Kaimusailing

I'm planning to take the boat out and leave the birds to find another place. At the same time I think how we become very gripped on the land. The spot where we live becomes all important. Our routines become important. The birds have instincts that govern their behavior, so much so that, they can fly around just like their parents after about a month from breaking out of the egg. They will try to nest near where they were hatched and raise a brood. They fly around in flocks if necessary and act as one. I guess instinctive behavior is mostly beneficial, since only those who succeed can pass on their instincts. The odd bird who goes his own way might have to deal with age old problems that the flock has already solved. It is a dangerous course to go out and explore.
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I am sure the birds will be OK when we leave the dock. It is certainly unsafe to nest underneath Capn Andy's catamaran. Who is ruling us, is it the water vehicle, or the birds? We are staying in port because of the birds and leaving because of the birds. But we also have to answer the needs of the catamaran.
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We've got the anchor windlass operating again, and I've put an eyesplice into the severed line of the anchor I dredged up a short while ago. The lunch hook needed a thimble at the eye where the chain shackle attaches, so a thimble was forced in place, and seized with a stainless cable strap. I backed it up with a nylon one. There was 80 feet of of spare nylon anchor rode available, so effectively we had two lunch hooks. I need to make anchor snubbers, which in my copy of “The Rigger's Locker (or Apprentice)” are made by manipulating double braided nylon of sufficient strength.
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The main fuel tank was sealed with epoxy on top, just to make sure, and a plan to Dorade the fuel inlet ended up with our kitty litter pails being the correct size. These pails are square and watertight. I've used them as receptacles for loose lines on deck, also as garbage pails down below. They are perfect size for grocery bags. We use Fresh Step Crystals. The pails can also be used as a lightweight catchment for sponging out the bilges, or for scooping up seawater to wash down anchor mud. To make the Dorade for the fuel fill, I cut off the upper portion of the pail right at a flange just below where the handle attaches. This was positioned and trimmed as needed on top of the fuel tank. A generous bead of silicone was laid down along a marked line to match the lower edge of the Dorade. The pail top was pushed down into position and allowed to cure.
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The staysail sheet was redone. Originally it was two sheets, one for each tack. At some point I took advice to use one line across the boat through the two turning blocks to lead to the sail from either side. What ended up was still two sheets, one normal length, and the other way long. Longer than two sheets in fact. I removed the remaining single sheet and rove the double sheet backwards through the opposite sheet stopper, around the turning block, and through the lead block all the way across to the other side. Now each end of the line can bend onto the sail and there will be only a small length of excess between the winches on each hull.
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A calamity ensued during the afternoon when winds were building up to 25 knots and blasting down the inlet from the West. Kaptain Kris had anchored his trawler upwind of the docks when he returned from a haul out and now it was dragging down on us. I called him he came right away and went aboard the trawler. He had to move it without getting anchor lines wrapped on the shafts, retrieve his anchors, and re-anchor in the high winds. It all went well, no damage, no jammed up anchor lines. I thought of letting him take my slip and Kaimu would then anchor, but not a wise move with the high winds.
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The next day was easy with preparations for leaving the dock. Tools were gathered up. The dinghy was launched and the drain spigot on the fuel tank was closed after allowing drainage for a full day. A quick row up the inlet was relaxing. A blue heron was stalking fish near shore. The swallows were flying around, some up into the trees, others taking a perch at the masthead, crying out a warning to those below. The juveniles would sit on one of the genoa sheets and peer at me. Hey, those are my lines you are perched on, looking at me like that.
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The windlass worked great and soon Kaimu was at anchor. Soon the formation of flying swallows we zooming around again. The next day we set sail to find a spot far enough away to lose the swallows and clean their mud nests off the crossbeams under the crossdeck.
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Captain Phil called. He was now looking to move his little sloop from its mooring near Annapolis to a friend's dock on Kent Island, the other side of the bay. This was south of us about 10 miles. I was underway and thought I would visit Kent Island, maybe Kent Narrows. The picture is later in the day out on the bay.