Do you smell smoke?

CB 14 June, 2007
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A couple weeks ago me and Tawn were gonna sail north to Port Ludlow, which is a small town in a well protected harbor about 25 miles north of us. We took off on a Sunday morning with a little wind directly out of the direction we needed to go, but no matter, we had plenty of time. I did want to get there before 6pm due to tide. Anytime after 6 and we would not have been able to get in the the inner harbor and anchor, the tide would have been to low to get in there.

We tacked back and forth for a few hours until we reached Apple Tree Cove, where the wind died completely. No bother, we just turned on the engine and started motoring there, with the intension to sail if the wind decided to pickup again.

Click here for a map if you care to follow along

About an hour later, just as we were approaching Point No Point, Tawn ducked down below to check on the battery charger gauge, (We had been having some trouble with the charger lately). When she got down there, she yelled back up that the gauge was reading 17+ volts!!! AcK! Not good. She quickly started shutting things down, so the batteries did not get ruined by overcharging them. As I was shutting down the engine, she yelled back up again that she smelled smoke and saw some coming from the engine compartment. Second only to a hole in your boat, a fire is the worst thing.

After getting everything shut down and the boat pointed and drifting in a safe direction. We started checking systems. The smoke turned out to not be a “real” fire, but an electrical wire that burnt up. Which is what that particular wire is designed to do in certain situations to prevent the altenator from burning up. But why did this happen?

We were a little over halfway to where we were going and did not exactly know what the issue was, so we decided to turn around and head home. We did not know the problem, so we could only sail home without the engine. Luckily for us, the wind pickedup and we had an awesome spinnacker run home. Along the way we called some other boating friends and they helped me diagnos the issue. And come up with a work around so we could use the engine to get back into the dock.

The next day, we figured out that our regulator had died on us, which resulted in the altenator overcharging the batteries. The ‘fire’ was a result of the batteries being shut off before the engine was. But that was why that wire burnt up, it is there to handle accidents like that. So there was no damage done and all is fixed and working now. Granted, fixed and working means $500 less in the bank account for a new regulator and other misc. parts, but that is just the way it is.

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Shitters fixed. Lets go sailing! (CB)

CB 2 May, 2007
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I’ll spare you the details of our head (toilet) repair. Just know that it is now fixed and working as it should, things go in….and stay in! Yeeaaahh!

So to celebrate we decided to get away from the dock and go for a sail. Not a big trip, just a quick trip north to Kingston. We had’nt been up there in close to a year, and it is only about 10 miles away. But since we are in the Puget Sound that ended up taking us 3+ hours. We did’nt want to turn on the engine at all, but the wind absolutly died and we had no other choice.

We were going to anchor out, but the word it that the holding in Apple Tree Cove is not so good and it very exposed. Plus the fact that we did not tow the dinghy with us, helped us make the decision that we would just go into the marina and grab a slip.

Took a quick walk into town and grabbed a burger and a beer or two at a bar called “The Filling Station”. The food was actually really good. We had never gone into this place before, for what ever reason.

We got up late the next morning hoping we would get a downwind run with the Spinnacker home, but the wind had shifted over night and was now blowing out of the southeast….Shilshole marina is exactly southeast of Kingston……Grrrr. Oh well, still had a good sail home, only had to tack 4 times. The winds were really light though.

Map there and back.

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Anchor Retrieval Expedition ’07 (A.R.E) (CB)

CB 19 April, 2007
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Ok, this story took place a couple weeks ago, the last weekend of March.

It all actually got it’s start late last summer. August 2nd to be exact. To summarize, last August during our vacation in the San Juan Islands, we sailed into Blind bay on Shaw island to see our friends Scott and Angie on thier boat “Ghost”. Scotty had somehow gotten his anchor absolutly stuck on the bottom. Despite our best efforts, we could not break the anchor free. The only option we were left with was to cut his anchor chain and mark the spot with a buoy, with the wishful promise of returning one day to retrieve the anchor.

Over the winter we would get togather have a few beers/rums and retell the lost anchor story to each other or any innocent bystander that happened to be standing too close. At some point between the end of September and the beginning of March a plan was hatched to retrieve the anchor. That plan, along with more than a few others for retrieval trips were suggested and forgotten about. Some time in March a solid plan had come togather. Emails were sent, phone calls made, and work schedules updated. We decided to do it.

Initially there were to be 12 expedition team members, but as with such things, the final epiditionary force numbered a solid 4. We forged on none the less.

When “A Day” finally arrived, me and Scotty left Seattle early (10:30am) to get up to Shaw island and setup base camp. Dave and Rich would follow later in the afternoon with the dive gear and dinghy, which was all packed into and on top of Rich’s truck.

We got camp setup in no time and the first beers of many were opened. We made a few important logisitical decisions, such as which tree would be the designated “Pee tree”. This is an important step in setting up a base camp on any major expedition, trust me. We got the firewood gathered and a fire built, as well as scouted out the beach below the campsite. Not one beer was spilt at all during this crucial initial phase. Not even the one I was carrying as we climbed down the cliff from the campsite to the beach below.

Dave and Rich arrived to a well found camp and we settled in for a long night of bullshitting, beer drinking and music. Dave and Scott on Guitar, Rich on the Ukelallee and me on Harmonica. Oddly enough we did not see any wildlife at all the entire weekend. Not sure if it was due to our “music” or that Shaw island just does not have a raccoon problem.

After pounds of bacon and eggs cooked over the fire we headed to the dive site. While Dave and I got our dive gear sorted out and put on. Rich and Scotty took the dinghy out to the spot where Scotty thought the Anchor should be. They returned just as we were suited up and reported that they found the bouy we left last summer and that it was still attached to his anchor chain. Scotty even brought his underwater video camara and was able to spot the chain on the bottom and that is was drapped over some sort of cage.

Suggested dinghy load limit be damned, we all loaded into the dinghy along with all the dive gear and puttered out to the site of the anchor. We had so much wieght in the dinghy, that water was pouring in over the sides and well as through the centerboard hole in the bottom like a fountain. After me and dave slipped over the side in to the water, Rich started bailing like mad.

We followed the buoy line down and spotted not a cage but an entire sunken 50 foot fishing boat. We did not expect that. The Anchor was jammed underneath the keel of the boat and the anchor chain was wrapped up and around the front of the boat. We were able to unwrap the chain easy enough. But getting the anchor it’s self unstuck from the bottom of the boat was a real pain in the ass. Pushing and pulling on it kicked up a huge mess of silt and mud with made it impossible to see what we were doing. We worked at it for awhile then surface to formulate a new plan and go back down and try again. I was able to attach a line to the anchor with a D-ring and we used the dinghy and engine to try and pull the anchore free but that did not work. After that we needed a break and a new tank of air. So Scotty towed us back to shore.

Once on shore, Rich headed back to camp in the truck to get the fire stoked up so we could warm up when we were done. Me, Scotty and Dave headed back out for a second dive. We were actually going to just go out and retreive the line and reattach it to the buoy and write it off as a failure. But once out there we decide to get the anchor not matter what.

This time instead of pulling from just one side of the boat. I went on the Starboard side and pushed as Dave went to the port side and pulled. The anchor popped right out after a few minutes of effort. SUCCESS!!! We surfaced and Scotty pulled the Anchor up and into the Dinghy. High Fives all around. A quick dive down to try the float to the boat as a warning to others and we headed back to shore and camp.

We talked to a local that lived across the road from the beach and he told us that boat sank about 5 years ago and has been there ever since. It is not marked on any charts, so I informed the coastguard and NOAA of it and hopefully it will be marked on future charts.

We headed back to camp to warm up and celebrate our success, with more music, beer and chili!

What a great weekend!! And as always, I have pictures, but have not uploaded them yet.

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Swab the poopdeck ya Scurvy dog! (CB)

CB 11 February, 2007
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After the last story about the raccoons on Blake Island, which by the way took place about two years ago, I thought we should venture back over to the island see if the situation had improved any since we had been there last. Unfortunately for you the reader, it had, and the Ranger is alive and well. There were no raccoon related incidents this week. Actually, we had this weekend trip planned long before I posted that story, but what a lovely segue.

The plan was to sail over Friday night after work and meet up with our friends on their boat Ghost. There were a few other boats from the marina planning on going over as well, so it was shaping up to be a pretty fun weekend.

My buddy Dan and a friend of his Erin were going to crew over and stay with us for the weekend on our boat and we were giving another friend of ours, Rich, a ride over as well. He was gonna stay aboard Ghost and crew back with them on Sunday. We had a great time on the island, drank alot, ate way too much and did some hiking/Geocaching and I went clamming for the first time. Oh and our alternator died on us as well, which made for a slightly colder, damper weekend than it should have been, but it’s nothing a couple boat units and busted knuckle or two can’t fix/replace.

Hang on….hang on, Ya know what, that last paragraph made me change my mind as to what this post is gonna be about. Actually not the whole paragraph, but one word used twice in a certain context changed my mind. The word I’m talking about is the word “crew”. Go back up and reread the first two sentences of the previous paragraph…seriously….go ahead, I’ll wait…….

…….

Done? Good.

Now did you notice that I said that our friends Dan, Erin and Rich were going to crew over with us and Rich was going to crew back on Ghost? Crew! Our friends were going to crew over with us. Not join us, not ride over, not hangout on our boat, but crew. They had gone from a chill little weekend to being unpaid crew on a boat. What the…?

In real life I’m a 39 year old Network Engineer that goes to work in an office in the year 2007. But the second I step aboard my boat or tell a story that involves mine or a friends boat, I immediately become a salty one eyed sea captain from the year 1807.

Back when we had a house it was: “Hey come on in, make yourself at home! Beers in the fridge.” Now it’s: “Welcome aboard, go below and stow your gear in the aft cabin. Rums in the locker…..Beer? It’s still in the fridge” (which is in the galley instead of the Kitchen). I said I became a salty sea captain, not lice eating Neanderthal.

Tell someone to tie a loose rope off!? HA!, That would never happen, not on my boat. It’s “Could you sheet in the Jib a bit” or “heave on that halyard”. Step off the boat and I’ll be the first to ask you to hand me that pile of rope, unless one end is attached to the boat, then it’s a line. Weather its the bow line, stern line or midship spring line all depends on which one I need and believe me, when I ask for it, i’ll let you know exactly which one and which cleat to make it fast to.

If were riding around in my jeep, I’ll turn a corner and not utter a word. I could careless if your ready for it or not or if you spill your Big Gulp all over your lap, but when I decide to change direction on the boat and the sails are up. You will know well ahead of time. First I’ll pose the question, “should we tack”? Or “I think I’ll tack”, which means some crew member (Friend) will grab the leeward working sheet (rope tied to a sail) and wait for more orders from the Captain (me…yeah right). Then comes “Ready about!?”, which means “are you ready for me to turn the damn boat”. This is followed by the command, “Helms a lee” or “I’m turning the damn boat”. Then “Break” which means, they let go of the leeward sheet (rope) and they or another crew member grabs the formerly loose windward sheet (rope) and hauls (pulls) it in tight as it becomes the new leeward working sheet (rope). On our boat we also say at the last minute, “Grab the burrito!”. I’m not sure of the prevelence of burritos in the 1800s on sailing vessels, but this one is our stupid inside joke.
At this point I’m content, but the other captain on the boat (Tawn) will then call for the sails to be sheeted in and trimmed so all tell-tales are flying (this make boat go faster). She’s grew up racing boats. If you translated this to 1800s captain styles. She’d be the rich and successful merchant captain with a fast sleek ship that got all the cargo from point A to point B in the fastest time possible. I would be the rum soaked pirate capt’n that bounces from port to port looking for nothing to do. This is what makes our boat work as well as it does.

Left is port. Right is starboard. A window is a porthole but it’s pronounce portal. The steering wheel is the helm but it could be a tiller. We piss in the head. Try that on land and your probably gonna get your ass kicked, depending on whose head it is. A knot is a unit of measure, not a tangle of rope. On a boat, each tangle of rope (knotted line) gets it’s own individual name and each one has a purpose. Land is “the hard”, and we go gunkholing on weekends, tying not to gunk to many hulls.

On land I could careless about little details such as these, but somehow on a boat it all makes sense and I get into it. And as far as I can tell, power-boaters are not as afflicted by this as much as sailors are.

There is not a reason for or an answer to this post, but come down the dock sometime and we’ll splice the main brace (have a drink) and I’ll tell you all about the sailing lexicon, or at least as much as I know or can make up.

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