but they never materialized), we motored back to Blind Bay for the final night of our trip.

While on the journey, we found some other shakedown items:

• Our flares need to be replaced - they are nearing their expiration date. (Done.)
• For some reason, I forgot to purchase our 2016 state registration.  Last year's expires 6/30/2016, so getting a new one coming is a priority.  (Ordered.)
• The rechargeable battery in our wireless handheld mic for the VHF will now only hold enough electrons for about an hour of operation.  (New battery pack ordered.  Actually, 3 battery packs are coming, and what a diversity of prices!  Amazon wants $45 for this battery pack, and I got 3 of them, delivered, for $5.69 on eBay.  Always do the research!)

So, all in all, a good shakedown and a successful first cruise of the year!

Spring Shakedown Complete: Nothing Broke!

Memory Test

Calm first nite of the year, at anchor in Blind Bay

Operating any boat requires that you have a good memory.  Just think about all the things and procedures that you have to keep in mind just to get off the dock.  The bigger the boat, the more systems.  The more systems, the more that needs to be kept in mind.

So here's a partial list from Eolian's "ready for sea" list:

• Forward head items stowed or put in sink
• Pictures laid flat in safe locations
• Refrigerator door pinned
• Galley counter cleared of loose items
• Wine glass rack closed
• Aft head items stowed or put in sink
• [...]

 And for the first time off the dock for the year, those lists held in memory might be a little fuzzy.  And they are longer... because the boat is still in "winter configuration".

When we first got Eolian we had an actual written checklist that we used when getting ready to leave the dock.  And we used it religiously for a long time, years in fact.  But after more than a decade moored in the same place, the list became, well, a hassle.  We remembered everything, right?

Fast forward to the first time off the dock in the first spring in Cap Sante marina.  We went thru the normal "first time off the dock" list that starts with:

• Take off the winter fenders and take them up the dock to the Suburban
• Take off the winter-doubled docklines
• Check the water tanks for water sufficient for the planned trip (Eolian holds 300 gallons - trips less than a couple of weeks don't require full tanks)
• Check the fuel tanks (as above)
• [...]

 And then we started the engine, checked for water discharge, discussed what strategy to use when backing out of the slip given the current wind, checked for traffic in the waterway, and removed all but the bow and stern lines.  I released the stern line, got aboard and put the transmission in reverse.  At the same time Jane released the bow line and also climbed aboard.

I have learned that the best strategy to use when backing out of the slip is to advance the throttle "with authority" (as Art of Phoenix Rising used to say) - it minimizes the prop walk - and then put the transmission in neutral.  All went as planned.  For about a half a second.  And then the bow swung wildly to starboard, heading for the other boat that shares our slip.  As soon as this happened, I switched the transmission to forward and cranked the wheel to stop the boat's movement.  Thankfully, there was no contact with anything.

Then a brief burst in reverse to correct for my panicked over-correction.   Another half second of reflection brought home the conclusion:  we still had a dockline on somewhere.  And at that same moment, Jane spotted the offending line - led from the starboard bow.

With that line removed the rest of our undocking was uneventful, albeit drenched with adrenaline.  

What happened?

Here's the deconstruction of the event.  In all the years we were at Shilshole, our slip opened to the south - the direction the prevailing winter storms come from.  Of course we had a line led from the boat to the end of the finger slip, but there was no way to run a line from the other side of the boat to anything.  But at Cap Sante, our slip opens to the north.  This means that we can have two lines running upwind from the bow to the dock - one to our finger pier and one to a cleat on the dock proper. 

Guess which line we missed.

Yeah, that one.

So we failed the memory test, both of us did.  Or I should say that we passed the memory test with flying colors, but memory alone was insufficient.  An alert, conscious, complete final check would have revealed that we had left a line on, a line that we had never used in any previous year.  So, now there is a final item on the checklist, right before "release the docklines and engage the transmission":

• Be present in this moment, not thinking about 30 seconds down the line.  Make a final, calm, complete check of everything, uncolored by the excitement of getting off the dock.

Will we remember this new item?  And not let it become so routine that we are just going thru the motions?

I hope so.

---

Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

Memory Test

The Captain Ron Turn

If you read this blog, you've almost certainly watched Captain Ron.  (If not - what?  Get thee to Netflix!).  One of the most memorable scenes in the movie is when Captain Ron pulls his famous turn while docking at the Saint Hoggs Yacht Club:

We've all dreamed of pulling that off... but I'll wager that very few (if any!) of you dear readers have actually tried it.  Wanna know how?  Our local Sailing magazine, 48° North, posted a Captain Ron Turn howto article in their January issue - it starts on page 73.  Really!

I recommend the article to you (disclaimer:  I haven't tried it yet...).  You never know when you might need to dock at Saint Hoggs...

The Captain Ron Turn

Drama on the dock

Monday was a blustery morning, wind 20+ kt, cold, and spitting rain.  I think you can imagine it.  And it was this morning when our neighbor, s/v Wander Bird, prepared to pull out of our shared horseshoe to head to the yard for work.  Now, Wander Bird is a tall boat - she is a Nauticat 52 - lots of wind area.  That will be important in a minute.

Ever the prudent mariner, Ethan shifted into forward and reverse while still tied up, to ensure that all was in working order.  When all was ready, he started to back out of the slip.  I had the bow line, to keep the bow from blowing downwind (and incidentally, into Eolian).  It was a perfect departure, despite the contrary high wind.

And then out in the waterway between the docks, Ethan shifted into forward and gunned the engine to stop the backward progress and to turn the boat to go down the waterway.

Except that the gearshift linkage broke and she was still in reverse.

So the burst of throttle only served to increase her backward speed.  The helm was over in preparation for the forward turn down the waterway, so the net effect is that Wander Bird made a 180° turn stern-first, heading back to the dock.  Amazingly, Ethan coolly killed the engine and steered her so that she ran into the piling at the end of the finger pier instead of either of the two boats tied to that finger.  The inflatable dinghy on davits at Wander Bird's stern gave its all, acting as an exploding airbag to cushion the impact.  Kind of like a Mars lander - well, a 65,000 lb Mars lander.

I had been walking back to Eolian after the successful departure when the commotion started.  I turned around and ran to the end of the finger pier, arriving just after the impact.  And now the wind really began to make itself felt.  It blew the bow down, laying Wander Bird across that piling at the end of the finger pier and the piling at the end of the next finger pier, pinning her there.  I got on the swim platform of one of the boats to fend off.  For the moment, things were sort of stable, and we discussed what to do next.

Ethan decided that the best action would be to go bow-in to the empty slip next to the boat I was on - all we'd need to do would be to back up Wander Bird (upwind!) 4 or 5 feet, and the bow would blow into the slip.  The trick would be to get enough of the boat into the slip by the time that she was parallel to the finger so that the wind wouldn't pivot her on the end of the finger and swing her back out into the waterway again.

Long story short: we made it.   And then they got a mechanic aboard to fix the linkage, at least temporarily.  And today Wander Bird is in the yard, as planned...  with one more item on the list, I think.

Drama on the dock

How to make a line fast to a cleat

Picture this:

You've just done a masterful job of putting your boat up against the dock, perhaps executing the perfect Captain Ron turn.  Now you need to keep her there, using your dock lines. What do you do?

(This will not be a discussion of breast lines, spring lines, etc...  we'll save that for another time)

Whatever the configuration of dock lines you use, it will be necessary to make the lines fast to cleats on the dock (or perhaps the boat).  How do you do that?

Here's what we do on Eolian:

Around the far end

First, lead the line around the horn of the cleat that is away from the direction of pull.  In the picture above, that is the top horn. 

Over the top

Next, lead the line around the other horn, and then cross over the top of the cleat.

Under and over again

Now lead the line under the far horn again. Because you did the cross-over, you will now be going in the opposite direction, compared to your first pass under this horn.  Cross over the top yet again.

Yes.

Now the final step, which seems to be where many people go astray.  Make a loop of line with the tail on the under side.  Pass the loop over the horn closest to the load and snug it up.  There are two ways to do this - only one is correct...  this is the one which results in the line laying parallel to the first pass over the top of the cleat and under the second pass, as in the picture above.

No.

If you make the loop the wrong way, you'll get a knot that looks like this. It's ugly.  And I believe that this is one of those times when ugly = bad.  Since there is considerably less contact between passing turns of line in the ugly knot, there is less friction... and it is friction which keeps the knot tied.

More knots are not necessary.  Eolian has spent many, many winters tied to the dock just like this.  Never once has a dock line loosened.  However:

• If you are preparing for a hurricane, you'll want more knots... and more lines!
• If the dock line is unusually slippery and/or the cleat is polished, you may need to double the knot
• If the dock line is very small for the size of the cleat (say, a dinghy painter), you might add a second knot

If you choose to add a second knot, follow the same pattern:  have the tail come out on the under side so that it lies parallel to the previous passing turn.  You'll know when you get it right.

Now that the line is made fast, what do you do with the extra?  When we first moved out to Shilshole, we flemished our dock line tails like this:

Otter target

However we discovered that this provided the ideal target for the otters who live under the dock to dump their daily loads of crushed and undigested mussel shells.  Who knows how the mind of an otter works?

Hard centered target

Now, we just wrap the tail around the cleat. Yes, this is still perceived by the otters as a target, and we occasionally get anointed.  But apparently the hard center is less comfortable to tender otter exhaust ports than the soft, flat flemish coil.

Don't just leave the tails laying on the dock.  Aside from the obvious tripping hazard, the otters will gather them up into a pile and then anoint the pile.

The best arrangement is if someone else has made flemish coils nearby...

How to make a line fast to a cleat

Now here's an idea whose time has come...

How to get that first line ashore when you are approaching a dock? Here's a simple idea, available from DockWand, that we all, every one of us, need to have on one of our spring lines:



Giving credit where credit is due, this was seen first at The World Encompassed.
I'll be looking for this item at the Seattle Boat Show this coming weekend.

Now here's an idea whose time has come...

Destination: Everett

If you arrived here by searching for a chart, please see this page.

---

With more than 2300 slips, the Everett marina is unquestionably the largest in Puget Sound (they claim to be the largest on the entire West Coast).  Quoting directly from their website:

The marina is protected by approximately 1,800 lineal feet of guest moorage that is available on the marina’s two breakwater floats located at the entrance of the marina.

It was constructed in two phases: the north portion was built in the mid 1960s and the south portion in the early 1980s. In 2007, the new 12th Street Yacht Basin will open with 155 permanent moorage slips and more than 70 spots for visiting boaters.

See that yellow buoy/lite ("AO"), just South of the shoal, near the end of the jetty?  Well, let me tell you that it is *very* hard to pick it out at night, against the shoreline, with all of the yellow flashing lites on traffic signals, barricades, etc.

The marina is not located directly on the sound - it is slightly upstream on the Snohomish River. Being on a river, the guest docks make for an interesting experience.  If you approach the dock going upriver, you can manage your speed thru the water such that you are essentially stationary over thee bottom.  Then all you need to do is give slight starboard rudder, and the boat will move sideways up to the dock.  But be ready with those docklines!  You may be stationary with respect to the dock, but you are still moving thru the water - do not stop the engines or go into neutral until the lines are made fast (bow, and forward spring first, please).

Tho it is on a river, the marina basin itself is protected from the river current because it is in a dredged area, off of the river channel.   But if you should moor inside in the marina proper, instead of outside on the guest float like we do, you will need to be prepared when exiting the basin.  At the depths of an ebb tide, the current can be substantial - you need to point upstream and be prepared to be swept downstream as your bow enters the current.


Be careful of those pilings!  They are on the outside of the dock, and it would be very easy to hook your bowsprit inside of one of them when docking.  I'm pretty sure that would lead to a disaster of some kind.

Jane picks the oysters

Just above the marina itself are a number of nice shops and restaurants.  In particular, we enjoy the Anthony's there, as it is right above the dock!

Should you be interested in long-term moorage, the rates at Everett are 72% of those at Shilshole, (at least for our slip size), and there are many openings.

You can contact the marina on VHF-16, or at (425) 259-6001.

Destination: Everett

I learned about sailing from that: Always have a backup plan!

This is a guest column, written by Mike & Rebecca aboard s/v Katana. This is an expanded version of the original post, written specifically for Windborne in Puget Sound.

---

If ever there was a time when circumstances aligned to cause us problems, the first day moving our boat this season was it.

Although launch day was calm and uneventful, including the mast stepping which followed (I won't mention the lightning storm that began just as I was tightening the rigging), the wind had picked up considerably the next day. As more boat launches were scheduled, we told the marina owners that we would get there early and move our boat a few slips down the dock to make way.

Our boat's engines had sat without running for just shy of 6 months and thus I was a bit apprehensive about how well they would perform. Because of this, we let the engines run at idle for a good 15 minutes before casting off to move the boat. At this point the winds were blowing from our stern quarter at a good 20 knots. Nothing we hadn't experienced before, but we did make a note of it and considered how it would affect the boat's movement.

Strangely, the marina yard was, just then, empty. If one of the staff had have been around, or even one of the other boat owners, there is a good chance that I would have asked him to stand by on the dock to catch a line as we made our approach to the new slip. But again, docking with just the two of us was something we had done many times in the previous season, so we didn't bother going to look for help. With me at the helm, Rebecca cast off the lines as we had planned.

Almost from the beginning it didn't work out quite as we had hoped and Rebecca had to move quickly to even get on the boat. The wind took hold, causing us to accelerate and almost instantly we were being blown across the water towards the adjacent dock. No problem... I'll just shift the engines into reverse. Problem! They both stalled! Fortunately, with only a few feet to spare, I was able to restart them quickly and shift to reverse. This stopped our forward motion but again, the wind had moved us off course and we were now past the slip that we initially intended to dock in. As this was very early in the season, the entire dock was virtually empty, and thus we rapidly decided to make way into the next slip. Again the engines stalled and we were blown past it. This wind-blowing-engine-stalling process repeated itself until we had moved from the very first slip in the dock all the way out into the bay. At this point I had visions of our engine problems allowing us to be taken right across to the opposite shoreline! No problem... we have a sailboat. We'll just raise our sails to control our motion. Problem! The sails had not yet been rigged! OK, still no problem... if we really get into trouble we'll just drop our anchor. Another problem. Even the anchors had not yet been set! They were stored below, as they had been all winter, instead of being fixed on the bow, ready to deploy, as they normally are.

Was there a happy ending? Yes, what could have been a disaster for us resolved itself favorably. We ultimately got the engines running and were able to maneuver ourselves back to our desired slip. Although the docking process was ugly to say the least, the boat made it there without a scratch (thanks in part to the rubber bumpers on the corner of the dock and to Rebecca's aggressive fending-off).

Lessons learned:

• The first lesson, and one that was drilled into us from our first sailing course, is to not let Mother Nature get one up on us. Although we had considered the wind's effect on our movement, we failed to pay it enough heed.


• Although we had anticipated that we may have had engine issues, we failed to test them fully prior to casting off. We should have.


• Why didn't we seek help when all it would have taken is a quick walk to find one of the marina staff, or even easier, a quick call on the radio to the office? I would have to say that we (I) let our ego take over. We shouldn't have to ask for help to move our own boat, should we? Yes, given the circumstances, asking to have someone stand by would have been prudent, and it sure would have been helpful.


• What about the sails and the anchors? This could be one of the biggest lessons. We had no backup plan. No fail-safe. There always needs to be a backup, and if possible, a backup to that backup.

Good fortune was actually with us that day because we were able to have some important lessons driven home to us without it costing us any money. That isn't often the case!

Mike and Rebecca
s/v Katana
http://www.zerotocruising.com

---

Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

I learned about sailing from that: Always have a backup plan!

I learned about sailing from that: Single Handing in the Fog

This is a guest column written by Livia aboard SV Estrellita 5.10b. This is an expanded version of the original post, written specifically for Windborne in Puget Sound.

---

I first single handed our 35' Wauquiez Pretorien from Friday Harbor, WA across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Port Townsend, WA and then on to Edmonds, WA. I was nervous and spent a great deal of time focusing on heavy weather, sail plans, solo anchoring and potential in-boat emergencies.

To avoid solo docking which I had not yet practiced, my husband sailed with me from Sidney BC to Friday Harbor to clear customs and my father arranged to meet me at the docks in Kingston, WA where I would touch-and-go to pick him up before heading into the Edmonds marina. I planned an overnight stop on anchor at Port Townsend.

I left my husband Carol at the customs dock in Friday Harbor after anchoring out overnight in the harbor:


Just South of Friday Harbor in San Juan Channel I saw a fog bank in front of me:


Here is where I went wrong. I should have gone back to Friday Harbor and waited out the fog. Instead, I thought I would go "through it". Of course, there is no "through it". There is more fog.

So with radar, my fog horn, and Navsim electronic charting software I emergency navigated into MacKay Harbor.

Our GPS antenna which had been sporadically losing connection began sporadically losing connection while in the narrowest part of San Juan channel. I could see other boats, mostly small fishing vessels, on radar but my visibility was down to a few boat lengths. I honked my horn at any contact and spent that hour running up and down to the radar screen at the nav table and back to the cockpit.

I used the radar to complement my electronic charts to verify that I was, in fact, where I thought I was in the channel because I could not see the sides. I also used the radar to verify my route through the rocky islands.

You can see my planned route due South and, after anchoring, my new route out of MacKay Harbor:


In addition to radar, electronic charts and my fog horn I also hoisted our radar reflector and called my husband to give him my coordinates and the situation.

Once inside MacKay Harbor I dropped anchor in the relative middle of the harbor without bothering to set it (no wind) and sat in the cockpit reviewing what had happened. I made a time estimate on getting to Port Townsend before dark and decided that if the fog had completely cleared before early afternoon I would peek out of the harbor and if the fog had completely cleared in the Strait of Juan de Fuca I would continue to Port Townsed.

Here is the bank of the harbor from where I dropped anchor in fog:


Several hours later, this is the same view of the harbor as I left it in the sun:


The fog lifted and I crossed the Strait anticlimactically. No wind and a sunny motor to Port Townsend where I dropped anchor for the second time that day by myself. I spent a nice night there and then motored in no wind to Kingston where I did a touch-and-go pick up of my father at Kingston and he helped me dock in Edmonds, WA.

Overall single handing was pivotal. I feel more in control of the boat and a lot more confident in my own skills. Although the fog was an unnecessary risk not to be repeated, it showed me how much I've learned about radar and navigation generally. I have a sense of where and in what conditions I can anchor by myself and at least "un-dock" the boat by myself which I did several times.

Lessons learned:

• If you are in a safe place and there is fog ahead of you, stay put. If you have an avenue of retreat, and there is fog ahead of you, go back to a safe place and wait it out.
• If a safety or navigation item in your boat is in need of repair, either repair it or make sure a good spare is handy. We should have fixed our GPS antenna line earlier and if not, we have a handheld GPS and should have had it handy instead of my having to dig it out while simultaneously doing a dozen other things.
• Don't let stressors (like heavy weather) stop you from thinking clearly about other factors. In other situations this lesson has helped us remember that when we are stressed about a situation, such as docking in a tight spot, that those are particularly good moments to go through all of the safety items needed but not at the top of your mind, such as PFDs, turning down the VHF radio, etc.

---

Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.

(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

I learned about sailing from that: Single Handing in the Fog

Brakes? What brakes?

Maneuvering Eolian at speed while under way in the open is easy and intuitive, even for the novice, recently come up from an O'Day 25.

Maneuvering in close quarters at low speed is another kettle of fish entirely. A review of our early log entries shows that this was an issue which received a lot of attention. And rightfully so.

First, with any vessel (unless equipped with a bow thruster), the helmsman has control only over the stern. The thrust is applied at the stern, and the rudder is at the stern, or nearly so. This is very different than an automobile, where the driver controls the front of the vehicle, and it takes a lot of getting used to. For example, if you find that you are too far out as you approach the dock, applying rudder will force the stern further out, in order to get it behind the bow to push it more towards the dock.

Eolian, like all vessels of her size, is an inboard - all of our previous boats were outboard equipped. Making the switch from outboard (or I/O) to inboard is a very significant conceptual leap. With an outboard, you steer via directed thrust, that is, the thrust produced by the motor can be directed to port or starboard by turning the motor (or outdrive). But with an inboard, the thrust line is fixed, dead astern. However, the rudder is positioned so that it is in the middle of the river of water being moved astern by the prop. Therefore, side thrust can be developed by turning the rudder. Tho this works, it is not nearly as effective as directing the stream of water itself. And it is completely ineffective when moving astern... the boat is not moving at enough speed so that the rudder movement thru the water has any significant effect, and the prop slipstream is blowing forward, where there is no rudder. (The flow of water coming into the prop is diffuse and provides no effective steerage.)

Then, there is the issue of prop walk. When the engine is engaged astern, the boat will move significantly sideways, as well as astern. There are a lot of explanations for this phenomenon - the way I visualize it is this: The prop is not operating in free water, where everything is the same everywhere. Instead, the top of the prop is close to the hull, while the bottom is in free water. This means that the sideways motion of water thrown from the prop tips is different at the top, where it is restricted by the hull, than the bottom where it is not. Therefore, the prop acts sort of like a wheel mounted sideways at the stern with very poor traction. If the wheel is turning clockwise (as viewed from astern), then there will be a tendency for the stern of the boat to walk to starboard (right). Whether or not this is an accurate rendition of the physics involved, it certainly helps me to understand how Eolian will react. The same phenomenon occurs when the engine is engaged forward, however it is largely masked because the prop wash over the rudder gives a much more authoritative response to the wheel. Eolian's propeller turns clockwise when engaged forward, and counterclockwise when in reverse. This means that Eolian's stern moves to port (left) when she is reversed.

Finally, there is momentum. Figuring Eolian at 50,000 lb would be about right. Nothing happens fast, and you live with the results of previous control actions far longer than you might think. And the consequences of a collision at even low speed are significant, because of the magnitude of the forces involved.

So, docking. The objective is to arrive near enough to the dock for Jane to step off with a line and tie off to a cleat. You should arrive at the dock with zero velocity, so that there is no damage, and so that there is no bounce. And although you are in control of a vehicle longer, wider, and heavier than a city bus, you have no brakes. If you use reverse to bleed off forward momentum, the stern shifts to port. If there is wind, it blows against the bow, which then tries to act as a flag and stream downwind. It isn't easy, therefore you do what you can to remove difficulties.

Because Eolian walks to port when reversed, we elect to have a slip with a port tie. This means that when I reverse to bleed off forward momentum, the stern walks toward the dock. One issue neutralized.

Because of the configuration of the breakwater at Shilshole, there is a significant current flowing towards shore, out at the end of G dock, whenever the tide is running. So we elect to arrive at the dock at or near slack water whenever the tidal change is large. Another issue neutralized.

We have chosen a slip which faces north, because the prevailing winds are out of the north in the summer, when we do the majority of our docking. Approaching the dock with the bow firmly on one side of the wind means that it will not suddenly fall off as we slow. Another issue minimized.

Nevertheless, when docking we always have all of our fenders out, and never, never, NEVER take anything for granted.

And finally, when the lines are tied up and the engine is shut down, we breathe a sigh of relief, and celebrate with a beer (even if it is 09:00). And we almost always do a post-mortem, trying to see if there was a way we might have done things better. Usually there is.

I almost left this part out because this didn't start out as a "dock life" posting, but it really needs to be. Almost always when you approach the dock, there will be folks there waiting on the finger pier to catch your lines. This is important because by tossing a line to someone on the dock, you can get a line on a cleat, handled by skilled folks, even if you are too far from the dock. And we all do this for each other. On a Sunday afternoon, when lots of boats are coming back in, we are all alert to the sight of a familiar mast moving by outside the breakwater, or of someone turning into the waterway, and hustle down to their slip to catch lines and help them tie up. And of course this provides the perfect opportunity to find out where they went, and how the trip worked out.

And then there is one more person to help catch the next set of lines.

Brakes? What brakes?

From the log: The first voyage

It was quite an adventure. I must preface everything I say with the caveat that we got a lot of boat for the money. The corollary to this is that some of the boat that we got isn't all there. That said...

Saturday, November 1, 1997
We arrived in Bellingham in the late afternoon, tired after the looonnngg drive from Spokane. We bought enough provisions to get thru a few days, unloaded a Blazer-load of stuff onto Eolian, and settled in for the evening. Task 1: get the refrigerator working. After some arbitrary experimenting, we found that the breaker marked "Refrigerator" didn't turn on the refer, nor did the breaker marked "Freezer" turn on the refer or the freezer, but if both were on, then the refer and the freezer would come on. 20 years of hacked wiring and a harbinger of work to come...

We had a nice dinner, and turned in early.

Sunday
Today was devoted to familiarization. I pored over the blueprints and crawled thru the bilges trying to learn everything I could. My primary objective was to find out how much fuel we had on board (the Previous Owner had said that there was more than 100 gal in each of the tanks), how much water, and how much waste in the holding tank. After 4 very frustrating hours, we found: the 2 water gauges don't work. The two fuel gages don't work. There is no way to tell if the holding tank is full, other than the sudden presence of a bad odor when the head is flushed. I also found yet another 2 anchors, a spare prop, and more storage than I could have imagined.

We wanted to move the boat from the broker's slip to the visitor's dock so that we would have an easy time of leaving on Monday morning, and I wanted some practice in boat-handling... with the bowsprit and the davits, the boat is 52' long. Adding the rubber dingy to the davits makes nearly 60 feet. Getting this out of the slip at the broker's was NOT easy. I didn't hit anything, and only had to back up once... when the handline on the dingy caught on the fire hydrant on the dock, and stretched the dingy like a rubber band. The line broke, but the dingy still holds air - this is one time when rotten rope was a good thing... Docking at the visitor's dock was pretty much uneventful, although I should have approached much more slowly. I misjudged the balance between windage and momentum (the wind was blowing pretty strong at that point). Momentum rules. Big time.

We experimented with lighting the Dickenson cabin heater, and found it to be very capable of keeping the cabin toasty warm when the temp is in the 30's outside.

Monday
We pulled away from the dock at about 7:30 (not yet on island time...) and headed south under engine power. One of the early tasks - in the first couple of hours - was to get the primary autopilot working. We had the remote on a long cable, but still needed to find the main control panel in order to make the remote operational. When we did find it (in the back of the cockpit, behind one of the cushions), the auto pilot was a real blessing. It allowed us the freedom to move around (yet still keeping a lookout for logs - there are lots of these).

The plan was to go south thru the Swinomish Passage, rather than to go all the way around Whidbey Island. This is a neat little cut, that goes from east of Anacortes down to LaConner in the south. The entrance at either end of the passage is dredged thru tidal mud flats, so it is critical to pay attention to the buoys/markers/lights, etc. Just at the north end of the passage, the engine coughed a couple of times, and quit. BIG PANIC. I charged Jane with deciding when the anchor needed to go down to keep us off the mud, as we were drifting in that direction due to tidal current, and I went below. My first thought was that there wasn't really 100 gallons of fuel in each of the tanks, so I switched from port to starboard tank. rrrrrrrrrrr... nothing. Next, a little tickle in the back of my head made me look at the operating notes that the owner had left. Sure enough, in getting the Dickenson heater working last night, I had left the valving in a configuration which forced all the diesel to go thru a small electric fuel pump *before* it went to the more than adequate filter bank ahead of the engine. See, there is this little tiny screen in the pump, and the smallest chunk of glop will plug it off... So some valving changes were made, and rrrrrrrrr... nothing. Next part of the process: gotta bleed the air out of the fuel system. Talk about learning under pressure! I had brought my tools with me (good thing... there wasn't even a screwdriver on board), and I bled the pump... rrrrrrrrrrrr... nothing. Knowing that you have three battery banks, fully charged, is a comforting feeling. Last resort... crack the line feeding the highest injector... pssttssttsst a bunch of bubbles came out. rrrrrrr... rumblerumblerumble! Its a good thing that we hadn't made it to the shallow water. Learning how to operate the anchor windlass under panic conditions would not have been good. I will now *always* check the fuel valving before we leave. I also have on my to do list to re-plumb the entire fuel system. There are enough valves down there to run a nuclear power plant.

LaConner was beautiful, making the long putt down the passage well worthwhile. At the southern end, looking back between high cliffs, there is a graceful steel arch bridge over the passage, and pure white Mt. Baker was framed in it.

I will leave out the other hours of the trip, except to say that the warm, cloudless skies couldn't have been more ideal... kind of unbelievable for November weather.

Unfortunately, the trip is more than a day long. We had decided to overnight in Everett, given where we were. But we didn't make it in daylight. So we turned on the running lights (can you guess?) nothing. Not wishing to drop parts into the sea, and knowing that there was very little traffic, we just barged ahead, using a flashlight bungeed to the stern pulpit, and running the one functioning spreader light.

Picking up navigation markers at night with a backdrop of city lights is *hard*... but you must do it, since the entrance to Everett is a dredged channel. The buoy marking the point where you must turn into the channel is yellow, and has a yellow flashing light on it. Kind of hard to pick out against all those flashing yellow lights on construction barricades, etc. on shore. But we made it without incident, although finding the marina was not too easy. The ever-present restaurants made it easier. Docking was pretty neat... the channel is actually a river bed, and there is a substantial current - maybe 2 knots. So I just idled ahead at 2 knots (stationary with respect to the shore) and slowly sidled up against the dock. One of the people on the dock actually complemented us on our landing... if he only knew...

It turned out that we tied up directly across from one of the Cooper 416's we had looked at... This put the cap on it... there is no question that we got the right boat.

More fun finding the inverter and getting it online (there was no 110v on the dock where we were tied up) so that we could run some appliances... and the TV. Unfortunately, tho, I fell asleep in the middle of the X-files.

Tuesday
Ice on the docks this morning!

We left without further incident, and continued south. There were only two incidents worth mentioning between Everett and Seattle...

1. At the south end of the Saratoga passage, two fishermen had their nets completely blocking off the channel by positioning them in an overlapping manner. One of them had to come over and warn me - I had missed his buoy in the sun-sparkle on the water. He was polite and friendly, and I think he knew that this was not a good idea.
2. A pod of maybe a dozen Orcas surfaced maybe 100 yds off the port bow. They were moving in such a direction that I was sure to hit them, so I veered 90 degrees to the right and went around them. They are Big!, and they were just playing... fins, heads, tails, spouts all sticking out of the water at one time or another. I went below to get the camera, but at our closest approach, they sounded, only surfacing again when they were too far astern to make a good picture.

Arriving at the Seattle Ship Canal from the north, Seattle doesn't look like a city at all from the sea! You have to be quite close to shore to see the houses in between the trees - from further out, it just looks like more coastline!

The wind had come up to 25 knots during the day, and the entrance to the Ship Canal had 3 foot waves in it. Because we were tired, worried about how to make the bridges come up, worried about the locks, and still a little unsure about boat handling in close quarters, we decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and tucked in to the Shilshole marina to wait for the wind to lay.

This turned out to be a good decision, because we got in touch with Erica who had dinner with us at Ray's Boat House, and because we went to the locks and talked with the lockman on duty for quite some time regarding procedure and custom. It was well worth while.


Wednesday
Winds are calm this morning, thank goodness.

We left the marina to try to time things so that we would be able to open the bridges (they don't open 7-9 am due to rush hour traffic). Doing the locks and the bridges is not difficult, knowing how it is supposed to work. For the bridges, you simply give them a little warning (long, short horn blast), and they will have the span up when you get there. The locks were pretty easy too, but I suspect that on a summer Sunday evening, waiting for a spot and getting into the lock with a million other boats would be a whole lot more complicated and difficult. I think we'll try to avoid this.


So... Eolian is currently tied up at slip 13 at the Yale Street Landing (SE corner of Lake Union).

From the log: The first voyage