There is something in the American Contract that commands that on Memorial Day weekend we must eat a burger or something previously alive, take in a sporting event of some sort and do something out of doors with the family, while we pause to remember all those who made it possible - it is in the agreement, trust me I've seen it.
Saturday night the grandson and I took in the sprint car race (checking off the sporting event requirement) , so bright and (not so) early on Sunday we checked the tides, winds and forecast... yep tide was okay, we'd be back before low-tide prevented us from getting back into our slip; winds were supposed to be 8-10 kts, super... great sailing although the forecast said there was a possibility of drizzle here and there... no biggie, it is warm... so pack the sodas, chips, snacks and sandwich making stuff and throw an extra gallon of gas in the kicker's nearly empty tank, and we're off...
15:45 -- Three or four hours of more or less downwind sailing found us well out of sight of the village, at which point we decided to start our beat home - as we said at the time, expecting some smashin' and bashin' as we wended our way back through the occasional whitecaps we'd been softly sliding over... a few passing raindrops were of no great threat, so we did our 180, avoiding three tugs wrestling with a couple of coal barges...
An hour later we had made almost no progress... the wind had died, dead calm... okay, crank the kicker go find some wind... save gas we don't have much - oops no running lights either other than battery operated flashlights... better hurry, but still have three hours until sundown...
18:15 - Whew... wisp of a breeze... motorsailing... breeze adds about half a knot, throttle back to save our meager gas... Rory suggests the drifter... super, that seems to get us another quarter knot or so... Deanna on the tiller as we nurse Wings along, playing with the wind and trying to use minimal throttle...
19:45 -- Wind died again -- okay we'll cut the corner around the village point, maybe save thirty minutes as dusk draws... Deanna asks how much water is under us because we're well to the side of our normal track... "Oh, about six inches to a foot..." I shrug with false confidence... within the minute we crunch to a halt... aground... oops.
Getting dark, aground... we try all the usual - weight forward, weight to the side, crawl out on the boom, use precious gas gunning the kicker harder - it labors dutifully making frothy bubbles in the water, but Wings just laughs at us... okay, last resort... Deanna suggests one of us gets off and push... skipper is the biggest lardbutt aboard, may as well be him... one lardbutt over the side, Wings chuckles quietly and then floats free... push to deeper water... now to get back aboard in the dark... no working ladder... after several attempts it clear that ol' lardbutt is about thirty too many years out of shape to scale the side - getting seriously dark now, but desperation is the mother of invention... handy mooring line makes for an expedient, if sloppy, Swiss-seat, hook to the jib halyard, Deanna and Rory hoist ol' lardbutt aboard... whew... totally dark now... three miles to go...
22:00 -- Putted home slowly, navigating the old-fashion way by chart and flashlight -- without further fanfare, should have been outa gas long before, almost five hours of motorsailing on a gallon and a half - the Lord supplies... yep ran aground at the slip... no matter, thirty minutes later Wings floats free in the tide, a little before midnight we walk her safely back in her slip looking no worse for her Memorial Day, and then dash to the village McDonalds just before the drive-in window closed (to satisfy the burger requirement). So much for day-sailing... gas? It took almost 3.7 gallons to fill the 3.5 gallon tank, go figure... Angels Wings has re-verified her name, despite seriously ham-fisted skippering...
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What to do when week after week of bleak, chilly and soggy weather unexpectedly gives way to three or four beautiful days of almost too-bright sun, unseasonably 80-90 degree temperatures and just enough wind to whisper, "drifter..." Go day-sailing, of course... More to the point was to give Deanna's long-suffering grandson, Rory, a little taste of what his year and a half worth of assistance made possible.
Rory was appointed Skipper-for-a-Day once we cleared the marina; however, once in the Potomac it still took an hour or so to work free of the lee of the shore. It was an exercise in patience weaving in and out of dozens of crab pot floats, but avoiding them was not an altogether unwelcome means of working out some of the kinks (both boat and crew) accumulated over the winter.
The usual skipper, an increasing rotund and still lame gallute following a winter motorcycle mishap, filled in where he could, but Rory and Deanna shepherded Wings back and forth until we got enough room to begin to pick up a breeze... then it was Katy Bar the Door... the GPS zoomed right up to 1.5 knots for awhile, then teased us with blistering 2.0 knots and then fell back as the wafts disappeared again- eventually, however, Rory coaxed Wings up to nearly 4.0 knots during a fleeting interval of more obliging wind... all in all a wonderful day of modest sun-burn, some low key deck scrubbing and just enjoying the water and each others company...
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Unlike the last few years, global-warming has yet to rear its head in the Northern Neck of Virginia this year. The lagoons and estuaries of the mid-Potomac have been partially iced for some weeks and the marina around Angels Wings is no exception. Previously, winter sailing was often possible, but this year a small icebreaker would be needed to get a reliable channel to the river most days. So, we sit and try to putter on other projects.
Deanna, ever the perfectionist, has become dismayed with the dissimilarity between the various tones of the woods she's working with for our little chunk's cockpit - to me, they look great, but Deanna wants even nature's random splendor to match as much as possible. I figure by the time we replace the combings, handrails, drop-boards and other wood, we'll have multiple tones and I find that pleasant, but to the thorough craftsman it must be disconcerting.
The New Year was ushered in as I begin a frustrating recovery after a pre-dawn encounter between my motorcycle and one of the many deer here about. The rider will mend after a few months and the deer seemed to escape essentially unscathed, but the bike was trashed and until the docs get this hunk of steel out of the shoulder, setting off metal detectors is a way of life - not to mention typing essentially one-handed... shop work in a sling is tedious at best, and each step must be planned in advance so to be accomplished wrong-handed. Happily Rory, the affable and lively grandson who was such a dependable associate when painting the hull, is back with us and readily lends a willing and enthusiastic hand. A year later his proficiency and talents have increased exponentially and any sunny day provokes pleas to go sailing. We're gunna get there...
A small victory was the installation of a modest charting/GPS package on the laptop. Largely, the skipper is techno-gizmo averse, but this seemed simple enough and after the success with the handheld GPS a couple of years back, seemed like a logical step. The SeaClear installation went without hiccup, always encouraging, and preliminary tests indicate this should be a pleasurable asset for regional navigation at least. It uses NOAA digital charts that can zoom to scary detail and the little hockey-puck GPS antenna is unobtrusive. So, once the basic electrical system is rewired this spring, we are hopeful this will be a nice gadget for sneaking up the many rivulets and creeks on the Bay and river...
We're learning patience - it's all in the nature of messing about with small boats I suspect...
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Whether this season finds you celebrating the Eternal Creator of Life, High Holy Days or simply enjoying holiday festivities with family and friends, we wish you every peace and all the very best in the year ahead.
• Deanna, Larry & Buckshot
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Going well into a our second year with Angles Wings, we probably haven't learned anything that other microcruiser families don't already know. But as general observation, we've noticed that what one gains in reduced maintenance, smaller outlay and ease of handling must be given-up to some degree in how much space there is to move around, modest carrying capacity and the intangibles of how it "presents" at the dock.
A few things we have found awkward concerning our little Bristol, which is truly cozy with two aboard; however, 3-4 must be family or exceptionally good friends.
• Any "stuff" must be stowed properly when not in use, or Wings looks like a trash-dump quickly.
• Dark colors seem to close in things.
• Good ventilation is hugely important in such closed space.
• One must be careful how much is brought aboard for a weekend - storage is critical.
• Wings smallish (slightly less than 6-foot) cockpit is really only comfortable for 2-3.
• Deck space is modest, although fairly stable underfoot - but the lee deck tricky in a fresh breeze.
• We have very limited ability to run today's many technogadgets - everything runs on batteries for now.
• Hard to work on a small rehab projects without affecting the entire cabin -- better to take them off the boat.
• Trash must be bagged and out of sight immediately.
Some of the many pluses:
• Property taxes are payable out of pocket change.
• Small successful refurbishments can lift our spirits exponentially.
• With thought, it is fine to substitute locally available wood for teak and mahogany.
• Heavy D/L ratios don't accelerate quickly, but the high inertia makes tacking easy.
• Painting the hull takes only a few enjoyable hours work per coat.
• The whole boat costs less than the working jib on many bigger vessels.
• Standing headroom is possible for those 6' or under.
• Will sail over the same horizons and any other boat
• 2nd-hand accessories fit right in and leave plenty of $$$ left over.
• For her size, Wings motion is very dignified and quite composed.
• Slack bilges pound very little even beating into 20kt winds -- occassional splash, but no banging.
• Fifty percent ballast ratio stands up well and seldom heels much over 20-25 deg.
• Running aground holds minimal terror.
• Some projects are bigger than others, but very little on Wings is complicated.
• Everyone is our friend - who won't chat with folks on the little black boat.
• Handholds are never far away.
Whether one feels the dividing line between microcruisers and normal boats is 15 feet or 45 feet, vessels above or below the line will have certain dissimilar capabilities - other factors being equal. Nonetheless, both have their advantages, and properly equipped can be fun and seaworthy.
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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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