The Arctic Tern
Project
Volume 7 Issue No. 12 April 2011
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She Swims!
First, an apology for the long delay in getting this report out. The whole launch/commissioning thing has been a bit of an emotional roller-coaster but, folks, she’s in the water and looking good. Here are the details.
The Launch
Ok, first off actually, is the bottom paint. I decided not to trust my copper/epoxy concoction with keeping the fouling at bay as I’d had some mixed reports on its effectiveness. I chose Interlux Fiberglass BottomKote Racing Bronze to go over top and, amazingly, it looked almost identical to the copper underneath. Looks great and, it’s pretty cheap too. Apparently it can be burnished so a super-smooth finish but I decided to wait with that until next haul-out.
The next step was to haul the boat out of the shed so the mover could get his trailer underneath so I built this little skid-way to pull the boat out on.
Then we cranked it out using a come-along with friend Scotty’s truck as an anchor.
It was fantastic to see the boat finally out of the shed. After six years I was finally able to get a good look at the full sweep of her lines. She looked stunning.
The next day the mover came along with his trailer and I proceeded to chainsaw-away the cradle bit-by-bit until he could get the trailer under it. It was a bit nerve wracking but eventually she was standing on just a couple of blocks and there was nothing left to cut away.
…And out she goes…
A short run down the road and she arrives that the Travel Lift at the Silva Bay shipyard.
…where she’s hoisted off the trailer and gently set down in the water on a cold, blustery, March (15) day.
Did she float on her lines? Well not quite. Despite my best efforts she was high in the bow and down in the stern. Dang! I thought I’d done the math! Well, at least there were a few inches of bottom paint showing at the bow so I’d see what I could do with trim ballast before bringing out my matches.
We flashed up the Torqeedo and nephew Grant and I motored her over to a temporary slip where she’d stay for the next few days until I could arrange passage through Gabriola Pass. The Torqeedo managed to push us along at a steady couple of knots. In the photo on the right below I’d already put 150 lbs of trim ballast under the v-berth to try to level her out. This helped but it was still bugging me as I’d much rather have the 150 lbs in the keel where it belonged. This was lead-shot I’d held back from putting in the keel specifically for use as trim ballast later but I was hoping I’d be able to put it in one of the keel compartments and not inside the boat. Hind-sight was making me kick myself that I’d epoxied 150 lbs of lead shot in keel compartment number 4 (rearmost of the 4 forward compartments) when I’d done the ballasting. I’d had reasons for doing it at the time but in hindsight they seemed dubious.
A few days later I arranged a tow over to her home port of Degnen Bay (I wasn’t going to trust the electric motor to make it the whole way) and put her in her slip.
With the 150 lbs distributed under the forward 2/3 of the v-berth (50 lbs at the foot, 50 lbs at the knees, and 50 lbs at the midriff) she trimmed pretty level with about an inch of bottom paint showing all around (maybe an inch and a half at the bow and ¾ of an inch at the stern). Still a source of chagrin but I had the mast, boom, sails and rigging to go on yet. You may remember from an earlier report that I’d painted the waterline two inches higher than the designed waterline and I’m damned glad I did (three inches would have been even better). So based on where she was floating and the displacement calculations I’d done previously I now estimated her weight at about 3,400 lbs. More than I’d hoped or expected but less than my worst fears.
But dang, she sure looked good in the water! I was ecstatic with her aesthetics. Cabin was low, svelte, and sexy. Sheer was gorgeous; purposeful and jaunty without a hint of exaggeration or cartoonishness.
Ok, next thing was to arrange a tow down to Sidney where the mast-makers were standing by to put in the stick and do up the rigging. I’d always planned on a tow down and a sail back (it’s nearly 40 nautical miles each way) because I wouldn’t have the range with the electric motor to make it down under my own power but about this time I discovered the electric motor had packed it in (after about 30 minutes of use; more on this later). I removed the motor and shipped it off to Chicago to see what Torqeedo had to say about it. It was looking like the sail back was going to be strictly “old-school”, sail power only.
Happily, my friend Bert was having his 45’ sloop towed down to Sidney to have its motor replaced and I was graciously allowed to tag along as third boat in the train. Our tow-captain was friend Adam and his Capable Cape George 34’. The red line on the map below shows our approximate track down.
To get the ebb we were to cast off at 6 am. So I set my alarm for 4:30 in the morning. Dawn broke sunny and beautiful after days of miserable weather and the tow proceeded without a hitch.
Our destination was Tsehum Harbour with its dredged channels, crowded slips and many hidden rocks where we arrived in the early afternoon.
I had to go to the very north end (top of the chart above) and Burt had to go to the south end. Just outside the entrance we cast off Bert to the ministrations of a tow boat from Gartside Marine and Adam strapped Alula to the side of his Cape George and proceeded to thread his way expertly through the labyrinth of slips, channels, and rocks to deposit us, stern in and as light as a feather, in a 26 foot slip at the far north end of Westport marina. Unbelievable; I’d be hard-pressed to get Alula in there on her own let alone with a Cape George 34 strapped to her side. After spinning his boat in its own length with eye-popping bursts of his 90 hp diesel and describing an arc with the bowsprit that cleared surrounding boats by maybe four inches, and with a quick toot on his horn, Adam and his capable Cape George started steaming back for Gabriola with nary a pause for tea. Thanks Adam! You and your boat are golden.
Whew, safe and sound. After contacting the harbour master I walked the boat around to an open slip where she’d berth for the next couple of days.
Then the rains returned.
And that night it cleared and the temperature plummeted. I was warm and cozy inside with my Dickinson heater but when I awoke the next morning I was surprised to see the boat covered in ice and the wet towel I’d left outside as stiff as a board.
That day, Camilla from Mainstay Yachttech (http://www.yachttech.com) came to measure up for the rigging. The following day Serge and Adrian(?) came with an inflatable dinghy to ferry us over to the south end of the harbour where we’d use the crane on the fisherman’s dock to step the mast. Friend Bert happened to notice my mast going by on the trailer and stopped by to lend a hand (there he is with his hands in his pockets).
The stepping went smoothly (there’s me helping out in the photo on the left and Camilla and Adrian(?) in the photo on the right.
So after the mast is temporarily stayed we move her over to another slip to complete the rigging. There’s Serge (Mainstay Yachttech owner) and Camilla working away.
We moved her one more time when we got a polite request to vacate the slip we’d commandeered (we needed to have the swaging machine elevated anyway) and completed the rigging and enjoyed a delicious lunch that Serge provided from the Deli across the road (You’re the best, Serge!).
Then Serge towed us over to a slip he’d graciously arranged for me gratis (shower key and shore power included!) at the marina that his boat is berthed at and I was able to marvel at the beauty of this boat with her rig in place. Gosh, darn, she looked good!
The next day (a Saturday), Serge and Camilla came back and finished things up. There’s Camilla up the mast putting the Windex on.
Then Serge helped me bend on the sails and towed me out to open water outside the harbour where I hoisted sail and started off for home. I gotta say again, Serge, Camilla and all those folks at Yachttech (http://www.yachttech.com) are fantastic (I felt as though I’d made a couple of new friends) and they do beautiful, high quality work to boot! Thanks you guys! You’re the best!
Homeward Bound!
It was quite a moment when I hoisted sail for the very first time on this boat and headed off. The breeze was light to moderate and I had a fair wind for my day’s destination of Sidney Spit (only a few miles away). Sidney Spit has a bunch of public mooring buoys aligned in a couple of rows parallel to the spit (right about where the words “Sidney Spit” are written on the chart below) so I wouldn’t have to worry about anchoring under sail when I arrived. Plus, Sidney Spit was reasonably familiar territory to me (unlike Tsehum Harbour) and was just a short hop away; a good choice for a first sail. The only downside is that the spit is quite exposed, especially to any winds with west in them and we were getting south-west winds at the moment. If it wasn’t for the mooring buoys this wouldn’t be a safe anchorage.
I was nervous though; already thinking about picking up a mooring buoy under sail at Sidney Spit; worrying that the wind may desert me or come on too strong. The weather looked changeable and clouds had started rolling in that afternoon. But I waved farewell to Serge and Alula put her hip in and sped away on a close reach for the Spit. She felt good. No glaring vices yet; reasonably stiff; a comforting couple degrees of weather-helm. The sails fit and set beautifully and looked awesome; thanks to Rick at Leitch & McBride Sails in Sidney (http://www.leitchandmcbride.com). I was happy with Alula’s sailing abilities so far but I was really just focussed on getting us to the Spit and safely moored for the night. The wind picked up a bit; gusting from the south; and suddenly we were there at Sidney Spit doing six knots on a close reach and passing mooring buoys like they were a picket fence. There were only two other boats there so congestion wasn’t an issue but I wanted to find a bit of flatter water to take down the jib so I could make another pass under main alone. Not much shelter; the waves were rolling in from the south-south-west. I knew things got shallow at the south-east end of the little bay but that’s where the flat water was. I headed towards the south arm of the bay and rounded up to take down the jib. Strange, she still seemed to be healing over at about 20 degrees. That’s when I noticed the plume of mud in the water behind us. We’d run aground! I couldn’t believe it. I sat there for a few seconds wondering what to do next. I decided to re-hoist the jib and sheet both sails in hard to heal her over even more and see if I could sail out of this situation. Well, I just managed to drive her another 15 feet up the beach before we were stuck again. Ok, that was good enough. Now she’s healed over about 25 degrees and stuck fast. I take down both sails and scurry below to find out what the tide is doing (Please, God, let it be a flooding tide!). I’ve got the tide tables on my netbook computer and it took me a couple tries from my shaking fingers to get my password right. I bring up my tide program, find the Sidney tide station and click the “now” button with my fingers crossed. Miracle of miracles we are at the exact bottom of the ebb! Thank you, Neptune. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the water to get thicker. Although there was a bit of wave action we were nestled softly in mud and eel-grass so I wasn’t really worried about damage.
The red ‘X’ on the chart above shows the approximate location where we went aground. I was just about to put out my backup anchor as a kedge using my (borrowed) dinghy (thanks Scotty) when one of the other boats fired up their rubber dinghy and came over to see if I needed a hand. The other boat (a sailboat to boot!) just dropped their mooring and left. Anyway, the guy in the rubber boat asked if he could help so I asked him to run out my two anchors so I could kedge myself out when the water came back. We ran these out off the stern and I put tension on them with my sheet winches. I found out his name is Lars and his company, Westwind Hardwoods in Sidney, sold me all the plywood for this boat! Small world. So Lars put my anchors out and graciously came back when we were floating again and towed us to a mooring buoy. Oh, man! What a maiden sail! You know what they say though, “If you haven’t been aground then you haven’t been around”. I was relieved to have that one off my list and felt fortunate to have gone aground under such benign circumstances. Whew! Their rescue complete, Lars and his wife chugged back to Sidney and I was left alone at the Spit. Safely tied to a stout, government issue, mooring buoy I felt secure despite the increasing wind and waves. I made a couple phone calls to friends and family (thanks Dad for the loan of the cell!) and related the grounding story; I was already starting to laugh pretty hard about it; and then enjoyed the evening on my boat, away from the crowds of Sidney, self contained and content (and thankful I hadn’t lost the whole thing earlier that day). The wind moaned through the rigging and we bounced around a bit but I was warm and safe. The cheery flames of the Dickinson heater dispelling the gloom, damp, and cold. That little fireplace is worth its weight in gold. I’ve frozen on boats in the past and it’s no fun. This Dickinson makes the difference between an ordeal and a pleasant experience. I love it. At the end of the day there’s nothing so comforting and restorative as being warm and dry. In the past I’ve often crawled into my berth and gone to sleep early if only to escape the cold and damp. With this heater you can put your feet up, dry your clothes, and enjoy a pleasant evening reading or whatever. It’s absolutely fantastic. Generally, I have it on for a few hours in the evening and maybe an hour in the morning when I first get up. I can even light it without fully exiting the v-berth in the mornings. Luxury!
Sunday dawned ugly and the Environment Canada weather report did nothing to dispel my misgivings. Winds gusting to 30 knots, rain. Even though it was to be a fair wind for my next stop I decided to hunker down and stay at the Spit until Monday when I hoped conditions would improve and, truth be told, I was still shaky from my near disaster of the previous day. So Sunday was spent lying around reading, eating, planning the next leg of the trip, and taking trips to shore in the dinghy.
Sunday at Sidney Spit
Monday looked a little better; forecast was for south-west winds 10-15 knots, maybe 20 at times; so I hoisted sail, dropped the mooring and headed off for Montague Harbour on Galiano Island.
The red line shows our approximate track to Montague. It’s about 20 nautical miles from Sidney Spit. Montague also has government-issue mooring buoys so, again, I would be able to avoid anchoring under sail. We made good time that day although the winds were really variable. At times we were becalmed but as we neared Montague the wind picked up and veered to the west-north-west. We actually ended up on a beat as we neared the entrance to Montague. I had too much sail up (should have been reefed) and the rail was frequently under water but since I was close to shelter I just cheated the boat up into the wind and luffed the sails to depower them (lazy; it’s called a “fisherman’s reef”). I was kinda frazzled at this point as I’d left most of the food and drink down below and had been too busy for most of the day to retrieve it. But as I threaded into the entrance of Montague Harbour I found shelter from the winds and was able to take down the jib without incident and ghost in under main alone. Alula seemed to sail really well with just the main and would slip along quite happily on barely a breath of wind. We ghosted our way across the harbour to the north end where the mooring buoys are and expertly picked up our chosen one. I took down the main, got everything put away and ship-shape and then gave myself a hearty pat on the back for a job well done. Our first unassisted passage; from anchorage to anchorage under sail alone with no hope of a motor for backup; and we didn’t even go aground this day!
Alula at Montague Harbour, Galiano Island
After a restful night in the calm waters of Montague Harbour we hoisted sail on Tuesday for our final leg home. The weather was sunny and we had a fair wind of 5 to 15 knots as we threaded our way northward out of the anchorage.
Again, it was about a 20 nautical mile journey, but on this day we had wonderful conditions; a broad reach all the way in 5 to 15 knots of wind. We fairly flew along and arrived at the west entrance of Gabriola pass well ahead of schedule and thus facing the tail end of the ebb. I had called friend Bert earlier in the day and asked if he’d be willing to escort us in to Degnen Bay with his inflatable to which he graciously agreed. I took a few tacks at the entrance to the pass but the wind was too light and ebb too strong so Bert strapped the inflatable to the side of Alula and took us in to our home berth at Degnen Bay. A great day of sailing and a whole week spent living on the boat. I loved it and didn’t want to leave the boat to go home.
Home at Degnen Bay
The Torqeedo Saga
After I got home I found out that Torqeedo wasn’t going to fix my motor under warrantee. Apparently, there’d been water ingress in the motor pod that was likely caused by my modifications. There is a threaded-rod that attaches the pod to the top of the shaft. I had removed this to shorten it but had not resealed it when I put it back in. I remember at the time that I’d inspected the threads closely for signs of sealant and probed the hole to determine if it was a dead-end. I had concluded that it had to be a dead-end hole (what engineer would put a threaded hole all the way through to the electrical guts of the motor?) and found no evidence of sealant and so simply replaced the end fitting of the rod in the pod. Well, apparently the hole does go all the way into the guts of the motor and they seal the end fitting of the rod with Teflon tape (a dubious practice in my books). So there you have it. Live and learn. This particular model of Torqeedo (401 BaseTravel) was discontinued so I frantically searched for old-stock on eBay. I found one and ordered it. A week or so later it arrived but unfortunately it was DOA (dead on arrival; not working). I’m still trying to get that sorted out.
Silva Bay Boat Launch Festival
The weekend after my arrival back was our local Silva Bay Shipyard School launch festival (http://www.boatschool.com) that happens each year when the students launch their projects. Alula was invited to attend along with other visiting boats from around the region and she drew many admiring comments.
Conclusion
How can I possibly draw to a close this long story that I’ve been telling? From a pile of wood to a living boat; it’s quite a journey. Would I do it again? Yep. In a perfect world I’d build boats for my friends in the mornings and go sailing in the afternoons. But I’d do it differently; Less emotion, more balance, and faster too! But that’s what first-boats are like I guess. I am so thankful that she’s turned out as well as she has. Although I’m bummed out about the ballast issue I know I’ll get that sorted out. Yep, and the Torqeedo fiasco is a thorn in my side; but that’ll get sorted out as well. As my good friend Larry Cheek said when I expressed my discouragement over these problems:
“It doesn't stop just because you've completed the boat; it likely will continue throughout your life with her. There'll always be frustrations and problems, but balanced by successes and joys. Expect this cycle as the way the universe works, and it'll lose its power to take you down.”
Thanks Larry. Good advice indeed. Thank you to Sam Devlin for designing this beauty that captivated my imagination all those years ago. Thank you to friends and family who’ve supported and encouraged me over the long haul that has been the building of this boat. I know it hasn’t been easy for you either. My Dad, Egon for keeping the fire lit under my rump with his regular visits and my sister Kirsten for being my biggest fan and publicist. Sonia, for providing a safe and healing place for me to go on the numerous occasions when I thought it was all ending in disaster. You are like gold, but better. And thank you to all you readers who have followed this journey and sent in your selfless words of encouragement and support; you have helped me more than you’ll ever know and you give me hope yet for human-kind.
Peter Erik Gron
Gabriola Island, BC
April 2011
Cheers,
Peter.