May 8 - 19 -- Launch, GIC and ILENE's First Sail of 2019!

And five work days (27 hours) sprinkled in and about the three main events.

Lots of taking off the winter stuff: ladder, hose, electric cord, painting and polishing equipment -- to the car and thence to the locker. I reinstalled the microchip containing all of the charts of the Atlantic coast of the US, Canada and at least some of the Bahamas into the MFD. When out of the MFD the chip is so tiny that it gets stored in the somewhat larger chip. That's my finger to show how small things are.
Also, I hosed down the deck, getting off 99 percent of the debris that accumulates there all winter, purged the fresh water lines of propylyne glycol, filled both of the tanks with seven minutes of hose water, and reattached the salon table.
The launch, assisted by the Huguenot's Orlando and Gus, was as uneventful as conceivable -- on time, with none of the various hitches of prior years involving salt water in the boat.

The  Huguenot let me tie up to their dock overnight, because had I driven to the Harlem I would not have arrived until after the last launch at 4 pm. Next morning I bent on the small jib, my favorite sail in case of engine failure in a tight spot. It is so easy to unfurl, regardless of the direction of the wind and its self tacking feature makes it easy to tack out of a tight spot. But this task, sadly, was not uneventful: first I forgot to roll the furling line into the drum. This was corrected by hand furling the sail at the foil, being that it was a light wind day in a well protected spot. But next I realized that I had led that furler line to starboard instead of port! I had planned to mount another sail that day but spent too much time with the small jib. I motored to the Harlem -- very fast on such a clean bottom. Bennett came, we had lunch and he drove me to the Huguenot where his Ohana was launched and my car awaited my drive home. Next day it was my turn to return the favor, to drive Bennett and his friend Ian from the Harlem to the Huguenot. Then we drove Ohana to the Harlem as soon as the tide rose enough to get her keel out of the mud. But instead of mooring there, we made a slow underway transfer of Mendy and his friend, Grace, from to launch to Ohana for a half hour sail before the launch shutdown for the night at 4:00. Well it was more of a drift than a sail, but gave Grace a wee taste of what sailing can be.
Then after two rest days of rain and a severe stiff neck I bent on ILENE's two large sails and eventually put in the reefing lines on my fifth try to get them right. Also mounted the blocks for the dinghy davits (at the cost of the pin of one shackle; they don't float!), the Lifesling, and the MOM-8 man overboard module, which is secure but not on right yet. The rest was interior cleaning which is now mostly done.
The Harlem's 136th Annual Going into Commission came off on a nice warm sunny Saturday afternoon.

I got this good photo by going to the sea wall, as unobtrusively as possible, to get the sun on the faces of our Flag officers backed up by all of our Past Commodores. This ceremonial raising of the flags at the start of the season is a time capsule. It hasn't changed during the 30 years I have been with the Club, and probably not during the 100 years before that either. There are never surprises during this ceremony and I think that's a good thing. In a world where everything seems to be changing rapidly all the time, this timeless ceremony gives a note of serenity. And we have had black, female and gay people in these lines, by the way, though, as I understand it, the Club did not admit females to membership until the 1970's. Bennett and Harriet had planned to attend but something came up so they gave their ticket to Mendy who enjoyed the abundant good food. The company was great - all sailors, and we were seated with, among others, Paul and Amy, who with their eight year old son, sail a Sabre 32 called "Farther". That's a good name for a cruising boat , which is how they want to use it. Thus is only their second season with her. I filled their heads with as much as I could.  I was authorized to try to plan a club cruise for this summer by the new Fleet Captain, Matt.
Next day was ILENE's first sail and Rhoda came along. I helped her install her boats batteries and we did not get off the mooring until after four, for a 90 minute romp. The wind had been predicted for the low teens all day but we saw gusts up to 30 knots. We used the full main but no head sail. It was a shakedown cruise and we moved fast, achieving 8.4 knots for about 30 seconds. We were on port tack to near Throggs Neck and then a long starboard beam reach to the eastern side of Manhasset Bay. Rhoda had the helm most of the day. A shakedown and the bowline at the bottom of the blue first reefing line blew out -- I had poorly tied the knot.  We picked up the mooring on our first try but I sort of fell from the gunnel of the launch onto its deck when departing. It took the wind out of me for a few minutes but nothing broken and so apparent bruises of excessive pains. Too much wind and the launch operator was straining to hold the launch to the boat's side, but not close enough.
I'm ready for more! The fun has begun!

Sailing a Cat In The Grenadines -- Part 2 -- The Adventure

We began and ended at the Blue Lagoon Marina on St. Vincent itself and visited eight other islands, putting in about 110 miles with only one lay day.










The first and last stops were in Admiralty Bay on Bequia, the sailing center of the nation. Both of our stops there, however, were Sundays which meant not much action. Below a pretty Bequian sunset.

We first took a mooring close to town and on the way back we anchored further out, near Jack's restaurant.  Our most memorable experience was a visit by a lovely affectionate stranger who invited herself to our table at Macs' restaurant. Harriet gave her some food. Then she engaged in a prominent, public, thorough, five-minute bathing ritual and curled up on my lap for half an hour of symbiotically pleasurable  petting, until we left. She looked a lot like our Alphie Girl, who was being sat in New York by our friend, Nanda, but more affectionate.

The Tobago Cays was my favorite stop. Three islands, almost surrounded by reefs make a nice harbor. So popular that it is a national park with a modest fee. We were led to a mooring in the cut between Petite Rameau to the north and Petite Bateau to the south by a boat boy, Neil, a grown man really. I asked: "Where are the lobsters?" He said "That's me!" We recalled that in 2011 we had enjoyed half a large clawless Caribbean crustacean grilled over charcoal in half a 50 gallon drum, served  with large portions of grilled potatoes, rice with peas, plantains and salad, with fresh fruit for desert. Then it was served on the east or windward side of Petite Bateau. This made for an after dinner challenge: launching and getting into the dink in the surf. But now the dinner is cooked on the protected leeward side of the island, closer to our mooring, under the tent like structures as viewed from our boat.

The price is a bargain at $110 EC, about $41 US. Back then they served no beverages at any price but now they do, though you still have to bring your own silverware. It is barefoot dining at picnic tables with other sailors from France, England, Canada, Germany, etc., all reveling in a magical experience. Lobstering season ended the next day, so our timing was lucky, but Neil will continue serving fish and chicken. Incidentally, in 2011 there was only a tarp hung between trees over the cooking station and only a dozen folks were served. Now there are about a half dozen friendly competitors who have the kind of covers used at street fairs and they served about a hundred revelers.
But the heart of the park is the turtle reservation on the SW side of the easternmost island, Baradel. It is marked off by swimming pool lane style floats to keep boats out. We dinked to the tiny beach at the south end of the island, to the right as seen from our boat, snorkeled, and then walked the path to the top of the island, only 70 feet high but providing panoramic views.

My joy is to find and float above "my turtle" for maybe 20 minutes with a clear underwater view thanks to the snorkel mask, watching him assiduously bite off bits of short seagrass. At one point he swam up the eight or so feet, poked his head out of the water, scanned the area and dove back down to continue breakfasting. Sort of like what we later did in climbing to the "summit" of Baradel. We also came to a large section where the bottom had a lot of large starfish, lying apparently dead to the world, about five or six feet apart in an irregular pattern. Bennett and Harriet did more snorkeling than we did and even brought their own gear. Bennett saw a ray as well. The only daytime rain during our cruise was during the snorkeling, while we were already wet. Many nights had brief five minute light showers and one a bit heavier while we were under shelter at a restaurant.

Sailing is always more fun with pretty girls aboard!

Next came the port of Clifton on the NE corner of Union Island. The harbor is created by a large surrounding reef and has another reef in its center called "Go Around Reef".  We dinked in to shop and bank, including fruits and vegetables from Eleen's, one of several shops in the market.

Eleen claimed to have remembered  Ilene from 2011. Then to Happy Island, a bar built with concrete on a tiny sandbar in the harbor, approachable only by shallow draft dinks, stand up paddleboards or by swimming -- they accept wet money.  The island behind the left boat in the picture below. Our only true indoor dinner with shoes was back in town. Bennett said that the Union Island people were the friendliest people of all the friendly folks in the Grenadines.

My original itinerary included Sandy Island next. But we were warned off of that plan in the chart briefing because that uninhabited sandbar is a suburb of Carriacou Island which is a suburb of Grenada, a different nation. So technically this stop would have required four visits to customs and immigration: to check in and back out of both St. Vincent and Grenada. The attraction at Sandy, where we had taken a mooring for the night in 2011, is the schools of larger tropical fish when snorkeling. Our chart briefer suggested Mopion, instead of Sandy, an even smaller sandbar near Petite
St. Vincent. Is only good for day anchoring while snorkeling, to be followed by anchoring at Petite St. Vincent at night. Well it was blowing 25 knots across tiny Mopion so even if we had anchored there, snorkeling would not have been fun. We took a look and went the extra mile to anchor at Petite St. Vincent, thinking we could snorkel Mopion next morning before the winds built up. PSV is a private island operated as an exclusive resort with 22 separate elegant one or two bedroom houses and two dining rooms. The rate in high season for a one bedroom is $1980 US per night plus 21% for taxes and service charges but that includes three gourmet meals per day, except alcohol.

Like I said, exclusive; its for folks who want to get away. But it was off season and they do allow (they can't stop) boats from anchoring off shore (ours was the boat to the left). They did allow us use of a significant part of the lovely beach and to have supper under a grass roofed hut a few feet from the water. Another barefoot fine dining experience. I made the mistake of ordering barracuda steak; too bony, kingfish is better.
In the morning Mopion was scratched because the wind had not died down. But we reverted to the original idea of Sandy Island, figuring that if we took a mooring for only a few hours and snorkeled without setting foot on the sandbar, we would not be violating Grenadian sovereignty.  This was the first time we tried to take a mooring without the help of a boat boy and we learned how useful they are for catamarans. After several attempts, we gave up. No pickup sticks, short pennants from the tops of the balls and a great height at the front of our two bows, 24 feet apart, from which the ends of each of the two mooring lines had to be inserted through the eye  and then lifted back up on deck.  It seemed impossible. In fact Bennett even put on his flippers and tried to do it from in the water. This swimming move was dangerous but no one was hurt. the wind would blow us off before we could accomplish the manouver. This shows our track, the black lines, during the attempts.

 We left Sandy without stopping and sailed to Chatham Bay on the leeward side of Union Island and anchored there. Despite being on the leeward side, catabatic winds come whooshing down from the hilltops so it was not really calm. I noticed that the jib furler had wrapped around the foil above the drum rather than in the drum. We found the jib halyard, lowered that sail, tied it down to the deck so it would not blow away and anchored. Then we set to work getting the furler straightened out and raising the jib again. We were struggling in the wind with me at the winch, Bennett trying to feed the luff tape into the foil's groove and trying to keep the women aft so they would not get conked by the flailing block at the clew. The mistake I had made was not straightening out the luff tape before we started feeding it, with a resulting twist. A voice appeared from a dink: "Can I be of help?" The answer was yes and the man tied off his dink, came aboard and provided the third set of hands.

It was Frank who with his wife Jules, became our friends for the next few days.

Their boat is a 40 foot Hunter named "Ever After" anchored next to us but a good safe distance away. I forgot to mention how huge Chatham Bay is, room for a hundred boats but only seven of us present; so no need to anchor too near anyone else. They live aboard with an orange tabby named cruiser, in Grenada and work aboard as proprietors of a boat canvas shop with two sewing machines. Frank was a Montana rancher and cowboy who became a farrier in the California thoroughbred racing industry where he met Jules, who had spent many years in Arizona and was a lady jockey.
We took them to dinner at Seckie and Vanessa's beachfront shelter. We had dined there in 2011 and reenacted the same routine. Me: "We are friends of Tabou, from St. Vincents, who now lives part of the year in the Berkshires in Massachusetts." He: "Yes, and how is his wife Rona?" They are now assisted by Summer, Vanessa's nephew.
Next day, was a lay day for us, except for me: Frank and Jules needed to go around to the Clifton side of Union island to visit an ATM and we needed provisions. I asked to hitchhike and they accepted me and gave me the helm. They are on vacation from their business until June. I got to know them a bit. Very competent and Frank is a lot like our friend, Dean, of "Autumn Borne": always eager to help strangers. Also, because they live in Grenada, and love animals, and with the Arizona connection, I am going to electronically introduce them to our friend Marty, another Arizona expat who has similar interests.  While I was away, Laurenz had fixed the outboard and seeing that the dink was not at our boat, Frank put me ashore where I walked the long beach to the other end which has a four room resort where I hooked up with the rest of Azurro's crew.

Harriet had looked up the fact that anchoring is permitted at Sandy Island, southwest of the mooring field, so we returned there, planning to anchor, dink to a mooring and then snorkel from the dink, without setting foot on the soil of Grenada. But a boat boy was present and helped put us on a mooring. I saw a large school of large black disc shaped fish and followed them for a while. Here is the northern end, where the fish are, and a southern part of this sandbar.

After a few hours we retraced our wake past Chatham Bay and on to Saltwhistle Bay in the northwest corner of Mayreau Island. A small harbor, but there was room for us. Bennett wanted ribs but none of the restaurants had any and we settled for chicken. Next to us was a boatload, and I mean load, of twelve physicians from Poland on a large cat; one was not a doctor yet but the daughter, in medical school, of the captain, a dermatologist.

Then, after Bequia, to Young Island Cut,on St. Vincent a mile away from Blue Lagoon, where we snorkeled and had dinner at the resort there. Bennett and Harriet, they are younger, climbed to near the top of the adjacent  sugarloaf shaped island where they got this picture with Blue Lagoon center background.

Next morning, at our request, Mike drove over in his dink, came aboard and piloted us back to the charter base in Blue lagoon where we were debriefed.

Lots of photo credits to Bennett.

Sailing a Cat in The Grenadines-- April 27 - May 7 -- Part I

We cruised for eleven days in St Vincents and the Grenadines with Bennett and Harriet. The cat was the girls' idea -- an experiment. They were enthused about the no-heeling reputation of catamarans. The glasses won't tip over! Everything does not have to be secured in the cabin! These were the attractions of a cat to our women. This post describes the boat and its sailing characteristics; Part II will describe the fun we had. So if you are one of the readers who does not like the sailing aspects, just skip to the next posting, soon.

Ours was a Lagoon 39 of 2016, named "Azurro II" owned by French people with a Vincentian courtesy flag.

It was a generous sized boat for only two couples because it was designed for four. Unlike Long Island Sound, the prevalence of cats in the Vincentian waters was remarkable -- in one port, including us, there were nine cats and only three monohulls. And in looking around, we noticed that Azurro II was one of the smaller cats out there.

We arrived after a long day of travel at nine pm, got settled aboard and slept at the dock of the well sheltered Blue Lagoon Marina in the south coast of St. Vincents, the largest and capital island of the archipelago nation of St. Vincents and the Grenadines. The boat had  slightly smaller cabins in the forward part of each of its hulls, which we used for storage, and quite large ones aft. Large enough that we slept, pullman style, athwart ships, what with no material heeling. In each hull the cabins were separated by a passageway inboard and a head with shower and sink.  These bedroom sections were six steps down from the central ridging portion of the boat which had a large table, nav desk and galley, forward, and another large table on the outdoor covered patio deck aft. The indoor and outdoor sections of the upper deck were separated by a large sliding door and window and we closed them, and locked them, only when leaving the boat. The interior wood was blond and nice looking, but the cabin sole was a dark plastic type material that has several lighter blotches where prior sailors has apparently used bleach to get up dirt. Up another four steps was the helm station, to starboard, covered by a canvas bimini of its own, with steering and engine controls, a large new B&G Multi 'Function Display and two winches, one electrified, from which all lines for both sails could be handled. The boat was equipped with everything one might need (except dinghy lights). Though young, the boat already showed signs of wear: dents and scrapes that result from use and are characteristic of chartered vessels that are used by many people, not their owners, and some of whom have skill

shortages. In fact, while we did no material harm we had never sailed a cat and experienced a learning curve.

Before we could get underway we had three tasks to accomplish. First the girls took a cab to the market for provisioning. While they were away, Marlin gave us guys a thorough tour of the boat showing us where everything was, e.g. boathook, first aid kit, dinghy anchor,  keys, flashlight, tool kit, etc. There is so much storage space that one must remember which large cabinet has each item. The tool kit, with its often used pliers, sat in the kneewell of the interior navigation station. Marlin told us how to turn on and off each switch, and which ones not to touch. He turned on the two engines and the electronics. He lowered the dink from its davits and turned on its outboard. The third task was the chart briefing by Raymond who outlined the favorite destinations and the distances between them, described in hours not nautical miles. Lene and I had been through these waters in 2011, twice: first southbound toward neighboring Grenada in the spring and again northbound in the fall. We had ideas about which ports to visit and the one to avoid (Mustique -- an overpriced exclusive Disneyland style island). In fact, I had laid out our entire draft itinerary months ago and sent it to our companions; I love cruise planning.

Finally about noon, Mike, our pilot, raised the main and piloted us out through the single red and green day marks at the sides of the channel between the reefs that protect Blue Lagoon and then left in the dink he had brought along. Regrettably, none of our coaches knew how to get the data out of the MFD. It provides lots of info to those who know which buttons to push. And there was no manual for its use. We have learned Raytheon's system but not B&G's. We used it, but without finding the "find boat" button or putting in a waypoint and getting course and time or distance to it.

Unbeknownst to us, Mike had put the second reef in the main for our first passage. I believe that he had intended to put in only the first reef but the labels on the clutches for the two reefing lines were reversed! We did have the first reef in most of the days we sailed. I had the helm for most of the time and found that observation of the main sail trim from the helm was quite difficult. I had to put the boat on auto and come down and aft to see that sail's trim. I never found the adjustable outhaul for the main; maybe there is none
.

The reefing lines were fitted with sleeves of the outer layer of braided line, probably to prevent excess tightening. The effect was that the second reef line hung loose when the sail was furled, in a big loop at the aft end of the boom. And the boom runs quite a bit aft of the hard dodger/patio roof

high above that deck. The loop snagged the flagpole once, but worse, it got wrapped around the boom. That prevented raising the main to its full first-reefed height. I used the boat hook in one hand, holding onto the boat with the other while Lene held onto me for safety while I groped with the boat hook and unhooked the tangle while bouncing in the seas. Also, because the aft end of the boom extends so far aft of the boat, instead of a back stay there are two strong rubber covered stays running from the mast head, one to each quarter. Off the wind, one of these stays was pressed against the main, creasing its belly

The final problem with the main was that we were never able to close its stack pack. We were able to mash the sail into the stack pack somewhat but not to close it. This was not a problem for us, but it permitted the intense Caribbean sun to gradually destroy the owner's sail. We could never reach the zipper atop the aft end of the boom.

As for the jib, it was a self tacking one as seen in the photo above, like aboard ILENE, but it has no secondary jib sheets to pull the clew forward and down to obtain a better trim downwind. One day the pin in the shackle that attaches the jibsheet/outhaul to the clew of the jib fell out! These things can happen if the rigging is not frequently and closely observed. Fortunately, the pin was captured by the open shackle and did not dive overboard. We were able to furl the sail and tie a line around it (Azurro II had several spare lines; some chartered boats have not an inch of it!) and made the reattachment once on a sheltered mooring. The only mistake in that regard, which we pointed out to the charter company, was that we reattached it 180 degrees wrong, resulting in a twist in the line. Another time we tightened the furling line too tight on the electric winch and got a wrap. What to do? The only thing I could think of was to cut the knot at the top of the furling drum. This shortened the line by five inches, which was immaterial given its extra length.

All told, the boat seemed slow, given the strong winds we had, though on the return we did see a few minutes of 7.4 knots one day. I will attribute some of the slowness to my lack of familiarity with the fine points of sailing a cat.

The charter company twice sent out its contracted mechanic on Union Island, Laurenz.

First to fix the refrigerator door hinge which had been broken off and check the batteries which he said were OK as long as we ran one of the engines two hours twice per day. But it was Bennett who figured out, when despite the solar panels wed had to turn off the refrigerator at night to keep the "low voltage" alarm from buzzing. Lorenz second trip it was to clean the carburetor of the dinghy engine which was shutting itself down at the most inconvenient times.
The company also "ate" the fuel cost, almost $200 US, for 20 gallons, which the charter broker had not told us about. We can't complain about Dream Charters.

OK; but how did the experiment turn out? Well the Admiral's conclusion was "I'd rather be sailing our boat."  I agree and considered that comment to be a successful conclusion of the experiment. Our monohull digs in and heels a bit, but due to its heavy low pendulous keel it then rides through and over the waves rather smoothly. A cat is a big rectangle, 39 feet long and perhaps 24 feet wide. As advertised, even without a keel, a cat does not heel much, due to its huge beam. It can't press its leeward hull down into the water far enough to get much of a heel.

But instead, the waves pick up one corner of the rectangle at a time and then drop that corner to pick up another. So there is considerable irregular random rocking motion, particularly when the wind and waves are abeam. And the helm is much higher than on a sloop; my eyes are maybe 12 feet above the water.

The rocking and rolling is magnified at that height. Another effect of the extra height above sea level of the helmsperson's eyes is to diminish the pleasurable illusion of speed. In not too many other vehicles does going seven knots, about eight miles an hour, feel fast. From the height of the cat it seems less fast at the same speed.