Boat Journal

Chronicling a love affair with sailing

Moonlight Race

Each year, I try to stretch my sailing experiences a bit beyond what I did the year before. Last year, I decided to take on the Moonlight Race.

When I first started racing my boat, I tended to come in dead last. Part of it was inexperience, part of it was trying to avoid the other boats, afraid I’d get my damaged if I was too close. But that also meant that we were getting back to the docks after dark. So we learned to sail in the dark early on.

Besides, it’s never completely dark on the river. If there’s no stars or moon, there’s always the homes that line it, the Coleman bridge, and the power plant. Each, if not iluminating the area, does it make it possible to at least get our bearings. The only real obstacle to worry about are the shallows on both sides of river and the shallow areas at the mouth of the river. So, as long as my depth meter is working and visible, it should be no problem.

First Steps

The first step was to find the route and figure it out in the daytime. The route required us to start at R-22 on the York River, round York  Spit Light, then back to R-22.

York Spit Light

 

I’ve sailed near that area numerous times, when heading down to Hampton. But I couldn’t remember ever seeing that structure before. So I wanted to sail by it, both to get an idea of what the time would be, and to be able to identify it when I saw it.

 

Wendy and I headed out one morning, in search of the structure. I had 3 different sets of coordinates for it, so we only had a general idea of where it was. We headed out of the river, having the usual difficulty doing so.

The prevalent winds are such that the boat wants to go across the river, not up or down it. This we knew. That meant that one the hardest parts of the race would be getting out of the river itself. So this was one of the things that Wendy and I had to work on.

It was taking forever, as usual, to get out of the river. So we motored a bit to get out of the river, rather than waste our whole time in the river, rather than looking for the structure.

Once we got out of the river, we had mixed weather: no wind to too much. Well, not really too much. It wasn’t dangerous. But we did move quite quickly.

When we got close to where the light should be, we started looking for it. The spot was near the intersection of two different routes in the area. And, there was a third route nearby. Between them, there were a number of different markers with the same numbers on them. This threw us off. In addition, there were a number of different structures in the area, none of which looked like the picture we’d seen. Our time was growing short, so we headed back, having not found the structure.

First Moonlight Run

Our next practice session was a nighttime one. Dew, one of the more experienced sailors I know, and his girlfriend, Kelli, joined me, along with Wendy. We headed out about 1/2 an hour before sunset.

It was cold enough to be brisk, but not uncomfortable. And the wind was great.

With Dew’s help, we made it out of the river without motoring. In fact, the only problem we had heading out was getting too close to Tule Marsh, another shallow spot on the river.

I did learn, too, that iPads are not the best of navigation tools at night. Their light is too bright and leaves you partially blinded when you look away. Add to the fact that they are difficult to see in the middle of the day, too, and I don’t think that my iPad will become a navigation tool that I’ll rely on too much on my boat until I have one with a bimini to shade me.

We made it out to the York Spit light and I understood why Wendy and I had such a hard time finding it the first time. It had been destroyed in one of our storms and never rebuilt. So it was essentially just a platform with some sticks on it, not anything like the picture above.

On the way back, we had another problem: the house lights went out. I hadn’t charged the house batteries, and we had been running both lights and music the whole way. I didn’t worry about it, since I have two ‘house’ batteries. I use one at a time, so I assumed that the other was still charged. Nope. We switched over to it and it was dead as well.

Later, when I had charged them both, I found that one discharged as the other did. I still haven’t figured out whether the circuitry is bad or one of my batteries is dead. Another chore for this winter.

So, anyway, back to the story…

As I said, we had plenty of light surrounding us. We had picked a night near the full moon. Unfortunately, I hadn’t checked on the time of moonrise: the moon wasn’t rising until early, early morning, so we were sailing without the moon to guide us. But we had the GPS, we had the landmarks I mentioned, and we had a depth gauge that worked to keep us from bottoming out.

The only slight issue we had was the tug that couldn’t see us and didn’t answer our call on the radio (unlike Robert Redford in All is Lost, I do have a spare VHF radio in cases of emergency. Luckily we did stay out of his way and didn’t get run over.

We did make it home safely, quite late. And that was something else we were checking out – how long would it actually take us to make the run.

The Race Itself

Well, the race got cancelled. We got out there and there was only us, one other racer, and the committee boat. The rules require that there be at least 3 boats racing to make it official, so the race was cancelled.

Crew that night were Dew and Kelli. And the three of us decided that we wanted to do the race anyway.

The wind was strong. The waves we 4′-5′. It made for a rough ride heading out. And it ended up hurting Kelli’s back. She spent time in recovery afterwards. Luckily, the temperature was great and the company wonderful. Luckily, too, Dew was with us. I wouldn’t have made the run without him.

The waves were with us coming back, so we surfed home. And, as I said, the temperature was great. This time, I did made sure the house battery was charged so we were able to enjoy our music out and back.

Coming into the York River, we had the moon, we had the lights from the bridge and from the power plant. And the winds were calmer in the river. It made for one of those moments you want to savor forever.

Will we do it again? Heck, yes!

Motorsailing into the Docks

Today was a lovely day for a sail. It was completely overcast and breezy, which kept the temperature down. And the waves were low, which made me happy. I don’t mind wind; I hate fighting waves. When you have to go through waves, much of the energy that should be going into forward motion instead goes into getting through the waves. Lots of physics to that. Will have to look it up sometime.

So no waves.

The wind was coming from the west, so I decided to head out towards the bay. That way, I’d be going downwind heading out and upwind coming back, making it cooler in the hotter part of the day.

I left the docks about 8 am. The plan was to head out about 2-1/2 hours, then take about 1-1/2 hours to come back. That would have been great for upwind out and downwind back. But it doesn’t work too well for the reverse.

The problem in York River is that the prevailing winds tend to go move in such a way that, if you’re tacking to close haul, you’ll spend your entire time going from one side of the river to the other, making very little progress. I hadn’t thought of that when I was making my plan for the day.

Still, it should have been okay. I could just motor enough to get me in a good spot to tack into the channel leading to the marina.

Step back a moment here for the next part.

As those who have read my blog fairly regularly know, I have an electric engine. I have 4 100-amp 12-volt batteries that run it. Those batteries are sufficient for most of my needs, which is getting out so I can sail,  motoring back in when I get the sails down, and handling the occasional time when the wind completely dies. I have used that power to sail all the way from Yorktown to downtown Hampton, running out of juice just about 1/2 mile before we reached our slip.

I put the batteries on the recharger every time I leave the boat. The batteries, when quite low, will take about 17 hours to charge. I normally check the charge levels before I leave the slip. If all the lights are green, we’re good to go. If something is blinking, the batteries were probably really low and it’s taken longer than usual to charge. The blinking means the charger thinks there may be a problem, since it has taken too long. So I’ll unplug it, then restart it so that the recharger is reset. Next time, we’ll be good to go.

I had one occasion when the charger didn’t seem to charge the battery right. We had all sorts of problems then. Apparently, when one battery is low, it drains power from the others. So we actually had to be towed in by another boat to get to our slip that night. And, the next day, we couldn’t even start the engine. I discovered that time that one of the charge wires had come loose. Once I fixed that, everything charged and we were good to go.

So, this morning, I didn’t check the colors on the recharger before I took off. I did notice that the display for the engine only showed 85% charge, which was strange, since I hadn’t been sailing in a week. But I figured I’d check it out later.

Now, back to our lovely day of sailing.

I’m heading back. I’m in the river, I’m doing the usual back and forth and not wanting to be. So I go directly upwind, which I need to do to get to the marina channel, and I turn on the engine. The wind is pretty strong, so I’m not making alot of progress. But I am making some progress. And the display shows that I should have 4-1/2 hours left in the batteries. No problem. I’m definitely less than that away from where I want to be. So I run the engine long enough to get around the refinery piers, then turn the engine off and sail a bit more.

Strange. The indicator is now showing I only have about 30% left on the batteries. That doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t have gone down that quickly. When I turn it back on, it still shows that I can do another 2-1/2 hours, so I figure I’m ok.

I turn the engine off, tack over and back. I’m still not as close to the channel as I want to be. But then again, when I get frustrated, I tend to hurry the process. Rather than going long on a tack, to allow me to position myself better when I tack back, I tend to turn too early, requiring a few more back and forths.

I turn the engine back on. This time, I don’t seem to have alot of power, although I am moving forward. This was a symptom we saw when we ran out of juice heading to Hampton: the engine was turning the prop. But it was turning it slowly, and it didn’t matter how much we turned up the throttle; no more juice was going to get out.

I’m in the channel at this point. And I let out the jib, just about 25%. Luckily I was at a good angle to use it. Lucky, too, I didn’t hit bottom. I don’t think I ever would have gotten out if I had.

I back into my slip. It’s easier to run the power if I do. But I barely had enough juice to move the boat backwards. In fact, we touched the pier across from the slip before I could back it up.

When I plugged in the power, I hadn’t yet turned off the indicator. Now, instead of 28% battery, it showed 56%.

Hopefully, the cause is just an in-line fuse blown on the recharger line. Hopefully, it’s not that one of the batteries has gone bad!

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Follow Ups

Seems I’ve gotten a bit behind on the follow up to the products I’ve tried. So here’s a summary. Will try to figure out if I missed anything.

Judging by the amount of time it took for the knotmeter to stop working, it appears that the Lanocote only worked about 2 months. Mind you, I haven’t had anyone dive the boat, so I can’t say that the barnacles have taken over for sure. But symptoms do appear to point in that direction.

Kiwigrip has shown mixed results. It’s definitely still doing well as a non-skid. But the spot that people walk on the most, the spot right in front of the companionway, is pretty worn down. There is little of the texture left. In addition, I’m still in search of a good stain remover for it. Problem seems to be that the staining material gets down in the valleys of the texturizer and it’s hard to scrub it out.

The anti-mildew paint I purchased at Home Depot (will need to look it up) and used to paint the entire interior is still working like a charm. No mildewy smell at all on the boat!

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Barnacles!!

Argh!! The bane of my existence.

So, when I first bought the boat, I found that the previous owner had painted the prop with the same stuff used on the bottom. And it worked pretty good. The boat had hard paint on it and the hard paint was keeping the prop cleaned as well.

The first couple of years I had the boat, I used the same paint, and I did the same thing with the prop. But I am not a hard core racer, and I don’t play one on TV even. So the marina owner suggested that I might want to switch to ablative paint. That way, I could just slap it on and go, rather than going through all the prep process. So I did. He also suggested using PropSpeed to prevent barnacle growth on the prop. I did that as well.

PropSpeed is a pain in the patootie. It’s a two part application, and part two has to be applied immediately after applying part one. So it takes two people to do it.

So what happens when I pull the boat out in the fall? Well, the prop is full of barnacles. So much for PropSpeed. And at $250 (at the time – price is up another $50 now), that was a very expensive experiment. Mind you, I still have enough around for a second application. And there are still alot of people I’ve met who swear by it. So maybe I just didn’t get it on correctly.

But I moved onto the next suggestion: Barnacle Barrier. It’s much easier to apply. You just spray it on. But I pulled the boat and, again, the prop was filled with barnacles. Mind you, they were easier to scrape off from the prop. But the prop was still covered in Zinc, the main ingredient in the spray, and covered with barnacles as well.

Barnacled Prop

Again, there are plenty of people who swear by the stuff. But with this, I can’t see how I could have applied it wrong.

Lately, members of the CAL mailing list have been touting the use of Lanocote for preventing barnacle growth. The literature says that it only works for 6 montsh. But I could be happy with that. It can also be applied underwater. So, if it isn’t working as long or well as expected, whoever is diving the boat can apply some more.

I’ve applied this to the prop and to the knotmeter paddlewheel. The latter may not be a good test, since it’s plastic, not metal. But it can be used as my canary in the mine: if the knotmeter isn’t working, it means the paddlewheel is covered in barnacles. So we’ll see how well it works.

It does apply pretty easily. The directions say to heat the metal to apply easily. I heated the substance, which melted under a blowdryer pretty well. I could then paint it onto the prop. Since I really couldn’t heat the paddlewheel easily, this allowed me to apply the Lanocote to the paddlewheel fairly easily as well.

Applying Lanacote Applying Lanacote

I’ll try to update here to let everyone know how well it works.

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Dunking

So, I was moving the boat over by myself last Friday so it could be hauled out for painting and other seasonal maintenance. There was a bit of a breeze, but nothing heavy. I had a line ready at the bow and beside me in the cockpit. There was enough of a breeze that the bow came in first, rather than my sidling up to the dock, so I went forward, grabbed the line, jumped to the dock. I tied on the forward line. By then, the aft portion of the boat had started to slip away, so I pulled on the lifelines, got hold of a stanchion forward, and started trying to turn the boat so I could grab the aft line and tie it off. The anchor got in the way, so I was pushing the bout out a bit to get the anchor positioned better. Well, me and the wind pushed it a bit more than I hoped and I found myself in a precarious position.

Don’t you love it when things start moving slow motion? Well, in those precious seconds, I was able to hold onto the lifelines as the boat slipped away from the dock. Unfortunately, I don’t have alot of upper body strength, so I let go and plunged into the water.

Luckily, the water was a nice temperature. Also luckily, there were no jellyfish and I was only 30 or 40 feet from the boat ramp. So I swam over and let myself out. I walked to the boat lift and grabbed one of their boat hooks (which I should have done in the first place). I pulled the boat over and tied up the rear. I went home and took a shower.

That afternoon, I started to hurt. I apparently hit a rib pretty hard, because there’s a big bruise on my back, but it mostly hurts in the front. Nope, I never did get checked out by the doctor. And there was still the work to do that I was hauling the boat out for in the first place.

So mornings I worked for a few hours, until it started to hurt. Then I’d take a break, go home, get some more good drugs, then go back and work a few more hours. Luckily, Erik and Wendy gave me a hand so I could avoid alot of the heavier stuff.

Now it’s all done. The boat is back in the water. I can recuperate.

What did I do right? I knew the marina well enough to know the closest place to get out of the water.

What did I do wrong? I should have waited until I knew there were people around, in case something went wrong. I should have backed the boat up and pulled up so the rear was closest to the dock, the way the wind was blowing. I should have taken a boat hook off with me to pull the boat in to tie it off.

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