From the Log 5/18/19

"Mr. Barcus" at the helm in Elmo Bay

1305: WF (Windfinder) 5kts, NW (course), 1.7kts (Speed), Below Ramp at BA (Big Arm)

1342: Cleared BA Headland Entered Elmo bay 1st Reef in, WNW, 2.9kts

1436: Below Cromwell Narrows 2nd Reef in, N, 3.4kts

1505: Forced to wear ship due to wave action. Repeatedly 2nd Reef, E, 3.0kts Still Below Narrows
*Vessel undercanvassed for conditions. 1st reef solved tacking issue

1611: Mouth of Cromwell Narrows, Electric Spanker, no sail, standard speed #3, E, 1.4kts

1656: Cromwell channel tacking failed try again tomorrow

1725: Motor Mount is broken, 1st reef running, SSW 2.3kts

Submitted by 3rd Lt. Mowat of S/V Kat Boat

Take Your Best Half

"I awoke at 5:00AM. "Good Morning," my best half greeted me.
"Bullshit," my worst half replied.
"Am I going to have to put up with you all day?" the best half asked the worst half.
"Everyone else has to put with me," the worse replied.
"Well, I'm not going to, not today, and I'm not doing what you tell me to do."
"You do the same thing ever day," the worst half sneered.
"Not today, I'm going sailing."
"You can't. You'll be fired. You've got the bills to pay. People rely on you. The work you do will never get done."
"Bullshit," the best half repeated the worst half's original response the morning. "And stay here," the good half continued.
"What?" the worst half screamed.
"You stay home," the best half commanded, "I don't want you on my boat."
On the way out I slammed the door and locked it. "Well, I may be only half here," I said to myself, "but I've got the best half today."
-Tom McGrath Voyages of the Damn Foole 

 This singular passage in one of my favorite books sums up what it was to go sailing this weekend. There was a messabout planned but all the usual suspects were to wiley and weather savvy to show up. Had a lake wind advisory on Sunday and in the warning it said explicitly that small craft were prone to capsizing in the possible weather. So Saturday it was just me and Kat Boat as The Lady had to work and would be joining me later.
 I managed to get on the water around eleven or so, an hour past when I had planned. You know what they say about planning and things. I was moping a meaningful relationship lost due to my failings but sailing was on my mind and that loss and all other worries I've had while on the hard melted away the minute I got out of the car and started prepping the boat in the parking area. This was going to be the first time out out this year but I have been dreaming and practicing this last October.
 In truth I had gotten the boat on the water a few days before but that was a battery powered muddle around Salmon and no great shakes. Didn't even get the mast up. This was going to be the real deal. As I went through my mental checklist (I need to write it down) I was taking constant note of the weather. It was blowing a bit. And while not concerning it definitely had my attention.
 I often say when I'm sailing that I have a low threshold of fun. Many times I have hit my "End of fun" point and called it a day. Now it should be noted that as I've learned the water and the art of sailing my threshold level of fun has gone up. But a true Force 3 is  my empirical limit of fun and the most wind I want by choice. Observing scattered white horses galloping across the water is enough to give me thoughtful pause. I've been out in that and more, but the more always came after I was already on the water and could do little about it. My 1962 Lido 14 Esmerelda loved these conditions, her skipper not so much. It was enough for me go stand at the waters edge and just take it all in. The voice of caution began it's usual song. Was it getting worse? Did I believe it would get worse? How well do I know my boat?
The questions continued even once I coaxed the boat into the water. I watched her pull on her lines as she did her best rocking horse impression on the foot tall swells and that little voice continued. Was the second reef enough? Are you really prepared? To quote Tom Pamperin of Jagular Goes Everywhere fame: "The hell with it." I parked the car and trailer, tightened my life jacket, threw off my lines and with a skateboard like push from the starboard locker I headed out into the bay.
 It was lumpy to say the least. I was taking the occasional spray of cold lake water over the bow but my boat was designed for this and rode like a dump truck. After only a few minutes I was noticing the motion of the boat was off and sluggish. I shook out the second reef. The boat straightened right up. Within twenty minutes I was at all plain sail, which is easy with only a single sail, and making good speed if not good VmG.

Full and by

 The plan was to make Dayton Bay to take pictures of the almost empty Yacht Harbor, but short tacking is not the way to go about that from Big Arm. I did however purposely come close to shore and ring my bell at the campers who watched in what I imagine was awe of my sailing prowess. Quite a jaunty spectacle I think. My fouly jacket easily kept me warm and dry and the tiller and mainsheet sailing was a hoot. We tacked and gybed, ran and beat. I got to know the boat a bit more and she did not disappoint. Steering is incredibly neutral with not pulling at all but there is a nagging lee helm if unattended. Mike, the original builder noted this and it appears it was never corrected. It will be. I was taking reefs in and out as the day progressed and very pleased that my two part jiffy reefing system worked well. Kat Boat doesn't heel to inform me a reef is needed like some boats do. She will however stop tacking when under canvased or not answer her helm when overpowered.

Mainsheet belayed and single finger steering

 She is also a bit sloppy in stays when tacking if I'm to be honest. As you come to a halt mid tack her rudder all but stops working for about three seconds allowing you to fall off quite a bit before she picks up way and answers like a good boat again. It takes some mental energy to remember to wait and not simply crank the tiller harder, which compounds the issue. Thankfully she, unlike some boats, is relatively quiet while sailing and not prone to snappy comebacks or fits of sarcasm at the skippers expense. It is very much appreciated. As we thundered and banged our way through the top of Elmo Bay the serene quiet and beauty of the lake overtook me. I was breathing in fresh lake air and seeing the a world that no other sailor sees this early in the season. Well not many I think. I engaged the self steering, ate a sandwich and prepared for the geometry problem that is the entrance to Cromwell Channel.
 In the half  a decade I've been sailing out of Big Arm not once have I managed to hit the entrance of the channel just right. The winds are always flukey and they curve a bit so half a mile out your dead on but as you chase a close hauled course it becomes apparent the closer you get the less accurate you are. So you tack. And tack again. I didn't mind. Neither did the boat. Her design limitations mean I can't pinch near as heard as I could on my old Lido. But I don't have a jib to worry about and that about makes up for it.
 I finally entered the channel under the electric spanker, not wanting to keep chasing my angle of entry. As I motored by a fine house at the gateway of the cut, a group of gentleman fishing looked at me curiously. "Sailing vessel Kat Boat out of Big Arm and headed for Dayton Harbor" I bellowed giving my best Whence and Wither response. "Didn't think you'd have enough wind" one of them called as I passed. My pride was wounded and an unspoken and most likely unintended challenge was answered.  Without turning around to my audience, up came the sail and the motor was stopped. Oh we had wind all right. Straight down the channel it was. I began to beat. And beat. And beat some more. I was gaining fifteen feet a tack but damned if I wasn't sailing. I'll show them a tip top sailor! After half an hour I gave up my ego driven windward marathon. I needed to get back to the dock at Big Arm to meet The Lady for dinner. So with a muttered curse I abandoned the quest with a promise to try another day. After one almost grounding and broken motor mount I began the long run home.
 The Lady was not yet at the dock so I decided now was a good a time as ever to try my anchor. Over the winter I picked up a Mantis Dingy Anchor with ten feet of chain and a hundred feet of nylon rode. This was then fed forward to my bow eye to allow for remote anchoring and retrieval. In theory anyway. After discovering a few flaws in the system that necessitated  a Spiderman like journey to the bow of that boat, the anchor was set and we were at anything but peace just off the Big Arm dock. Kat Boat it seems likes to dance on her anchor and is not shy about doing so. Left, right, spinning she knows all the moves. But the anchor never dragged nor felt strained during these balletic maneuvers. Eventually The Lady arrived and I hauled up anchor and got the boat out of the water.
 As I made the short drive to the campsite with the boat finally on the trailer my soul was filled and my heart was at peace. Today I stood among my sailing heroes. Not Nelson or Nemo. But Andy Linn and Tom Pamperin of Texas 200 fame and beyond. Tom McGrath the Townie sailor and author, Roger Barnes, Dingy cruiser, James McMullan and the rest of the Sail and Oar™ bunch and just about every other crazy bastard who decided it was better to go in a small boat with half a mind then a big boat with none at all. What I had done was no great shakes. My distance covered minuscule. I didn't even make my destination. But in those fleeting moments the world was my oyster. I had the nerve to go somewhere and the boat to take me there. What I could have done far outweighed what I did. And that is why we do this. Mess about in boats that is. Looking forward to what this summer brings. I hope you do too.

Tip Top Solo Sailor

VLOG

Quick Vlog Update!

Big Gains Today

Final green stripe picture

 It was a busy day in the boat yard. We got the exterior fully painted and are prepping to move to the cockpit. Interior is around 90% complete and after a few other odds and ends we'll be ready to splash. Hope is a sea trial on the 12th of May.

Goodbye green, hello blue!

That looks right.

Ringing in a New Day

At least the bell is attached!

 It was a very productive day. The sun is so intermentant we take what we can. Today we did the following:

• Reattached the locker lids with the new nylon hinges.
• Wood puttied all the holes from the original cockpit hardware.
• Hung the ships bell
• Sorted and reorganized the the first aid kit. The new box is not as good as the old one for bulkhead mounting. 

In addition we have folding cup holders to mount, an idea of where the propulsion battery is going to go this season, and are ready for painting as soon as the weather cooperates. And with the truck out of the back we've shifted the vessel to allow mast raising in place In addition to all this I've decided I'm going to rewire the boat. The deadline is not so looming as it once once and we'll most certainly splash on time. Here's hoping the weather is good the next few days. 
 I keep meaning to film and take pictures but the truth is the projects I think will take days take minutes and it's far easier to simply get things done then figure out how to capture getting it done. I apolgize that the full DIY part of the blog is falling by the wayside but look for more visual content once we get on the water. Plans are afoot for some really cool work while we are actually sailing.

It's the Little Things

Titebond II and clamps are a boat builders best friend.

 The rain continues and so the little jobs do as well. Today I fabricated and glued up one of the "hinges" that helped keep the cockpit closed. Although I now use brass and soon to be nylon hinges now the missing part was eating at me. Got me new jig saw blades though.
 The Lady started work on the cockpit covering as well. We would like to be able to use the back portion in bright or rainy conditions while at anchor. She's a seamstress and is enjoying the project. Should be be together soon. 39 more days.

#09? Not quite!

That's better

 Today we painted the cabin. The color is based on Kirby #09 Cream that a friend mentions in one of his writings about his former CLC Skerry. I say based on because I love my boat but we're not paying $90 a gallon for paint. However we got the first coat on up high today and after letting it dry we will re-coat, then do  the floor. I think our cabin looks so much better and that blue really works with it. The white always felt a bit clinical, the cream is very inviting and homey.

In Praise of the Humble Deck Screw

A work in progress. Those decks are looking good! The weather is not ideal.

 As the weather refuses to cooperate I'm forced to do other projects that are not so sun dependent. And this leads me to talk a bit about my boat (Gasp!) and how I'm putting her to rights as a proper pocket yacht and overnight sailboat. I think it's fair to say that for me, I did not get a completed boat. She's sailable but her utility for what I want to do and what she is capable of is limited. And the project I tackled today illustrates this well.
It should be noted the seats themselves are not to plan. As originally envisioned the seats were simply slatted platforms 6 3/4" off the floor. Not the full "watertight", they are most decidedly not, lockers that allow you to sit with your thighs level and your feet flat on the floor. She's much more comfortable then stock I would say. The first time I stepped aboard what would become my boat in the parking lot of the Beaver, Utah Flying J was "Step on the sides of the seats, the centers are weak." This I dutifully did, have been doing, and admonish others to do as well. But why? The seats themselves are, if I don't miss my guess, some remnants of the 1/4" Okume that was used throughout the vessel where 1/4" plywood was called for. They are a bit bowed and checked but nothing in that department a bit of refinishing won't fix. But they are flexible. Not worryingly so but you know for sure when you've accidentally put your weight in the center of the seat. And these seats have been in the boat for her whole decade of existence.
 I'm 215lbs on a good day. And the image of me getting distracted by something and stepping through my seat as I board from the pier is not something that should bear thinking about. So I figured I should fix this. There is so much about small boat work that you won't find in a book. We are a generally independent lot. Backyard engineering at it's finest really. So with a couple of  1x2's, deck screws, two new clamps and assorted power tools I set about righting my seats.

This is the first one. There were many more holes in this one then the second.

  The engineering was notably simple. My first thought of doing two parallel strips up the middle wasn't going to work. The original "hinges" that held the seat top in wasn't going to allow for it. So i settled on a single strip inboard for longitudinal strength  and three stringers to take the load in the center. I started the process by carefully measuring and by the end of the project my Mk.I eyeball was doing most of the work. I was able to tell when things were centered, about how to make things look even and how to customize each for what was needed. The starboard side seat for instance has more bow in the center then the port seat and the pattern of attachment reflects this.
 Most of my wood work anymore is done with deck screws. You know the kind that must come with it's own unique driver bit to ensure you'll never have it when you need it. I can't wait to see someone attempt to take a boat I've worked on apart. There will be hardware store trips in their future for sure as they track down the bit for each section I worked on. But most are exterior screws, have an aggressive pitch to them and do a really good job of holding wood to wood. Combined with Titebond II my modifications are pretty permanent.
 The first seat took longer then the second. Primarily because I was engineering on the fly and was still sighting in my Harbor Freight screwgun. But once the preliminary engineering was done the second seat went much faster and I only have one extra hole in the seat top. 

Not bad. Not bad at all.

 Putting the seats back in really showed me how necessary this improvement was. The seat tops now feel solid and are much more even. They close well and as I was tarping the boat once more in fear of a late afternoon shower I stood dead center on the starboard locker. Nothing moved and I forgot all about where I needed to step. Got the job done and cleaned up. That is what seats should be. And now mine are.

Small Changes

Before painting. The mix of greens was almost im possible to match.

Flat In the Navy. We'll see if we go semi-gloss or not.

 Weather is taking a decidedly wet turn. But next week the final coats of varnish should go on and we'll start hull and interior paint. Ordering more bits today.

Do something!

Passing sailboat on Elliot Bay

 Every time I look at my schedule on my phone these days I am gripped with panic. I have deadlines to meet and time is refusing to stand still. So much of what I have to do depending on good weather, decent physical and mental strength and the time to allow paint to dry. The list of what is left to do is by my reckoning so incredibly long. I've been replaying and planning what I have to do in my head since November and during those long cold months was unable to move forward on any of it at all.
 There is a berth to install, interior accoutrements to purchase, the aforementioned painting and varnishing. Once that's done I need to replace the official stickers that had to come off for the repaint and while I'd like to think that's the easiest bit bureaucracy is seldom easy. The trailer needs goal posts, my towing vehicles need electrics looked at and I still have to purchase my Idaho state invasive species permit sticker.
 Don't get me started on the Palozoa stuff. And my anchoring system is still a napkin drawing. So there are moments when I have no idea where to go. When it's a cascade of things I could do but need to 'get that done before that' it quickly becomes overwhelming and disheartening. Because "I need to" becomes "But that first" becomes "Then what?" becomes inaction. Analysis paralysis because nothing can get done because everything must be done. And the person to get it done is you with others depending on that final glorious finish And throughout all of this the clock is not stopping.
 At these times, which are more frequent then ever this late spring, I am acutely aware of my inaction. Of being frozen on the outside while my internal monologue is everything but still. At these times the only reaction to inaction is action if anything is to be done. Once the wall has been hit, it's time to go through it.
 Today The Lady was at the "Do you want solutions or venting?" stage as I tried to explain where my head was at. I replied I didn't know, clicking a tool in my hand absentmindedly as the cascade of needs vs. the available time went to war in my head. The obvious answer was the system I was working on, the paint/varnish system was at a stalemate. "Well pick another system" came the answer. That broke the mental dam and work resumed. On the rudder and tiller, which was not in anyway affected by the current inability to continue the other work at hand.
 When all was said and done we got the rudder stock half repainted, the hardware out of the tiller and rudder, the tiller varnished and a clear goal of what was needed to finish the work. With the remainder now drying in the sun but rain on the way I'm further ahead then I would have been otherwise. And that is a win.
 Sometimes the hardest thing is the easiest. But with the ability to recognize where you've been and where you now stand, the ability to take take the next step and where may well show itself. "Do something!" is a rallying cry to get stuff done. Because even if you're overwhelmed with what needs doing, at least you know what needs doing. And you can get it done.