That Sinking Feeling

Generally speaking, it's best to keep the water you float in outside the boat. So when I went back to RI to sail Flyer down to Annapolis, I was a bit disconcerted to find a half inch of water in the bilge. I sponged out the bilge till there was absolutely nothing but fiberglass, wires, and shiny keel bolts. In the morning I was half way through my shower on shore (generally speaking, it's best to keep the water you shower in inside the shower stall) when I remembered the bilge. I almost called Yanik, who was making coffee as I left for my shower, to check the bilge, but I held out till my return.

Then I checked the bilge. The boat was not sinking, but my heart was. There was a half inch of water in the bilge. Despite the dread, I dipped a finger in the water and did the telling taste test. It was salty. I coerced Yanik into confirming my diagnosis.

After coffee and a breakfast bar I went up to the yard to consult with Steve Trehue (the yard owner). He assured me that there could be no leak along the keel seam because they ground down around the seam and sealed it with fiberglass and epoxy. He suggested that it may be residual and/or rain water, and that I should dry it out completely (again) and monitor it.

Meanwhile, we readied the boat for sea. Yanik checked electric systems and established navigation systems, fixed the fresh water pump, and did a billion other things (not the least of which was discovering that the burners on the stove worked and did not require new thermocouples). John Post came by just in time to help to send me to the top of the mast (again) to right the wind anemometer cup & vane direction sensor that for some reason had been attached upside-down. While up there, I fixed the anchor light just by cleaning the rust off the contacts. Not that we'd be anchoring at sea, mind you, but it seemed the right thing to do given I was already dangling in my harness.

What goes up must come down. Following my descent from the mast head, I stuck my head in the bilge and once again found water. Did the taste test again. Sure enough, it was salty. I made the difficult trip up to the yard to talk it over with Steve. He couldn't believe that there could be a leak but sent Phil (the repairman) to try to find the source. Before long he determined that water was coming in through the keel bolts. Not only that, but to test the nature of the leak, they'd have to haul the boat and drop the keel.  I consulted with Steve yet again, who thought he could have us on the hard, repaired, and ready to go on Tuesday.

Meanwhile Sweeney had stopped by for a visit. Still suffering from diverticulitis, he was not able to sail down to Annapolis with us. Worse (for him, I think), he was unable to help me drown my sorrows in drink after the two Johns and I conferred and decided to scrap the delivery. Yanik couldn't afford to waste time hanging around for repairs, the nature of which was still speculative. One more trip to the yard to confirm things with Steve, but by then the yard had closed for the weekend.

Tattoo You: The Maiden Voyage

Turns out that the wheel nut on an Edson steering wheel sits pubic-bone-high off the cockpit floor. Not five minutes into the maiden voyage, I struck a shale ledge that stopped us short and threw me forward. Now I have "EDSON" etched in my bone (see schematic below), on an ever-changing background of hues of black, green, and blue.

About that ledge...
There we--John (Jack the Knife) Post, John (Sweeney) Sweeney, Tina (Tina) Chase, and I (mud)  were on the maiden voyage. John maneuvered us out of the slip, then handed me the helm. Not having looked at a chart, I asked for navigational instructions, as in "can I go there?". Hearing an affirmative, I continued on my merry (actually, joyous) way, till, not a moment later, we stopped very suddenly. Big thud. Not like the thud you hear on the Chesapeake Bay when you ground out in mud, and not like a breaking-up sort of thud when you hit a rock (which I've never done, so I don't actually know what that thud sounds like), but more like a thud you might hear if you hit a stump (or a whale).
There was no sound of water charging in to take the cabin, and the engine was still alive, so we motored out to more open water where the wind rose from about 8 to 15 knots, and Flyer rose to the occasion. My smile was ungovernable; I had no control of it. Flyer sailed beautifully on all points of sail. I thought to myself, "what a good idea it is to own such an awesome boat"...till I discovered we were taking on water VERY slowly. I kept a log of the water depth in the bilge all night. I figured about a half inch every 4 hours or so.
In the morning I bit the bullet and had the boat hauled for inspection. Remember that ungovernable smile? Well you can kiss that good-buy. The bottom of the keel suffered only cosmetic damage, but water was draining from the keel seam at the forward end, and the hull showed signs of bowing at the aft end of the keel. Everyone at Stanley's Boat Yard was extremely sympathetic. They told me flat out that the Barrington Yacht Club was supposed to have planted their marker, which, by the way, says "LEDGE" on it, on the very spot I hit. Evidently the yacht club missed their April 1 due date.
Now I'm waiting for the hull to dry so that the guys in the yard can grind back the keel and hull and figure out what's what. Evidently the damage is not as bad as was first thought thanks to the quality of the build. Never-the-less, I've been nauseous ever since seeing Flyer back on the hard.
More to precede, and more to follow...

Here I Go Again (with any luck)

It's been a long while since I've had any adventures worth writing about, but with any luck that's about to change. I am heading off to sea on Halloween(October 31) for a sail to the Virgin Islands by way of Bermuda (though tropical depression Noelle thinks maybe not).
In any event you can catch all the news about the trip on the captain's web site at sailingallover.com. Stay tuned to this blog too. I'll provide details about this adventure later on.

"...If You Try Sometimes, You Just Might Find You Get What You Need" -- Rolling Stones

(continued from previous post) The hotel clerk arrived at 7 a.m. I was nearing the end of my minutes and wits as well. I explained the evening's drama, then had to do it all over again when the manager came in. So, out came the $4o, the unprocessed credit slip for the 2nd room, and a refund for my room that I didn't get to sleep in. Did I actually make money on that deal? Just then my phone died. I had half an hour to get to the airport. The manager said he'd keep a lookout for the taxi, then let me into my original room. I shoved everything into my duffels as best I could given the time I had, then hopped in the taxi that was already waiting for me. (I sat in front. You're meant to do that in Australia.)
The coach class queue at the Qantas desk was dismally long, so I went to the customer service desk to see about a seat in business class. Also, that line was much shorter. I started explaining the situation about having booked business with award miles when the agent looked at me like I was nuts, then asked me, "You do know that that flight has been canceled, don't you?"That would certainly explain why I'd been on hold for a half hour or more on my cell phone. As a result of the cancellation, all passengers on my flight were booked on the next flight, so there was barely a coach seat left for me, let alone one in business class. Oh, and by the way, my flight was canceled due to mechanical problems. A car hit the wing of the aircraft. I'm thinking both vehicles were on the ground at the time of impact.
Back in the coach queue I received a call from Russ. He started in telling me all about his misadventures with getting on the wrong ferry, having to back-track to the quay, and so forth. I'm afraid I won the "guess what happened last night after we left the restaurant" contest. Hands down, in fact. All that waiting in line for a boarding pass got me thinking. I figured that if I'd booked business class, they ought to allow me entry to the Qantas Lounge. So, back at the Customer Service desk, the same agent asked, "You again? What now"? Remember the bit about being at wits end? I served up my logic and won a pass to the lounge. Things were looking up. I had coffee and some sort of muffin before taking a long shower. When I emerged, I got online, replenished my phone card, downed two mimosas, and emerged from the lounge just in time to board. The best thing about being on board was not having to rush off anywhere for at least 13 hours.

Little Hotel of Horrors

After the Big Hit in Hamilton Island, I flew to Sydney and took the airport train to Central Station, where I caught another train to St. Peters Station, where I set off on foot to find the little hotel, Formule 1, that Alan had recommended that was "just a few blocks" from the train station. I kept walking and walking in what I felt should be the right direction (according to my little map). Sure enough, just as I was about to give up hope, there was the motel, sandwiched, as promised, between a McDonald's and KFC. A blind person could find this joint. Can't miss the smell of french fries and the colonel's oh-so-special secret recipe!
By the time I checked in, it was about 7 p.m. The hotel clerk gave me a key code for the key pad lock on the room, and told me to use the same code on the hotel door if I came back after 10 p.m. (after which time there would be no one on the desk). So off I went, back to the train station, to meet Russ (that's him above) for dinner in Kirribilli. We ate at an Indian restaurant and I must say that it was the best meal I'd had in 10 days. (After the bowl of frozen prawns I sent back to the kitchen on Hamilton Is., anything would have tasted great! But I digress.) A bottle of wine and a few stories later I was on the train again heading back to the hotel. I use the term hotel rather loosely. It was more like a dorm room hybridized with a port-a-pottie. (See the photo of the room and the bathroom below.) But it was all I really needed--just somewhere to shower and sleep for the last 2 nights in Sydney. I returned to my room to sleep off my goose egg.
In the morning I woke up slowly, showered, and had some muesli I'd brought along from Hamilton Is. Then I prepared for my last outing in Sydney. That included camera, sunglasses, book, maps, sweater, etc. etc. I'd be out all day and well into the evening. I did a lot: hopped on a ferry to the Maritime museum in Darling Harbor (see photo of Capt. Cook's Beagle replica below); walked to the Art Museum of NSW; walked back to the Quay via the botanical gardens (where I got a bit lost as the sun set...and the hordes of bats took to the air...and a park "ranger" told me the park closed at dark, but didn't offer to guide me to the gate!); walked to the Rocks and found a good ole pub where I had a pint and waited for Russ to join me for dinner on my last night in Sydney. We ate some sort of hybrid middle-eastern and Italian meal--a pizza with cous-cous and lamb? Anyway, the beer was good! And I was very happy to have company.
Russ had to rise early for a tennis match. I had to rise early to catch a plane. So I walked Russ to the Quay to catch a ferry back to Kirribilli, then I boarded a train back to the hotel. Except that I went the wrong way when I transferred, so had to back-track to Central Station and try again. It was sort of late and the trains weren't in any hurry to get me home. Then there was that walk from St. Peters station. By the time I arrived it was probably around 10:30. I was beat. I entered the code to get into the hotel "lobby." Hmm...that didn't seem to work. So I tried again. And again. Still no joy. Some other "guests" walked in, so I finally gained entry that way. Walked to my room, entered the key code, and hmm...that didn't seem to work either. So I tried again. And again. Still no joy. I was tired and was not enjoying this little challenge. I walked outside, wedged my knapsack in the door so I wouldn't me caught out again, and tried to retrieve my internet reservation from the ATM-like reservation kiosk. It kept refusing my information. I tried another credit card. No joy. In desperation I made an on-the-spot reservation for another room, thinking that at least I could sleep somewhere and then get things straightened out when the clerk returned to the desk at 7 a.m. So, the machine spat out a new room number and a new code, which actually worked to get me inside the hotel. With renewed confidence, I found the new room, entered the code (which worked!), opened the door, and found that the room was not made up. In fact it looked so recently-abandoned that I wasn't sure if the guests were coming back or not. The room spelled like smoke. There was an empty bottle of Moet on the counter and several other items of merriment strewn about. I've slept in some unsavory places before, but I wasn't about to sleep in that room...not even on the floor. Back to square 1. By now a few people had figured out that I was having a great deal of trouble. One of the "regulars" offered me his room for $4o AUD. He didn't need it and could stay with his friends in their room. $4o was all I had left in my wallet. I'd need some of it to get to the airport in the morning. Still, I really needed to sleep, so I took him up on his offer. He took me to the room and gave me the code. It was smoky, but the bed was made, so I felt like things were looking up! (No towels, or anything, and of course all my luggage was in a locked room--my room.) So then it was about midnight. There was but a flimsy latch on the inside of the door that served as a lock. That wouldn't offer much protection against someone breaking in, especially if that someone had the key code! So I slept fully dressed with all the lights on. I didn't have my Swiss Army knife, because I'd forgotten to remove it from my carry-on pack at the airport and had to hand it over to Mark in Canberra.
I set a cell phone alarm for 6 a.m. I wanted to call Qantas to see about getting a business class seat. After waiting on hold till almost 7 a.m., my phone ran out of minutes. (to be continued in the next post)

One Hit; One Myth

Finally got to circumnavigate something! So what if I had to pay for it, and it lasted only an hour. The boat was a 36' Catamaran called Adrenalin Rush. The breeze was slight, so hanging off in the trapeze was not that thrilling; my adrenalin strolled if anything. Needed bigger wind, so I called the skipper/owner, Keith Logan, the next morning for a weather forecast. He said that the winds were filling in, he'd take me from the harbour to Catseye Beach, and get me back in time to catch my flight to Sydney that afternoon, all for the low, low price of $AUD50.00 cash.
Keith picked me up from the Reef View hotel, where I'd stored my gear. We boarded the boat, along with the deckie (deck hand). Headed to windward and hoisted sail, then turned off the wind, toward the lee shore. Keith went forward to help the deckie with the centerboard; I was sitting amid ship on the trampoline. Seemed to me that we were awfully close to shore. Just as I had the impulse to run aft and grab the helm, the boat slammed into a coral head. The boat stopped dead, hurling the deckie overboard and into the net between the hulls. The momentum shot me forward where the rigid boom vang had a go at my head as the sail gybed. I was knocked down on my back. There was an awful lot of swearing coming from the skipper. A rather humongous goose egg was lain on my head. I marveled at how tough titanium must be to have held my neck together through the impact. Quite a hit!
The deckie checked for water intake, then was ordered into the dink (dingy) to push the boat off the reef and to turn it to head for a tack away from shore. Looked like the centerboard took a bit of a beating but the hull seemed sound. The deckie was ordered to survey the hull from the dink but could see nothing amiss. He took the dink around to Catseye Beach while Keith and I continued our little cruise as if nothing had ever happened.

So much for the hit. Here's the myth:
The myth: you can never go back. The reality: You can go back, but you may never figure out why you wanted to in the first place!

How to Make Enough Bread to Keep a Roof Over Your Head

There's nothing like travelling to make you aware of just how far a buck will get you. I stopped into a Technical Writing agency in Sydney to see about the chances of getting some work there. Unfortunately I'd need to be sponsored by a company in order to work in Australia, so the contractor thing is right out.

I was discussing the situation with the Georgelins when I stayed with them in Canberra. (Yes, I stayed with friends again, free-loader that I am.) Because my skills are not exactly in short supply, and because really I think an Australian could do my job, my chances of getting a company to sponsor me are nearly nil. I went on to say that although my work is somewhat mundane, and certainly not as creative as the special effects animation I was doing here before (and let's just throw in the fact that nobody ever reads the manuals I write), it does keep a roof over my head. Without missing a beat, the kids chimed in, "Yeah, someone else's roof!" Good on ya, mates.

To compensate in part for sharing their roofs, I made bread for the Rays and Georgelins. I think the recipe comes from the Silver Palate cookbook, published sometime last century. Here's how to make some bread (challah) to keep the roof over your head:

What you'll need:

2 c. milk

8 T. unsalted butter

1/2 c. sugar

2 pkgs. active dry yeast

4 eggs at room temp.

2 t. salt

6 c. unbleached all purpose flour

1/3 c. cornmeal (palenta will do)

1 T. cold water

poppy seeds

What to do:

1. Bring milk, 6 T. butter, and sugar to a boil. Remove from heat, pour into a large mixing bowl, and let cool till lukewarm (105-115F.)

2. Stir in yeast and let stand 10 min.

3. Beat 3 eggs in a small bowl, then stir them into the milk mixture

4. Stir in 5 c. flour, 1 c. at a time (add salt to flour). Flour a work surface and turn the dough onto it. Wash and dry the bowl

5. Sprinkle additional flour over the dough and begin kneading, adding more flour till dough is smooth and elastic.

6. Smear reserved butter around the inside of the bowl and add ball of dough, turning to coat it with butter. Cover with a towel and set aside to let dough rise until tripled in size (approx. 1 1/2 - 2 hours, though it may take longer in the cooler climes such as Bermagui, NSW)

7. Turn dough onto lightly floured surface and cut into halves. Cut each half into 3 pieces. Roll the pieces out into long snakes about 18" long. Braid 3 snakes and tuck ends under. Repeat for the other 3 snakes

8. Sprinkle a large baking sheet with cornmeal, and transfer the loaves to the sheet. Leave enough room between the loaves for them to rise. Cover with a towel and let rise till nearly double (approx 1 hr.)

9. Preheat oven to 350F.

10. Beat remaining egg and 1 T cold water in a small bowl. Brush evenly over loaves and sprinkle on poppy seeds

11. Set baking sheet in middle rack of oven. Bake for 30-35 min. or until loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped

12. Cool completely on rack

Makes 2 large loafs, but don't expect them to last long!