Aboard No Boundaries
July 14, 2009
When I used to tell people that we planned to cruise full-time in retirement, they often asked, “But what do you do with your time? How do you occupy yourself when all you do is sail?” Some said, “Oh, that sounds so peaceful, just sailing along all day.”
Little did they know. For that matter, little did I know, either. Even though I knew that sailing required more attention and work than they realized, cruising in the North Atlantic Ocean required more than I realized, also. And as for staying busy? Ha! The trick is to sit down and stay quiet.
When we departed from Cape May, New Jersey, on July 7, there was a lovely south wind at 10-15 knots with a prediction of waves at 3-5 feet offshore. Until I was actually out there, I had only head knowledge of the meaning of such a prediction. The natural assumption when reading such information is to believe that the small waves will be about 3 feet high and the big ones might be 5 feet. That, however, is not what the prediction means. A forecast of waves 3-5 feet means that there will be more waves within that range than not, and higher waves up to three times that size are to be expected. Before I actually went offshore, I could only imagine what that meant. Now I have seen it for myself. It is important to understand the meaning of the forecast in order to understand the learning experience of riding such waves.
Our course was more north than east, which meant that a south wind was a following wind. A following wind pushes following waves. Sailors usually prefer wind and wave on the beam to wind and wave directly following, because waves approaching from behind wallow the boat. A 5-foot wave wallows the boat quite noticeably, and when some 3-foot and 5-foot waves run together to create a much larger one, the wallow factor is considerable. All that wallowing makes it difficult to stay on course, and it can even be tiring to attempt to sit still in one place as the boat wallows all over. The wallowing challenges the boat putaway plan, too, because every object that has room to move even an inch will do so. The wallowing goes in every direction, not just up and down, and items that were not loose and free to fly before departure may, in fact, find a way to leave their specified and planned locations to fly all over. It was a real learning experience to discover what didn’t stay where we put it. It was a lot of work after our passage was complete to find new ways to store things and to wonder if our new plan would work any better than the old one.
Of course, winds change and there came the time when the wind was on the beam at 15-20 knots and we were hoping to fly. People who have never sailed usually believe that the wind pushes a sailboat, and that is why they think following seas would be a good thing; a wind completely behind the boat would push it better. It is true that following winds push the sails, and that moves the boat, but while sails capture and use following wind, the boat can gain a lot more speed from a wind to the side or even somewhat in front. Winds to the side or in front do not so much push as pull the sail, which is designed like an airfoil, similar in concept to the design of an airplane wing that produces lift. When we observed that we had winds at 15 knots, gusting to 25 knots, on the beam, we knew that the sails would develop much more speed, and the ride through the water would be much smoother than with a following wind. We had our main up at the first reef point. We had our staysail deployed. We put on our gloves and let go the genoa. We could feel a small surge of speed as the genoa opened up, even though it was not tuned yet. When it was fully open, Larry wrapped the sheet around the winch and began to crank it down. The speed picked up. It felt so good. Bright sunlight on a deep blue sea. Whitecaps sparkling on all sides. Waves averaging about 5 feet and not a cloud in sight. We were doing what we came here to do. It was wonderful.
Suddenly there was a loud boom. Ka-pow! The genoa began to flap loudly. We ran to the starboard side of the boat where we saw that the sheets (the ropes that control the sail) had completely separated from the sail and were dangling over the side of the boat. The clew had given way and blown apart. The story of our retrieval of the sail is another story, but suffice it to say, repair was required.
Which brings me to Monday, July 13. After our 50-hour passage to Block Island, we were exhausted. The first thing we did after securing our mooring was to take a nap. Then we ate breakfast for supper and went back to bed. For two days we just lolled around and did nothing useful. On Sunday we walked around the island and enjoyed the sights. Then it was time to get down to business.
The business at hand was sail repair. When we were preparing for this life, one of our purchases was a Sailrite sewing machine. This machine is dramatically heavy duty, able to sew through layers of thick fabric without wincing. The presser foot can be released and tightened easily to accommodate layers and cording and so forth. It runs on electricity if you have it, but it also has a powerful wheel with a crank for hand power. The first time we used it, we needed to repair our old dodger when we were anchored out. We just took the sewing machine out to the aft deck and spread the work out there. Later, when we needed a new sail cover strip for our furling boom, we took the sewing machine out on deck to complete that work, because the cover must actually be sewn shut after it has been loaded into the boom.
Having arrived at Block Island and having recovered our senses after the passage, we proceeded to examine our wounded genoa. We discovered several problems. The one that looked the worst is actually the least important. The sail was made with a laminated fabric, and due to its age, some of the laminate was flaking off. We had already planned to order new sails in the fall, but we were not ready to do that yet. We could live with flaking laminate and still sail.
The problem that had brought us down was the broken clew. The clew is the corner of the sail where the lines that control it are attached. That corner is the point of greatest strain on the sail. It is reinforced with a metal ring and strong webbing sewed over the sail to absorb additional stress. The webbing inevitably frays, leading to inevitable failure. We needed new webbing, which we did not have. We could not repair this damage until we could obtain that material. Our next port of call is Newport, Rhode Island, a major sailing destination, where such supplies should be available.We must defer this repair.
The third problem needed to be addressed immediately. Much like the binding you might have at the edge of a quilt or blanket, the sail had a binding around its edge. The binding appeared to be intact with the exception of a few frayed spots, but it had begun to tear away from the sail because the thread that stitched it to the sail had rotted. This was a manageable repair.
We got out the sewing machine, oiled it and adjusted it as much as possible inside before taking it out on deck. We muttered a bit over the size of thread. It appeared to our untrained eyes that the V69 thread we had bought long ago from Sail-rite was about the same size as the thread that was used for the binding. It was also a fact that V69 thread was the only thread we had for this task. We decided that it must be exactly right.
We set the sewing machine on the cabin roof between the cockpit and the mast. The wounded sail was spread from the bow almost all the way to the aft deck. I began to sew at the clew around 1PM. By 4:30PM I was about 2 feet from the head of the sail when the bobbin ran out of thread. It seemed like a good time to call it a day. There appeared to be a couple more days of work, or one long hard day. We secured the sail so it wouldn’t be blown off the boat and planned our next move.
I’m not a professional sailmaker, and I never will be, but I looked at my work and felt quite satisfied. It was a great day. Nobody has a better place to work than I had. The day was sunny and briskly breezy. The sun was shining. All around were the blue waters of the Great Salt Pond on Block Island. When I tired of looking at the sail, I could look at boats of every description, the island, the water, the sky, gulls, and even people. I felt grateful to God for the opportunity to save our sailing summer by putting this sail back together with a simple sewing machine.
What on earth do we do all day when we are cruising full-time? We spend all our time doing what needs to be done to keep cruising. I’m sure that in time we will have some leisurely days. In fact, most days have some leisure time, although the 50-hour passage to Block Island had no leisure at all. We were lucky to get two-hour naps every so often. That is fine. I wouldn’t trade that experience for any amount of money, and I look forward to more such experiences. It is good to be fully engaged by something like that. Some people are never fully engaged in anything but daytime television. How sad!
In one sense it could be truly said that we work harder and longer now than we ever did as employees. In another sense it could be truly said that we are more free than we have ever been before. We are free people pursuing happiness as God gives us guidance to understand it. There could not possibly be a better life than that.
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