On the Irwin 42 some years ago, I had many times wished for a light air sail, such as a drifter -- especially in the light winds of the Bay in late summer. Ultimately, there never was such a sail for the Irwin; however, one just the right size for Wings came on the market and we snatched it up.
The drifter was nearly brand-new, couldn't of been used more than two or three times, which makes it one of the newest additions to our little boat. The really special thing was that the almost-new sail only cost a couple hundred bucks; well below what I could buy a new drifter for. As it turned out however, we didn't use it for some months after we purchased it. Then near late summer we had one of those sunny, lazy days where the Potomac barely rippled, and perhaps there was somewhere between 2-5 kts of wind -- and that was in a gust.
Deanna and I puttered out of our slip and into the Potomac, happily shutting off the little auxiliary as we hoisted the sails. There really wasn't enough wind to do justice to the heavier fabric of the mainsail, but the red and black nylon of the "new" drifter filled nicely and began to pull Wings just fast enough that we could see our wake -- if we hung over the stern and look for the bubbles. It was a warm, truly lazy day and we didn't go far. We simply sailed a mile or two across toward the Maryland shore, did some tacking about just to say we did, and then slowly sailed back, consuming the entire afternoon in the process.
Although nobody will ever confuse Wings with a race boat, we did find that she tacks quite nicely even in very soft breezes. Okay, I admit we back-winded the drifter once or twice to help the bow over. But for the most part, the little Bristol's heavy displacement stores good inertia for the tacking maneuver -- so long as the tiller is handled with a bit of finesse.
I'm not sure why we waited so long to get one of these handy, light air sails; however, it is clear that for sailing around the middle Atlantic it is quite valuable. One thing I'll have to put on our shopping list is some lighter line for the drifter's sheets, because the 3/8" jib sheets weighed just a tad too much for such light air and distorted the lighter nylon a bit. All in all, it was a wonderful sunny sail... a success.
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Deanna and I had pretty much decided that where Wings is concerned we would work for a little bit and then try to sail little bit as time permitted. That, of course, meant that, on occasion, our sailing or a project could get in the way of each other, or, we'd simply be sailing Wings with half-finished projects -- this has been the case almost all the time.
Almost from the first we decided the original ports wouls have to go -- sooner or later.... We hoped to replace the fixed ports with opening ports. The old Plexiglas on the original fixed ports was in a bad way anyway, so something had to be done, plus in the warmer mid-Atlantic ventilation is important. We shopped and shopped and then discovered that Beckson has an overstock store were we could order brand-new opening ports at one third to one half retail cost. We ordered enough Rain-Drain ports to do the entire boat, although we have yet to finish installation.
The old upholstery was nearly threadbare, not to mention after being bottled up with wasps and swampy smelling saltwater, the cloth had an unpleasing odor to it. Deanna had a friend back in North Dakota who ran a small upholstery business. Deanna stripped off the old cloth and shipped it along with new fabric(you guessed it, purchased from a marine overstock store...) to her friend up north. In the meantime we did our best to air out the foam and clean them up generally. About a month and a half later the new upholstery arrived -- with a handy feature that wasn't on the originals, the old troublesome zippers were replaced with Velcro. And, we had enough of the rich, blue fabric to have our kitchen chairs redone as well.
In the meantime we both attended to smaller projects of our own. I happened onto an end-run of stainless steel anchor chain, one size oversized, and quickly added the 50 or so feet to the new anchor line. The chain was almost too beautiful to put in the anchor locker, but the minimal price made it even more so.
Deanna has long been a woodworker and when she has time thoroughly enjoys her shop projects. Indeed, up in North Dakota she rehabed her own house almost by herself, and has a nearby wood-shop in a comfortable sized building that has the distinction of having once a Pony Express waystation (a century ago). She moved several of her heavier bench-tools, saws and routers from North Dakota to Virginia and has begun revamping a number of the wood structures. She made new oak braces for the outboard mount that strengthens the attachment in the motor well. She also stripped much of the old paint from the interior of the cabin and then began to tackle other odds and ends. Removing the old combings from the cockpit, Deanna brought them back to her shop to use as patterns to make new ones. The old wood, although not totally beyond repair cosmetically, was well past its prime structurally.
When we visited the Annapolis boat show in the fall, we chatted with other hobbyists about alternative woods available as replacements for the expensive and more traditional yachting woods such as teak and Philippine mahogany. Birch, Poplar and Ash seemed to be widely used in some vessels and we went looking for prime boards with minimal checks, grain anomalies or structural imperfections. Even these were not cheap, but they were reasonably readily available and in the meantime Deanna has been making replacement combings, patiently matching the beveling, routing and cutouts of the orginals.
So those are our sailing projects -- a little work, a little armchair sailing, a little more work, some real sailing and then back to work again. Sometimes progress on Angels Wings has seemed almost glacial, but it keeps moving a little here and little there...
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Just after Memorial Day weekend our little boat went back in the water and she sure did look beautiful floating in her slip. Neither the decks nor the cabin was yet done; however, the black hull, red boot stripe and the new yellowish gold lettering seemed to compensate nicely for the moment.
The little motor that had performed so faithfully the year before failed to start and despite all sorts of cajoling, wheedling and the few words in distressed English, it showed no signs of life. Deanna's grandchildren were getting ready to return home and we wanted to go sailing at least once before they left, so I dashed around to find a professional mechanic.
The marina had several mechanics employed there on one job or another -- it was spring, and they were understandably very busy getting many boats ready for the summer boating season. One mechanic, however, volunteered to take our little eight-horsepower auxiliary home, with a note of confidence that he would have it back in a day or two.
That week came and went in there was no motor, but the mechanic said he was sure he could fix it for about $200 because he knew what it was. A week later there still was no motor and the grandchildren returned home without ever getting to sail. Eventually the 4th of July came and went, and still no motor. Upon inquiry, it seems the mechanic was waiting to purchase a book that would tell him the proper resistance for the coils. Two weeks later we were still awaiting the arrival of magic book -- indeed that saga repeated itself numerous times into the late July and early August.
In late July I had to take a two-week business trip; however, Deanna returned home from seeing her family just before I left. I related to her the story about our outboard and she promised to look into it. Sure enough, when she approached mechanic at the marina, he reassured her that he was simply waiting to receive the instruction manual that should arrive ant day now and would give him the proper electrical resistance for the coils.
Thankfully, Deanna is not as paralyzed by the world as I can be, and about two weeks before Labor Day she asked (more like, insisted) the mechanic to bring our motor back. She loaded it into the pickup truck and took it around to another mechanic in the village she had met previously. Surprise, surprise: within three or four days the motor was back from the second mechanic and purring happily -- total cost, $80. We don't know if the first mechanic ever got his magic book, but we do know which mechanic we'll use next time.
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As soon as the weather became more hospitable, we began to get earnest about Angels Wings hull. Essentially we had to do everything from the deck down while she was still out of the water -- and once again, we appreciated her diminutive size. Deanna's grandchildren finished out their spring school-term with us and figured greatly into our success. Rory, in particular, turned out to be quite a little bulldog with an orbital sander. Once he got the knack of it, Rory could sand the entire topsides, from waterline to deck, in about 2 1/2 to three hours -- at which point he would award himself a one-hour "coffee break" to build an intricate, fantasy condo on the nearby beach, or to ward off marauding pirates.
The minor blisters filled in easily with the usual mixture of epoxy and filler; however, getting the hull reasonably fair was quite another matter. It took many hours, and no shortage of patience to grind down the hardened skeletal remains of what must have been a complete ecosystem. Below the waterline we used many 80-grit and 60-grit discs before the chore was complete. After that, began the usual filling, sanding and refairing, which went much faster.
We discovered a softball sized delamination near the base of the keel just forward of the rudder and ground that out entirely. Fitting some sacrificial plywood behind the hole, we then use the usual method of epoxy, structural filler and ultimately about 10 layers of glass-cloth to bring it out fair again. The biggest challenge with the delamination turned out to be getting days when the temperature would stay above 50° so they epoxy would kick off properly.
Painting day came upon us unexpectedly -- we'd simply run out of fairing projects, and couldn't come up with a good excuse not to proceed with the Brightside. We'd read that not everyone has great results with this modern paint; however, for us it has worked reasonably well so far. For the paint, Rory and I worked together. We used a fine nap roller and then Rory would come immediately behind and gently lay down the Brightside with a brush. We sanded with 220-grit and 400-grit paper between coats, and although it wouldn't pass a professional test, it passed our 10-foot test with ease -- i.e. looked okay from 10 feet away.
We enlisted more skilled hands to finish up the red boot stripe, when Deanna came down again and began to put the finishing touches on. I'm fairly content working with minor fiberglass repairs and the rough and ready stuff; however, Deanna has had her own woodcraft shop for many years and is more skilled and patient finishing a project so that it looks complete. In the meantime I slopped on the bottom paint.
The finishing touch, sort of a present to all of us, was to put on the state registry numbers and of course Angels Wings name. I remembered my lack of skill in putting on model car decals in my youth, I half a century before, but this went reasonably well. The directions were right on the money and in about two hours we had aligned, taped and finally permanently mounted the yellowish gold lettering with the occasional red shadow -- to complement the red boot stripe. At which point, we took a break to take some pictures and admire the progress of our little fiberglass lady.
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Despite hopeful sounding plans to the contrary, the fall of 2007 seemed to offer few opportunities for prolonged further testing of Angels Wings. We got our little lady into her marina slip and continued to clean, now that she was only a 30 minute bicycle ride away. However, between business travel and family responsibilities opportunities to sail were minimal.
Early in November, we had Wings hauled -- we had no illusions about what we'd see when she came out of the water. As soon as she was up in straps, the crew attacked the hull with spades and hoes to scrape the first layer of barnacles and other crud off the bottom. It was quite a sight and we could see immediately that our work was cut out for us.
We went over the hull from bow to stern, making note of what we saw. There was a sizable gouge just below the water line in the bow as well as numerous scrapes along the hull. We noted about a dozen small blisters, one or two more sizable ones and an area or two that sounded like delamination needed to be investigated.
Our major project for November was simply to grind out the most obvious blisters and gouges to allow them to drain and dry. Beyond that we used small grinding wheels with heavy, 60-grit emery cloth to begin to knock the worst of the fouling off -- many years without bottom paint had left the remains of many skeletons firmly attached to the fiberglass. As the weather cooled progress slowed and we contented ourselves with small projects, removing the sails and minor housekeeping chores -- vowing to return just as soon as the weather warmed enough for us to begin to mix epoxy.
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"Do you hear a motor running," Deanna asked in a singsong rhythm as she narrated for her video camera. Indeed, there was no motor running. After nearly two months of work, some hurried preparations and not a few makeshift repairs, we were finally under sail on the Chesapeake Bay.
We had gotten up about 3 a.m. that morning, driven to the moorage, rowed out to the boat a couple of times with supplies and were now underway. The little GPS was silently tracking our course from waypoint to waypoint -- note to self; why did I not get one of these sooner. By about 10:30 in the morning we had cleared Annapolis and had picked up the hoped-for wind out of the northeast. The wind was blowing about 8 to 12 kn, with the occasional white ruffles on the waves and we were moving along acceptably.
The first several hours were almost perfect and even with the considerable growth on the bottom, the little Bristol tracked along at 4-5 kn according to the GPS. That was a whole knot faster than she had done with the outboard running, so I was quite pleased -- indeed, although I didn't know how much affect the tide had, I figured we were still making noticeably better time than my pessimistic projections. By early afternoon we settled in; Deanna made a few sandwiches, took some pictures and we settled back in the cockpit enjoying the passing of other boats and getting used to the pleasant rhythm of ours.
The wind held steady from the northeast and although we had to gybe once to get back on our course, that was the extent of our afternoon work as the sun played peek-a-boo in the partly cloudy skies. The recreational sailing traffic waned noticeably a few hours south of Annapolis and soon we were nearly by ourselves on the Bay -- entertained by the occasional passing of ship on its way to Baltimore.
The wind picked up a little bit just before sunset, as it often does. However, by nine o'clock in the evening it seemed to be back to a comfortable 10 to 12 kn and I didn't give it any more thought as we sailed more or less downwind on a very broad reach. Around dark Deanna retired to the quarter berth and I was pleased to see that she was able to fall asleep fairly quickly -- she's normally a light sleeper and I was concerned that she might not be able to sleep while we were sailing. We had originally discussed changing watch at around midnight; however, when that time rolled around I was enjoying the passing lights of ships and had sort of drifted into a comfortable half-stupor listening to the water passing the hull.
Over the years I have often enjoyed riding extended distances on a motorcycle, many hours at a time -- just me and the chrome steed. And now I relished a similar serene feeling sailing down the Bay, just layed back in the cockpit; hour after hour. Even though the commercial shipping traffic picked up noticeably, it was never onerous and it was pleasant just sharing the Bay with all those big guys. I think we only saw one or two other sailboats during the night; however, even though we couldn't see the shore except for occasional lights, we were not alone.
Some where around 2:30 in the morning we were approaching the mouth of the Potomac River, were our course turned towards the northwest. And as I became a little more alert anticipating the turn I abruptly became aware that I could hear the wind beginning to howl in the rigging. That rather jolted me, because in other sailboats I've noticed I don't usually hear the wind until about 20 kn or so, and now it was quite clear -- I don't know why I hadn't noticed an earlier except that I was in that never, never land that comes from lackadaisically staring at the water too long, with too little sleep - by then it was near to 4:00 and I had been up for 24 hours or so...
To make a long story short, I aroused Deanna and asked her to put on her life jacket and to, please, bring me mine as well. The steering was becoming heavy and I was becoming increasingly awake, and even though I couldn't see particularly well, in the stern light I can see that the waves were beginning to break about deck high as they passed under us from stern to bow. Partially this was from a passing front that, as we later discovered, had winds about double what the weatherman had predicted and partly it was because we were in that area of the Bay where the Potomac and the Chesapeake currents mix -- causing a rather confused wave patterns if the tide in the wind don't agree with each other. This was all complicated by the fact that I should have reefed some time before, but sailing downwind I had been inattentive and complacent, and was now carrying unreefed main and working jib
We weren't in a major emergency, but still, with my jumbled thinking, the little Bristol slewing this way and that with the passing waves, and it was more thrilling than I had planned. We paused a moment to ask the Creator of all things for His steadying hand, and then began to discuss how best to gybe in the darkness so we could enter the Potomac. The wind had been coming over the port quarter and just about the time we were discussing how to go about the gybe in that wind, a wave caught me inattentive (again) and then what I had feared happened -- an accidental gybe.
The boom swished over our heads, thankfully missing everything, and banging to a stop with that annoyed protest a spar makes when a sheet suddenly interrupts its flight. I held my breath, fully expecting the rig to be damaged, or one of the elderly sails to burst, or worse and as the Bristol slewed around, she presented her starboard beam to the wind the leeward deck went solidly in the water -- and then, for what seemed like an eternity, our little Bristol just lay there as we listened to all the stuff in the cabin noisily rearranging itself.
Deanna was probably far calmer than I felt right then and when I asked her to let the sheets run, she flipped the jib sheet off the starboard winch and moved to the other side of the cockpit ready to wind it in as I let the mainsheet run. It probably only took less than fifteen seconds or so, but in the dark it felt much longer. However, with the wind spilling from the sails those 3000 pounds of ballast eventually inched our little boat back upright -- we began to tighten the sheets once again and the little Bristol shook it off and sailed right on, as if she did this every night about that time. We were in the Potomac and as we later discovered beating into a stiff 20-25 kn wind.
About 14 hours later, almost 24 hours quicker than my projections, we motored into our marina at Colonial Beach in the dying afternoon breeze. At that point we decided the appropriate name for our trusty boat was, Angels Wings. Despite a ham-fisted skipper with too little sleep, she had comported herself like the little lady she was - she stayed amazingly comfortable for her size, no sails blew out despite their age and the rigging held it all together. We later discovered that some time during the evening the reefing-hook had unbolted itself from the boom and, indeed, the mainsail clew was held on only by the tension of the nutless bolt. As it turned out, reefing may have been very difficult even if the skipper had been paying attention. Our little Bristol had more than earned her name and we were reassured that even though she still needed much work, and her distracted skipper had tested her more than we'd intended, Angels Wings was every bit the tiny ship we'd hoped.
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