Sunday, September 30, 2012
The new boat has a new name!
Should be back in the water sometime next week! I arranged for a new slip in the Ashley Marina, where Tranquility was berthed for four years. I'm very excited about getting in some sailing time here in Charleston harbor and getting familiar with her!
Back in the saddle already???
For years, I've wanted to work on the water. I wanted to find some way to earn money by driving boats. I started taking steps to make this a possibility about three years ago by getting a USCG Captain's License. This would enable me to drive boats for pay, and opened up a lot of opportunities for me. Early this past summer, I decided I would try to finally make it happen.
My plan is to build a micro-business that offers captained daysail charters here in Charleston harbor. To do this, I needed a boat that was pretty much the exact opposite of Tranquility. I needed a boat that was maneuverable, fast, and easy to sail by myself. I looked at a ton of different boats, but kept coming back to Alerions. I've really had a soft spot for these boats since I first saw an advertisement for them in Sail magazine back when I was in college. They're just gorgeous. I don't know what else to say about it. Drop-dead, classic good looks of a daysailer from an era gone by, but with a modern rig and underbody to facilitate speed and ease of handling. I shopped them online for a bit, and finally found one just south of Baltimore that fit the bill. About two weeks before we left on the sailing trip that ended with Tranquility getting dismasted, I bought "Moonshadow II," a 1999 Alerion Express 28.
In the middle of August, my buddy John Guthrie (whom you met in my Baja HaHa adventure last year) and I drove up to Flag Harbor, MD to get the new boat. Of course it goes without saying that Chili (being the old salty dog that he is) would be crewing for me on this trip, too. We would take about two weeks to sail her down the Chesapeake to Norfolk, and then bring her down to Charleston via the ICW. This would be a very rustic form of micro-cruising, seeing as how "Moonshadow II" is a gentleman's daysailer, and has virtually zero amenities/cruising gear. We would basically be camping out for two weeks, but we would have a great adventure.
We left Flag Harbor on Friday, August 17. The day started out great, and we were soon sailing at up to 8.4kts into a 15kt wind. As the day progressed, we got closer and closer to Point Lookout, MD, at the mouth of the Potomac River. The mouth of the Potomac can get really nasty when the winds oppose the current. The seas get steep and close together, and we sound found ourselves pounding into four-foot seas that were way too close together. The new boat did really well, but she's small and light, and we were taking seas over the bow and house from time to time that were pretty much drenching us back there in the cockpit. At some point, the display for the depth gauge got sea water inside it and stopped working. Shortly afterwards, I discovered that my VHF was also refusing to work. No worries, we watched the charts and markers closely, and by the end of the day, we were docked at Point Lookout Marina, a couple of miles up the Potomac. We laid up here for two days, trying to solve our electrical issues with partial success. We got the depth display working again, but would make the next leg without a functioning VHF.
Sunday the 19th we left early in the morning, heading for Deltaville. We would have some decent sailing on this leg, but towards the end of the day the seas again got rough, and we were happy to get into a slip at Fishing Bay Harbor Marina. Due to a small-craft advisory the next day, we laid up for a second night, and bought a new VHF in the meantime.
Wednesday the22nd we left Deltaville early, this time bound for Norfolk. As we left the bay, we were escorted out into the Chesapeake by a pod of 20 or more dolphins. Things like that are a rare treat, and everyone on board (including Chili) really enjoyed watching them play. There wasn't much wind that day, so we motorsailed all day down to Norfolk, arriving late in the afternoon. By six that evening, we were docked at Ocean Marine Yacht Center in Portsmouth, VA. We were at mile Zero in the ICW. It had taken us three sailing legs to get the 130 or so miles down the Chesapeake Bay. We were going into the winds and seas for virtually the entire trip, yet we still averaged 5.9kts over ground for the three legs.
The rest of the trip, being in the ICW, offered very predictable days. Up before dawn, motoring (and motorsailing when possible) southbound for 10+ hours, then docking in the evenings in various marinas along the way. Some days it was blazing hot with little cloud cover, often with hundreds of boats on the water. Other days it was rainy and windy with no other boaters for dozens of miles. Moonshadow II and her fearless (if not eager) crew held up very well, and we all had a pretty good time along the way. We stayed in some great marinas on the way down, with the best being in Coinjock, NC and Myrtle Beach, SC. Great restaurants at each of those places, and the one at Myrtle Beach had a pool with an enjoyable view of the ICW, several nice marinas and a drawbridge.
On Thursday the 30th we arrived at the Isle of Palms Marina, just north of Charleston. We laid up short that evening, enjoying dinner and drinks at the Morgan Creek Bar and Grill. The food was good (I had country fried chicken with gravy!), and the atmosphere was even better. Got to usher in the long-awaited start of the college football season by watching South Carolina beat Vanderbilt in a close one.
Next day saw us motor through Charleston Harbor and down to Ross Marine on the Stono River. There she was hauled out to have a few jobs done to get her ready for her new life as a working boat. The trip had lasted 17 days, 13 of which were spent with the boat moving from one destination to another. The chartplotter's log shows that we covered almost exactlty 650 miles, and had a moving average of 5.8kts for the entire trip. That's a surprisingly good speed for a 28' boat with a 22' waterline and a 10-horsepower diesel! I was really pleased with everything about the new boat, and I can't wait to get her back in the water and put her to work!
So that's it. From here I'll be trying to get the business going. I still have to do some marketing (brochures, website, cards), and networking (with concierges, tour companies, marinas, etc.), but I'm really looking forward to the challenge. I couldn't be more excited to be doing what I'm doing.
My plan is to build a micro-business that offers captained daysail charters here in Charleston harbor. To do this, I needed a boat that was pretty much the exact opposite of Tranquility. I needed a boat that was maneuverable, fast, and easy to sail by myself. I looked at a ton of different boats, but kept coming back to Alerions. I've really had a soft spot for these boats since I first saw an advertisement for them in Sail magazine back when I was in college. They're just gorgeous. I don't know what else to say about it. Drop-dead, classic good looks of a daysailer from an era gone by, but with a modern rig and underbody to facilitate speed and ease of handling. I shopped them online for a bit, and finally found one just south of Baltimore that fit the bill. About two weeks before we left on the sailing trip that ended with Tranquility getting dismasted, I bought "Moonshadow II," a 1999 Alerion Express 28.
In the middle of August, my buddy John Guthrie (whom you met in my Baja HaHa adventure last year) and I drove up to Flag Harbor, MD to get the new boat. Of course it goes without saying that Chili (being the old salty dog that he is) would be crewing for me on this trip, too. We would take about two weeks to sail her down the Chesapeake to Norfolk, and then bring her down to Charleston via the ICW. This would be a very rustic form of micro-cruising, seeing as how "Moonshadow II" is a gentleman's daysailer, and has virtually zero amenities/cruising gear. We would basically be camping out for two weeks, but we would have a great adventure.
Sunday the 19th we left early in the morning, heading for Deltaville. We would have some decent sailing on this leg, but towards the end of the day the seas again got rough, and we were happy to get into a slip at Fishing Bay Harbor Marina. Due to a small-craft advisory the next day, we laid up for a second night, and bought a new VHF in the meantime.
Wednesday the22nd we left Deltaville early, this time bound for Norfolk. As we left the bay, we were escorted out into the Chesapeake by a pod of 20 or more dolphins. Things like that are a rare treat, and everyone on board (including Chili) really enjoyed watching them play. There wasn't much wind that day, so we motorsailed all day down to Norfolk, arriving late in the afternoon. By six that evening, we were docked at Ocean Marine Yacht Center in Portsmouth, VA. We were at mile Zero in the ICW. It had taken us three sailing legs to get the 130 or so miles down the Chesapeake Bay. We were going into the winds and seas for virtually the entire trip, yet we still averaged 5.9kts over ground for the three legs.
The rest of the trip, being in the ICW, offered very predictable days. Up before dawn, motoring (and motorsailing when possible) southbound for 10+ hours, then docking in the evenings in various marinas along the way. Some days it was blazing hot with little cloud cover, often with hundreds of boats on the water. Other days it was rainy and windy with no other boaters for dozens of miles. Moonshadow II and her fearless (if not eager) crew held up very well, and we all had a pretty good time along the way. We stayed in some great marinas on the way down, with the best being in Coinjock, NC and Myrtle Beach, SC. Great restaurants at each of those places, and the one at Myrtle Beach had a pool with an enjoyable view of the ICW, several nice marinas and a drawbridge.
On Thursday the 30th we arrived at the Isle of Palms Marina, just north of Charleston. We laid up short that evening, enjoying dinner and drinks at the Morgan Creek Bar and Grill. The food was good (I had country fried chicken with gravy!), and the atmosphere was even better. Got to usher in the long-awaited start of the college football season by watching South Carolina beat Vanderbilt in a close one.
Next day saw us motor through Charleston Harbor and down to Ross Marine on the Stono River. There she was hauled out to have a few jobs done to get her ready for her new life as a working boat. The trip had lasted 17 days, 13 of which were spent with the boat moving from one destination to another. The chartplotter's log shows that we covered almost exactlty 650 miles, and had a moving average of 5.8kts for the entire trip. That's a surprisingly good speed for a 28' boat with a 22' waterline and a 10-horsepower diesel! I was really pleased with everything about the new boat, and I can't wait to get her back in the water and put her to work!
So that's it. From here I'll be trying to get the business going. I still have to do some marketing (brochures, website, cards), and networking (with concierges, tour companies, marinas, etc.), but I'm really looking forward to the challenge. I couldn't be more excited to be doing what I'm doing.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
"The best laid plans of mice and men..."
"often go awry."
It started so well. I would take two and a half weeks and sail down to St. Augustine and back with my girlfriend Gabrielle, her two boys Malo and liam, and of course, Chili. We would do some offshore sailing and some ICW motoring. I wanted to try to get down to St. Augustine quickly and then take some time coming back up to Charleston, with stops at Fernandina Beach, Cumberland Island and River Street in Savannah. Like the title of this post says, though....
The first day was great. We sailed out of Charleston Harbor in the late afternoon on Friday, June 21. We were beating into a 10-12kt wind, slowly tacking our way Southward. We had a nice dinner at sea, and the kids watched a movie in their cabin before drifting off to sleep. Early in the morning the wind died, so we motorsailed. By daybreak we were off of Tybee Roads, Savannah. The water output from the diesel was less than it should have been and I needed rest, so we ducked into the Savannah River and anchored. Although I didn't know it at the time, the engine's waterpump was failing. It was the first of many problems that would arise on this trip.
The next couple of days saw us motoring down the ICW towards St. Augustine. We soon found ourselves completely socked in with nasty weather. It wasn't a typical June rainstorm. No, this was tropical storm Debbie. Great! Well, it wasn't as bad as you might think. We saw winds of up to about 30kts and a lot of rain, but other than that we were just fine. By the time we got down to St. Simons, the waterpump was on its last legs. It had developed a leak at the shaft seal, and would slowly fill the engine bilge with sea water when the seacock for the water intake was open and the engine was running. It was during this time that I discovered my automatic bilge pump wasn't working. The water from the leaky pump would fill the engine bilge and run over into Tranquility's main bilge. The float switch for the automatic bilge pump would cause the pump to turn itself on, but there was a tear in the pump's diaphragm and it wouldn't pump water. Clearly these two issues had to be addressed, so we stopped at Golden Isles Marina to get some work done. While docked there, the weather finally cleared. With a new waterpump and bilge pump, we were ready to continue our trip.
Thursday, June 28 saw us heading offshore from St. Simons. Winds were forecast to be 10-15kts from the SSE, with seas at 2-3 feet. Although the wind direction wasn't great, the windspeed and sea-state was good, so offshore we went. Again we had a great dinner at sea before everyone drifted off to sleep, with me manning the helm. As the night wore on, the winds shifted further south and intensified in speed. The waves also got steeper and closer together. I was seeing winds of 17-20kts, with gusts up to 22-24kts on occasion. I was really close-hauled and clawing to windward. Tranquility would sail along at about five knots, but every third wave or so would rob her of momentum and knock our speed down to two knots. Although she would slowly regain it, we clearly weren't making good enough time, so I fired up the diesel and we began motorsailing at low RPM. This resolved the problem of losing momentum, and Tranquility kept her speed up around five knots again as we clawed our way on down towards St. Augustine.
At 0145 Friday morning, we were 12.2 miles East of Fernandina beach. I tacked Tranquility over onto a starboard tack to head back offshore. We would ride this tack out about 20 miles before making the final tack that would take us into St. Augustine inlet. Windspeed was 20kts, and the seas were three to six feet. I sheeted in and trimmed the headsail, and sat back down at the helm to check the instruments. I suddenly heard a tremendously loud bang and felt the boat shudder violently. I could not believe what I saw. Tranquility's mast had sheared off about three feet above the coachroof and fallen over the port side! Although I was completely stunned and shocked, I instantly turned off the engine to prevent the prop shaft from getting fouled by the rigging which lay all over the house and decks and spilled over into the water. How could this have happened? What would have caused the rig of this strong cruising boat to collapse in 20kts of wind? It turned out to be crevice corrosion on the forward-most starboard side chainplate. It simply broke in half and ripped itself out of the deck, leading to catastrophic rig failure.
So there we were, dismasted and lying beam-to the seas, slowly drifting Northward at two in the morning, 12 miles offshore. I called Sea Tow (with whom I've had a membership for four years), who informed me that since I was dismasted they would consider any assistance they gave me to be a salvage operation, and that my policy didn't cover salvages. WTF?? They couldn't even give me a price for the operation "until our boat gets there in a couple of hours." Thanks for nothing, Sea Tow. With this in mind, I clipped into the jacklines and went on deck with a knife and bolt-cutters and cut my rig away. I lost everything; sails, mast, boom, furlers... everything went to the bottom of the Atlantic. With Tranquility free of that spider web of destroyed rigging, I again fired up the diesel and motored into Fernandina, docking by myself at six in the morning. I immediately collapsed and went to sleep.
It's really beyond my ability to describe to you how I felt then, and how I still feel now about losing the rig. Suffice it to say that it was traumatic and heart-breaking. I will leave it at that. I thank my lucky stars that nobody on board got so much as a scratch.
With the rig gone, all of our plans were changed. The priority became getting the boat home with everyone safe. The next day we began our slow trip home, motoring up the ICW. Two days later, we were anchored behind Blackbeard Island, in Sapelo Sound. A massive thunderstorm blew down on us from the North, with winds at 50kts+, and tremendous amounts of rain and lightening. This was much more disturbing than being dismasted, as the storm raged for four hours. At one point, the violent winds cruelly ripped my solar panels from the top of the bimini and flung them over the side, still attached by their power cable. Because of the wicked rolling of the boat and the weight of the panels, I was unable to save them and had to cut them away, too. As that storm raged on, we were powerless to do anything except pray that Tranquility's anchor would hold. Well, not only did it hold, it didn't budge an inch. I will include a picture of the breadcrumbs that the chartplotter laid during the storm. Tranquility was battered and beaten, but like she has always done in the four years and thousands of miles that I've sailed her, she took care of her passengers. Bless her heart, she is a fantastic cruising boat.
Next day, we slowly continued up the ICW. We eventually made it back to Charleston on July 4th. Two days later, we hauled Tranquility out at Ross Marine to have her rebuilt. Although six weeks have gone by since the dismasting, it still breaks my heart to think about it. The tears I cried for her could fill up a bucket. Despite the hard luck on the trip, we did have moments of fun. There will be memories from this trip, both good and bad for everyone onboard, that will last for a lifetime.
It started so well. I would take two and a half weeks and sail down to St. Augustine and back with my girlfriend Gabrielle, her two boys Malo and liam, and of course, Chili. We would do some offshore sailing and some ICW motoring. I wanted to try to get down to St. Augustine quickly and then take some time coming back up to Charleston, with stops at Fernandina Beach, Cumberland Island and River Street in Savannah. Like the title of this post says, though....
The first day was great. We sailed out of Charleston Harbor in the late afternoon on Friday, June 21. We were beating into a 10-12kt wind, slowly tacking our way Southward. We had a nice dinner at sea, and the kids watched a movie in their cabin before drifting off to sleep. Early in the morning the wind died, so we motorsailed. By daybreak we were off of Tybee Roads, Savannah. The water output from the diesel was less than it should have been and I needed rest, so we ducked into the Savannah River and anchored. Although I didn't know it at the time, the engine's waterpump was failing. It was the first of many problems that would arise on this trip.
The next couple of days saw us motoring down the ICW towards St. Augustine. We soon found ourselves completely socked in with nasty weather. It wasn't a typical June rainstorm. No, this was tropical storm Debbie. Great! Well, it wasn't as bad as you might think. We saw winds of up to about 30kts and a lot of rain, but other than that we were just fine. By the time we got down to St. Simons, the waterpump was on its last legs. It had developed a leak at the shaft seal, and would slowly fill the engine bilge with sea water when the seacock for the water intake was open and the engine was running. It was during this time that I discovered my automatic bilge pump wasn't working. The water from the leaky pump would fill the engine bilge and run over into Tranquility's main bilge. The float switch for the automatic bilge pump would cause the pump to turn itself on, but there was a tear in the pump's diaphragm and it wouldn't pump water. Clearly these two issues had to be addressed, so we stopped at Golden Isles Marina to get some work done. While docked there, the weather finally cleared. With a new waterpump and bilge pump, we were ready to continue our trip.
Thursday, June 28 saw us heading offshore from St. Simons. Winds were forecast to be 10-15kts from the SSE, with seas at 2-3 feet. Although the wind direction wasn't great, the windspeed and sea-state was good, so offshore we went. Again we had a great dinner at sea before everyone drifted off to sleep, with me manning the helm. As the night wore on, the winds shifted further south and intensified in speed. The waves also got steeper and closer together. I was seeing winds of 17-20kts, with gusts up to 22-24kts on occasion. I was really close-hauled and clawing to windward. Tranquility would sail along at about five knots, but every third wave or so would rob her of momentum and knock our speed down to two knots. Although she would slowly regain it, we clearly weren't making good enough time, so I fired up the diesel and we began motorsailing at low RPM. This resolved the problem of losing momentum, and Tranquility kept her speed up around five knots again as we clawed our way on down towards St. Augustine.
At 0145 Friday morning, we were 12.2 miles East of Fernandina beach. I tacked Tranquility over onto a starboard tack to head back offshore. We would ride this tack out about 20 miles before making the final tack that would take us into St. Augustine inlet. Windspeed was 20kts, and the seas were three to six feet. I sheeted in and trimmed the headsail, and sat back down at the helm to check the instruments. I suddenly heard a tremendously loud bang and felt the boat shudder violently. I could not believe what I saw. Tranquility's mast had sheared off about three feet above the coachroof and fallen over the port side! Although I was completely stunned and shocked, I instantly turned off the engine to prevent the prop shaft from getting fouled by the rigging which lay all over the house and decks and spilled over into the water. How could this have happened? What would have caused the rig of this strong cruising boat to collapse in 20kts of wind? It turned out to be crevice corrosion on the forward-most starboard side chainplate. It simply broke in half and ripped itself out of the deck, leading to catastrophic rig failure.
So there we were, dismasted and lying beam-to the seas, slowly drifting Northward at two in the morning, 12 miles offshore. I called Sea Tow (with whom I've had a membership for four years), who informed me that since I was dismasted they would consider any assistance they gave me to be a salvage operation, and that my policy didn't cover salvages. WTF?? They couldn't even give me a price for the operation "until our boat gets there in a couple of hours." Thanks for nothing, Sea Tow. With this in mind, I clipped into the jacklines and went on deck with a knife and bolt-cutters and cut my rig away. I lost everything; sails, mast, boom, furlers... everything went to the bottom of the Atlantic. With Tranquility free of that spider web of destroyed rigging, I again fired up the diesel and motored into Fernandina, docking by myself at six in the morning. I immediately collapsed and went to sleep.
It's really beyond my ability to describe to you how I felt then, and how I still feel now about losing the rig. Suffice it to say that it was traumatic and heart-breaking. I will leave it at that. I thank my lucky stars that nobody on board got so much as a scratch.
With the rig gone, all of our plans were changed. The priority became getting the boat home with everyone safe. The next day we began our slow trip home, motoring up the ICW. Two days later, we were anchored behind Blackbeard Island, in Sapelo Sound. A massive thunderstorm blew down on us from the North, with winds at 50kts+, and tremendous amounts of rain and lightening. This was much more disturbing than being dismasted, as the storm raged for four hours. At one point, the violent winds cruelly ripped my solar panels from the top of the bimini and flung them over the side, still attached by their power cable. Because of the wicked rolling of the boat and the weight of the panels, I was unable to save them and had to cut them away, too. As that storm raged on, we were powerless to do anything except pray that Tranquility's anchor would hold. Well, not only did it hold, it didn't budge an inch. I will include a picture of the breadcrumbs that the chartplotter laid during the storm. Tranquility was battered and beaten, but like she has always done in the four years and thousands of miles that I've sailed her, she took care of her passengers. Bless her heart, she is a fantastic cruising boat.
Next day, we slowly continued up the ICW. We eventually made it back to Charleston on July 4th. Two days later, we hauled Tranquility out at Ross Marine to have her rebuilt. Although six weeks have gone by since the dismasting, it still breaks my heart to think about it. The tears I cried for her could fill up a bucket. Despite the hard luck on the trip, we did have moments of fun. There will be memories from this trip, both good and bad for everyone onboard, that will last for a lifetime.
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