Foggy Memories

This week’s episode of the Spray Logs reminds us that Halloween will soon be upon us.  As we approached the island of Houat, the wind died and a wall of cold fog moved in from the east, blending the horizon and the water into one seamless smoke screen and reducing our world to the size of a… well, a 10 meter Dehler 34, to be precise. 

Visibility < 100 meters

We reduced speed and strained our eyes, searching for any feature that might assure us that the world beyond the bow was still there.  Trying to keep a compass heading when there is no horizon to indicate motion became difficult and we began helplessly weaving back and forth.  In the heightened tension, I fully expected to glimpse the Mary Celeste come drifting dead ahead at any minute.   

We turned to our autopilot and navigation software for comfort.  Patrick told me to duck below and get the fog horn.  This is a small plastic trumpet used to signal one’s existence to other ships in such cases, and we dutifully gave a couple of blasts every few minutes.  A rather ridiculous sound resembling that of a cheap party horn served to reduce the tension, which, truth-be-told, is probably the horn’s most useful feature. 

The fog horn.

Our navigation program told us that the island was only ½ mile ahead and yet we still had no indication of the high rocks that should be rapidly approaching.  Our plan had been to head to a mooring area on the south side of the island to shelter us from the northern winds predicted for the evening.  But that route involves wiggling one’s way through a maze of rocks and sand bars.  We juggled our options.  We could change course and head towards the port of Houat where we could grab a mooring buoy at the entrance to the port.  But the buoys aren’t marked on the navigation software or charts, and neither are other boats.  The lack of visibility would make this option more dangerous than confronting the labyrinth of rocks that were at least clearly marked on the charts.  It was also a route we’d taken many times and we knew there was a large flat beach just after the first set of obstacles where we could always drop anchor if things got too hairy.

Our track, blindfolded.

With me down below calling out course changes and Patrick manning the auto-pilot controls, we made our way slowly along, passing first Er Yoc’h, the 23 meter high rock (never saw it), sliding around the only-slightly-submerged rocks Bonen ar Rade and the isolated danger buoy Men er Houteliguet, which we managed to vaguely identify at 150 meters.  We made a wide slow swing around the Begs (Tost, Creiz, Pell), not forgetting Er Gadoerec a Vez along the way, and lined up to pull up to our mooring ground.  As we did, the wind picked up and slowly pushed the fog to the south east, giving us reasonably good visibility as we set the anchor.  By the time the motor was cut, the sun was out, birds were zooming around merrily and fish were jumping (mullet, we were later told).  All of nature seemed to be saying “trick or treat !”.  We promptly treated ourselves to a bottle of rosé.

Treat after trick.

After this harrowing beginning, the next 3 days were, literally, smooth sailing.  We tried to squeeze in to the port of Hoedic to take on water (after last week’s gaffe with the watercow) but found 4 boats waiting for 5 places already occupied.  As the weather and wind were perfect, we decided to head over to the Quiberon peninsula to the port of Haliguen, not known for anything more enticing than a large visitors’ dock with water and electricity.  After tying up, we bumped into a friend from Vannes who was there alone in his 9 meter motor yacht.  He has sailed in this area for over 30 years, and we spent a lovely evening grilling him about favourite mooring spots in the bay and gulf. 

The next day, a moderate gale was predicted for the evening so we decided to go together to our friend’s favourite mooring spot in the gulf, which he assured us was sheltered from winds from any direction.  We had passed this idyllic spot before with other people’s boats, but didn’t dare take Spray this far up into the river because of the narrow and shallow channels all around.  Having a guide lead us through and up to deep-water mooring buoys was an opportunity not to be missed.  It was, quite simply, the calmest mooring location we have ever experienced in almost 10 years of sailing in this area.  And one of the most beautiful.  The wind was, so they say, blowing about 45 km/hr (25-30 mph), but our wind turbine didn’t even budge.  The water was oily smooth and we slept in complete silence.  

Our new favorite mooring spot in the gulf.

And of course I have absolutely no intention of telling anyone where it is.  Foggy memory, indeed. 

Read More

O La Vache !

The French phrase “O La Vache !” (literally “Oh, the cow”) is a popular expression of surprise similar to the English expressions “Oh my God” or “Holy Cow”.  During this week’s cruise, we applied the phrase liberally to another French cow:  the “Water Cow” (vache a eau) is what the French call the water tank on a boat.  We managed to have a wee accident with our Water Cow, eliciting not just “O La Vache !” but also another favourite and useful French phrase, “Putain !”  (…and if you haven’t yet seen the “Learn French in One Word” video that has gone viral on the internet, here’s the link: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSeaDQ6sPs0 )

Form 1: Function 0

The problem was one of form-vs-function and fault should properly be attributed to the faucet and not the water tank itself.  When we bought the boat, we were attracted to the double sinks and lovely faucet that the previous owners installed in the Caribbean (see Bricolage Update for tales of earlier difficulties with Caribbean plumbing).  We have now learned why such faucets are not standard on boats.  It’s too bloody easy for them to open accidentally.   

I took the wheel and Patrick went below to try to activate the AIS setting on our MaxSea software (…still not working).  While he was down there, I asked him to make a log entry, as one is supposed to do every hour or so at sea.  He claims this is where all our problems began.  Somehow in the process of climbing from the nav station to the table where the logbook was (boat heeled over about 15-20 degrees), his foul weather gear or life vest managed to snag the water faucet handle and open it.  He was not alerted to the sound of running water because, inside the hull of a boat charging through waves at 7 knots, this is not an unusual sound.

As the tank emptied into the sink, the boat became progressively lighter – by 90 kilograms ! –  on the port side.  As we were on a port tack, the boat heeled over further and the water pouring out of the faucet finally skipped over the sink altogether and started splashing directly on the floor.  This is when I noticed the unusual noise and saw that the faucet was open.  By this time, it was coughing up its last, spitting and sputtering a mixture of water and air from the tank.  It was at this point where the two phrases Putain and La Vache were liberally applied.

It all seems so simple in retrospect:  switch off the power to the water pump when underway.  The positive side of the story is that I was starting to feel guilty about our making such simple trips from the Gulf out to one of the islands and back, but after this latest incident, we decided that as long as we’re still learning important lessons like these, it’s not a bad idea to be close to home.

And we really can’t complain because our home sailing ground is truly beautiful.  (For other photos and stories of Hoedic, Houat and Belle Ile islands, see First Duet and Fall Season Opener with their associated trip photo links at the end).
   

Beautiful Hoedic.

We pulled into small Port Argol on Hoedic Island in the early afternoon on a Friday and were stupefied to find that we had the dock to ourselves. This is quite astonishing since Hoedic is (a) on a “migration” route for sailors navigating along the southern coast of Brittany, (b) there was a special weather bulletin announcing a gale for the next 24 hours, chasing sailors off the water and into the ports, and (c) Port Argol only has 5 visitors’ slips and fills up very quickly even in mid-week and off-season.        

Snuggled into Port Argol, Hoedic (Spray is the 2nd mast from the left).

The theme of this week’s outing was seafood.  Like the local seagulls, Patrick has learned that the Hoedic fishermen come back into port around 2pm, and has taken to poking around their boats when they arrive to see if they will sell him anything directly.   

What's for dinner ?

Last week it was a dorade (sea beam) and this week it was torteau (rock crabs).   

Rock crabs and pliers.

The next day, we went oyster hunting on a rocky plateau on the southeast side of Hoedic.  “Wild” oysters are difficult to open but they are wonderful to eat, even for someone like me who isn’t generally crazy about raw oysters.  We didn’t have the proper seafood tools one generally uses for opening and eating crabs and oysters, but with all the fix-it jobs we do on the boat, we were by no means defenceless and simply pulled out the pliers and screwdrivers to get the job done.

A lot of work to open but worth it...

We headed home in between squalls, which seems to be our stable weather pattern for the fall.  They hit, last for about 15-20 minutes, and then the sky becomes lighter for an hour or so before the next one hits.   

Our typical fall weather pattern: squall, blue patch, squall, repeat.

We’ve taken to using the smaller headsails quite a bit and we installed a bungee cord system to keep them in order on the deck when furled.  Now if I could just figure out how to get them dry in between squalls before stowing them below…

Yankee bungeed to the lines.

Read More

Fall Season Opener

It’s October.  We’ve finally been forced to accept the fact that we will not be making a major summer trip this year.  The “good weather windows” are getting narrower and we still have much to learn (and repair) on board Spray.  But each local outing offers important lessons and this week’s voyage was no exception.

Au Revoir Gwenva

We headed out on Saturday to say goodbye to Gwenva, an 8 meter Kelt sailboat that has carried us far and taught us much over the last 2 years. Guru Bob sold her to a couple of young sailors who dream of sailing her to Turkey next spring.  We’re sad to see her go, but glad she’s in the hands of owners who intend to keep her sailing.

Here’s the summary of the week and a link to photos below:

• Five days, three islands (Belle Ile, Houat, Hoedic).
• One day with dead calm; one day with a squall: gusts to 27 knots and zero visibility.
• One day of tourism around Le Palais while waiting for the winds to pick up.
• New speed record during the squall: 12.7 knots, obtained with 2 reefs in the main and the jib sheet (solent) up front.  Sorry – no picture-proof this time. (The squall wasn’t the best time to dash down to get my camera !)
• Realized that we need a mooring line of at least 30 meters to tie up comfortably to the stone way quay in Le Palais of Belle Ile.
• Confirmed that October is still too early to get a good spot in the harbour of Le Palais. (We were rafted up 4 deep in the outer harbour).  Note to self: need to re-inflate the fenders. 
• First outing with MaxSea Time Zero Navigation Software.  Mixed results.  Will take some time to get used to.
• Thousands and thousands of jellyfish along the shores of Belle Ile; probably Pelagia noctiluca (bad stings); probably pushed our way by the recent southwest winds.
• One Portuguese Man-o-War cruising by Spray one evening at anchor in Belle Ile.  Filed a sighting report with the Mer-et-Littoral “Operation Jellyfish” project.
• Climbed the mast while in port on the island of Hoedic (pronounced head-ick) to fix the anemometer (much better but not perfect).
• Reconfirmed that Hoedic can be just as beautiful as her more flashy sister, Houat, across the Sisters Passage.
• Sailed at slack tide (no current) to compare the speedo speed reading with the GPS reading.  Needs adjustment, but didn’t have the documentation with me.  Top of the to-do list.
• Tested the Wichard Gybe-Easy boom brake.  Needs refinement (our installation and technique), and probably a couple of dedicated cam mini-cleats.  

Read More

Whole Lotta Shakin Goin On

When Italian sailor Alex Carozzo cast off the lines in southern England to begin the first single-handed around-the-world yacht race in late October of 1968, he was so exhausted after months of overseeing the work to his boat that he anchored his 66 foot ketch, Gancia Americano, behind the Isle of Wight for a week in order to rest.  

Or so goes the Hal Roth version in The Longest Race.

I don’t believe a word of it.

We have now tried three times, unsuccessfully, to tuck Spray behind some lovely island to get some rest after months of effort, and it never works.  We can’t manage to get out of shake-down mode.

We recuperated our repaired Jib sheet after our last misadventure, and headed out this week for an appointment with a mechanic to replace the motor’s alternator and to try to figure out why the engine seems to get the burps from time to time (air in the fuel lines).  And then, we told ourselves, we would plunk down behind some lovely island and get some rest.

Stuck in the port of Crouesty

Our alternator, taken out 2 weeks ago for repairs, was still not ready, so we can look forward to another trip to the mechanic’s in another week.  For the burps, the mechanic shook his head, reassuring us that air in the system wasn’t normal, and then further comforted us by remarking that those sorts of leaks were difficult to find.  So we spent an hour blindly tightening various fittings and adding new metal collars to tighten up some connections even further.  A few test start-ups revealed no problems.  But it was too late to head off anywhere, so we stayed in port and Patrick took the opportunity to install a separate speaker for the VHF marine radio so that we can use the existing speakers for a stereo fm / CD / mp3 player.

The next morning as we were preparing to leave, the motor had great difficulty starting, and when it did, it belched out a rather startling amount of white smoke.  I suggested calling the mechanic again but Patrick declared everything to be fine (Grrrrr) and we headed off.  As luck would have it (mine, not Patrick’s) there was absolutely no wind and we had to motor all the way to the island of Houat.  At least we would be at anchor if we had engine trouble the next time.

Along the way, we tried, for the 6^th time, to reset the wind speed and direction indicator to no avail, but I did manage to fix the wanky auto-pilot, who insisted on heaving over ~10 degrees anytime you turned it on.  I manually reset the rudder angle indicator arm of the pilot and then reset the controller to 0 rudder angle compensation.  There is still some play in the helm that causes the pilot to work a lot, but we have to build up the courage to fix that one, since it involves replacing the ball joint underneath the steering column.  If it is anything like the last ball joint job, we’ll need help.

Anchored at the Big Beach, Houat.

We did enjoy a lovely afternoon along the “big beach” at Houat.  It’s difficult to take in the scene with a camera.  The picture below shows a Google Earth shot of the area integrated into our navigation software (OpenCPN), where the red boat shows Spray’s position, anchored off the beach.  Patrick managed a swim (armed with a wetsuit) and I lolled around in the cockpit with my Kindle.  And the motor started right up as we prepared to head home.

OpenCPN version of Houat (red boat position not-to-scale)

We had wind for the return trip to the Gulf and even put a reef in the main (more for practice than necessity).  As we entered the Gulf, we broke a new speed record, even with a reefed mainsail: 11 knots !  We entered at the fastest period of the tidal current with a tidal coefficient of 103, which is a measure of the amplitude of the tidal range (the scale is approximately 20 to 120).  We probably had about 5 knots of current in our favour at that point.  By the time I grabbed my camera, we had descended to 10.8 knots, but trust me… we hit 11 at one point.

New speed record !

Our next few weeks will be a continuation of mini-shake-down cruises until we get all the kinks out, or at least the major ones.  Alex Carozzo headed off without doing this and had to drop out of the around-the-world race near Portugal because of a bleeding peptic ulcer.  We’ll take our time…we’re not in a race.

Read More

First Duet

After 8 years of sailing together, last week was our first time sailing ALONE together.  We had anticipated some domestic clashes as we worked out our co-skippering routine of who-does-what-when and coped with the anxiety of being “alone”.  Friends had gleefully regaled us with stories of their first skippering experiences, and like them, I fully expected some tense, doubt-filled episodes.  In fact, there were very few clashes and surprisingly little stress, despite several rather spectacular misadventures.  

First dinner alone on boat.

We headed off for 6 days of easy cruising and rest after 3 months of non-stop work in the boatyard.  The summary of our week goes something like this:

• 5 nights, 4 moorings, 1 port stop, 2 islands.
• Tested the new windlass, the boom brake, and inflated the annex (dinghy) for the first time.
• Sailed wing-on-wing with the jib sheet poled out (briefly… didn’t help).
• Performed a “Hat Overboard” manoeuvre and recuperated the small dark object after 3 passes.
• Learned not to succumb to peer-pressure in choosing a mooring location.  (Blindly lining up with the others isn’t necessarily what’s right for your boat.)
• Learned that putting out an anchor buoy is a good idea to keep other boats from parking on top of your anchor, making it difficult to recuperate your anchor without a close encounter.
• Learned that 30 meters of chain is really not enough for many fine spots in Brittany.
• Reconfirmed that the island of Houat is breathtakingly beautiful.
• Learned that 90 liters of fresh water goes faster than you think it does.
• Tried to reset the wind direction and speed indicator to no avail.
• Tried to understand the rather peculiar nature of the auto-pilot that requires one to immediately add or subtract 10 degrees depending on your tack each time it engages.
• Mild panic attack (Patrick) when the Genoa parted from the furler and started dragging in the water while underway in a moderate swell and headwind.
• Recuperated and immobilized a flapping headsail on the deck.
• Put into practice our sailing school experience of installing the detachable forestay and a new headsail (a very nice 25 m² Solent... Jib Sheet) underway, also in a moderate swell and headwind (Maria).
• Climbed the mast (Patrick) to recuperate the headsail halyard that had remained firmly stuck to the top of the mast when the jib sheet ripped away from the shackle (in-port exercise).
• Motor failed to start (thankfully in port) and mechanic on neighbouring boat suggested purging the fuel line to see if there was air in the system.   
• Mild tantrum (Maria) when Patrick announced he was going to cut the fuel line to install a hand pump to make the job go faster.
• Joy (Patrick) and panic (Maria) when motor started up after 1 hour of priming and Patrick’s insistence that all was well and good to go.
• Learned that it isn’t enough to calculate tides and currents in order to get somewhere:  one should also calculate sunset if one wants to find a secluded mooring buoy in daylight.

Personally, I blame our misadventures on the rabbit pâté Patrick insisted on buying on Belle Ile.  Everything was going along fine until he brought it back to the boat.

When I got home, I had an email from my Dad asking what we had learned sailing alone that we hadn’t learned in all our years of sailing with others.  If one discounts my snarky, knee-jerk response that “sailing on your own boat is never a vacation”, Patrick and I would both agree that we learned to appreciate each other’s abilities in different domains.  He would not have attempted to put up a new headsail in the given conditions if I hadn’t taken the initiative, and I never would have dreamt of trying to fix the motor by myself.  Our “to do” list is now longer than when we left, and we are still desperately in need of a vacation, but we plan to head out again next week for several days … for a little rest.

Read More

Shake Down

Anytime a ship undergoes repairs or overhauls, and especially if there is a new crew aboard, it’s important to carry out a short cruise that will put the ship and her new crew through their paces in a realistic setting.  This is a Shakedown Cruise.

This week, we set off for a 3 day Shakedown Cruise in the Quiberon Bay to familiarize ourselves with Spray and her new gadgets, and to take her to the largest port in our area for repairs to the alternator.

The first task at hand, however, was to appease Neptune and the Wind Gods for our audacity of having changed the name of the boat.   

Requesting Neptune to accept a name change.

Appeasing the 4 winds.

Being a Franco-American couple, we also “cut the serpent” according to French tradition. 

Anesthetizing the serpent.

Also according to French tradition, we drank quite a lot of it ourselves !

Finally - some for us !

The Happy Couple and their newly baptized boat.

My original plan was to have a mix of hard work (day) and idyllic moorings (night).  The weather, however, had other ideas, and we were forced to duck into ports each night.  Doing this in the Quiberon Bay on the last week of August meant overcrowded and expensive port stops (Haliguen and Crouesty).  The positive aspect was that it gave us a good series of exercises for manoeuvring in close quarters, such as “parallel parking” between boats tied up 2-deep to the quay.

As the ports offered stability, electricity, and water, the work often continued well into the evenings.  Here is our list of tests / repairs carried out during Spray’s shake-down cruise:

• Tested out-board motor and tender.
• Installed the spray dodger.
• Installed removable forestay for head sails.
• Tuned rigging (shrouds, forestay, backstay, etc.).
• Marked reef lines and main sail halyard for reef marks.
• Verified the settings on the depth-sounder using a hand-held lead-line.   
• Tested basic sail handling with 2 crew (tack, jibe, reef the main, change the head sails, etc.).
• Adjusted position of the ratchet block for the Genoa furler to better control the furling line as it feeds into the drum (tended to get stuck sometimes when unfurling).
• Adjusted clutch handle on auto-pilot.
• Tested new windlass system.
• Verified there were no leaks in engine filters, pumps, and propeller stuffing box after recent repairs / modifications.
• Replaced alternator (the electrician did this).  We now have a loaner alternator and will have to go back after ours is repaired.
• Repaired tachometer.
• Tried valiantly to install radio fm / CD player / MP3 player.  Professional electrician declared that the radio was wired correctly and was most probably broken.  Return to supplier.
• Identified and documented all the electrical connections hiding behind the chart table control panel (Guru Bob bravely did this…).
• Tested navigation software (OpenCPN) with GPS and AIS systems.
• Tested “anchor watch” system of OpenCPN.
• Tested wifi antenna (most excellent) and managed to Skype home to Jacksonville, Florida using only wifi on the boat.  Pretty dang cool.
• Picked Guru Bob’s brains and 30+ years experienced to identify the best mooring spots along the coast and islands.

Just before heading back to our home mooring buoy, we finally managed a calm anchorage for lunch (and to test the windlass).  This shake-down cruise has given us confidence in the boat and her equipment and increased our frustration at not having the time or the appropriate weather to enjoy the many beautiful mooring sites around the islands that rim the Quiberon Bay. But next week, a high-pressure system is supposed to be sitting comfortably near, and we fully intend to head out for some island hopping !

 

Patchew at the helm.

More tranquil moorings in our near future.

Read More