Confessions of a Disabled Sailor

The world pandemic has found me under my own forced convalescence. As some of you know, I was near fatally injured in a car accident forty years ago. Prosthetics and orthotics have made it possible for me to live a full, eventful life regardless, some of which we've all shared here in these pages for almost thirteen years(!).

Two years ago I suffered a stoke, which impaired my balance enough that eventually a dramatic fall last October began an extended period of convalescence, from then until now. Growing old is not for the faint of heart.

But, determined to carry on, I fully intend to come out the other side stronger, despite being the target age of this debilitating world disease. With that in mind, I'd like to share with you some projects underway in the Doryman boatyard.

The last post found Doryman floundering under a capsize in the worthy faering, Saga. Although she saw service through the rest of last summer, she'd been abused and misused, much the same as her skipper. Some parts and pieces were lost in the capsize and her finishes suffered. Though no lasting damage resulted, she is in need of love, which comes apace. I love this little boat. We've been through a lot together, most of which was pure joy. She's a challenge to sail, the older I get, but I'm not ready to give up yet, we have more time to share.

Here's a shot of a debilitated Doryman at the helm, after the capsize last summer. That timid posture is the result of doing more than I should with a recent spinal injury from the fall I mentioned earlier. Hurts my back just to look at it.

 Ouch.

Right now, there are no restrictions on sailing from the marina I live in so the plan is to launch Saga by May Day, in the Puget Sound, Salish Sea.

Travel is pretty restricted here, since the Canadian border to the north is closed to boaters and most marinas are closed. But for me it's all one ocean, as my friend Webb is wont to point out from time to time.

Restrictions imply impermanence, which brings us to some exciting news;

 Chebacco. 

Back in 2009 I had the pleasure of a cruise in Chuck's self-built Chebacco Full Gallop. Nice boat.

About that time, I came upon the same design, but with lapstake planking. Unfortunately the price was too steep for me, which was a shame, since I'd come to love the boat by then.

Fast forward to last month. The same boat is still for sale. Well, no longer, because my friend, Doug and I went and picked it up. 

The Chebacco is a Phil Bolger design in a minimalist shallow water cruiser. Repairs are underway as we speak. When the Canadian border opens up, I know where I'm going. 

Disabilities be damned.

More anon...

Capsize

I capsized last week for the first time. Ever. 

Those who have been here for a while will recognize the eighteen foot long Saga, a design based on the Norwegian faering. She has taken me hundreds of nautical miles and though she's a vulnerable open vessel, I have complete confidence in her.

We had some lively seas that day and had weathered them fine for several hours. The journey nearly at an end, we found ourselves in a protected bight with no breeze, sitting very still.

A surprise gust of wind hit and before I could release the mainsheet, water was cascading over the coaming . I forgot how fluky the South Puget Sound winds can be. A fellow named Dave up on the bank heard me from where he was working in his garage and came out in his skiff. (I'd lost both cell phone and VHF radio, was cursing my predicament and yelling for help. I have very healthy lungs.).

In the meantime, a Coast Guard helicopter, two fire departments, a local first-responder group on jet skis and a fire-boat showed up. I was in the water about an hour and had hypothermia.

When Dave showed up, I was focused solely on getting Saga righted, and bless him, against his better judgment, tried to help. We did get the boat upright but she was awash and we had to abandon her to get me to shore. He was shocked that I could pull myself up on his swim platform, but that's what adrenaline is for.

A fire department first aid truck group brought my body temperature back up, blood pressure down, so there was no trip to the hospital. The fire-boat brought Saga into Boston Harbor and pumped her out. Lost some stuff, but got my boat back. And lived to tell the story.

I am in debt to a small army of highly trained people and one savvy local mariner. That's what this epistle is about. A big shout-out to all those who protect us against ourselves.

Sucia Island Rendezvous 2017

Just back from the Sucia Island group, in the northern San Juan Islands. This was the sixteenth annual gathering in Fossil Bay on one of the northern most islands in the western contiguous US.
A great time on the water, shared with some very talented sailors, on beautiful small craft.

Photo of Doryman in Saga, by Joe Fernandez

People we meet are often fascinated with the attractive boats all gathered in one spot, but mostly amazed that small boats like ours can be safe and seaworthy. Make no mistake, there are decades, nay centuries, of cumulative experience anchored in the shallow end of the bay this weekend, every year. Stories abound, of trials and daring-do. Places visited and the pleasure (and effort) of getting there and back.

Hot on Joe's tail.
Thanks for the photo, Joe Fernandez.

This year was one for the books. Though the weather was brilliantly sunny and warm, the breezes and tidal currents were fierce. Sailors from all points of the compass had tales of battles with the elements - what one might expect during a full moon with dramatic diurnal tides. In the San Juan Islands, the currents don't always follow intuitively with the tides.

Photo of Kees Prins in Dunlin. by Marty Loken

The prudent mariner will consult current charts, yet expect the unpredictable. In a narrow channel four miles wide, the current may run up to three knots and believe me, if the wind opposes such a flow, the result will challenge even the most experienced, in a small, low-power sailing vessel.


Dale and Chris' Scamp, from Canada, photo by Marty Loken.

This year, Doryman sailed his well-founded 18' faering Valgerda, designed by John Atkin. This open design was fashioned after the Viking faerings of old and for it's size is an exceptional sea boat. The first challenge came within moments of departure. Crossing the east end of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, from Port Townsend to the Islands always has something new to offer. A glassy sea twenty nautical miles across can turn fierce within minutes.

 Soon after departure, rounding Wilson Point into the commercial shipping lane, one of the all-too-frequent container ships showed up on the horizon. These behemoths clock fifteen knots or more, of speed, and are just plain scary. A breeze had just come up from the west, which opposing the tidal current created an instant boil. After the ship had passed, at close quarters, I swear it's wake kicked the wave action to a frenzy. Soon we were engulfed in standing waves well over our heads, with breaking tops and spumes of spray flying.



Kleppers and folding boats at play in the Bay.

Worthy Saga rode the maelstrom with dedication. For the next two challenging hours, only one small wave found it's way over the coaming, but unfortunately most of three gallons of seawater shot straight up and landed directly in Doryman's lap.


Photo of Bob Miller at the helm of his Drascome Longboat, Sally Forth. by Marty Loken.

Fortunately the day was warm, though, as many of you know - saltwater is very slow to dry. Despite being uncomfortably wet for awhile, the rest of the day was glorious, running north in Rosario Strait with a strong flood tide current running in our direction and a breeze on the beam.

Joe Fernandez brought his popular Cape Dory 22, Philly Girl, all the way from Texas.
Marty Loken photo.

Many mariners in attendance at Sucia had similar tales to tell. Great weather, yet challenging conditions, sometimes in your favor, others not so much. Welcome to small boat cruising in one of the premiere inland waters of the world.

Full moon over Kirk Gresham's Flicka, Koan. 

Even a long weekend, in such august company, is never enough. Many thanks to all my good friends, old and new, for a memorable time in such a beautiful spot. Already looking forward to next year - this gathering gets continually better and better, like fine whiskey in a barrel.

Joel Bergen's Navigator, Ellie drying out on the beach.

 Martin Schneider's Allegra 24, Clover.

 Paul Miller's Friendship.
Photo by Marty Loken.

One of my favorites. Janet and Bruce Ward's Clarity.
A Montgomery 23, from the British Canadian interior.

 Jamie Orr's new (old) Atkin schooner, Orkney Lass.

There's more, much more...
For the diehard, more photos can be found on Doryman's Flickr site.  Some photos courtesy of Marty Loken. Thank you, Marty!

And yet more photos, courtesy of Dale Simonson, the first Scamp to join us in Fossil Bay. Thank you, Dale, it was a pleasure to meet you.

Gone Sailing

Doryman is heading out.

It's time for the annual Sucia Island Rendezvous, in the Sucia Island group in the San Juan Islands, US. I expect to be seeing many of you there. Looking forward to it, the weather is superlative.

This year, the very worthy Atkin Valgerda faering, Saga is the vessel of choice. It's been a few years since the last cruise in this very seaworthy open boat. She's a strong little cruiser, perhaps more so than her skipper.

Salish Sea, here we come.......

The Story of a Jib and a Balanced Lug

With Musings on a Lateen.

There was once a lonely Lug who didn't know what he was missing until he met Jib. He sailed to windward, off the beam and dead down, all with apparent equanimity.

Then one day Jib came along and spiced up his life. Now he had someone to get hung up on. Jib liked to languish on his yard and get tangled in his boom. Just the life for a Lug.
Jib had many fine qualities, but fast tacking was not one of them. More like a perpetual holiday for Jib.

Doryman has gotten used to having both of them around. Jib and Lug work well together. The occasional tangle of sheets, boom, leach and yard bother no one.

"Faerings aren't suppose to have Jibs". "A balanced Lug and a Jib won't work on the same Boat.".

Let people talk. They are just jealous.

Thanks to Jamie Orr for the photos.

The inspiration for this sail combination came to me from David Oliver of the excellent blog, Lutes which celebrates the traditional fishing vessels of the Balearic Islands. The Balearic sailing rigs developed as a way to facilitate work on deck, while offering performance for navigation. David reminds us it is important to view these rigs as a tool for fishing to understand how they are used. There are types of working craft from around the world with provision for the same or similar sail combinations.

The lutes employ a lateen rig, yet by adding a jib far forward, windward performance is improved.

The addition of a mizzen on a retractable boomkin gives more sail options, not the least of which is the ability to strike that huge main, allowing more room to work. 

While the lateen can be mounted far enough forward to act as a jib and main combination, the option of a jib plus main is more versatile.


The balanced lug rig is very similar to the lateen in function. The ancient lateen is possibly the most beautiful sail in the world.


David's blog is written in Catalan, but for those of us who have trouble with that complicated language, he offers a translator and we thank him for that! He owns a beautiful lute and it's a treat to see one under sail. I recommend a long visit to Lutes.

A Cautionary Tale

A couple weeks ago the flood tide that would lift Saga north from Anacortes, Washington to Sucia Island near the Canadian border, started mid-afternoon. The boat was rigged, provisioned and ready to go that morning. The only thing unaccounted for was the compass. Couldn't be found anywhere.

No big deal, these are protected waters where land is always visible and the route well known. Anxious to get underway, we set off. The tide would be against the little boat for the next four to five hours, but after a gentle push west out of Guemes Channel on the ebb, the idea was to sail leisurely at the south end of Bellingham Channel until the flood, then ride the afternoon tide all the way to Sucia Island.

All was well. The day was bright and beautiful. The wind was a bit light and the current steady, so very little forward progress was made all morning. Just to the west a pretty band of fog drifted in off the Strait of Juan de Fuca and along the coast of Cypress Island. Saga was behaving well and making probably two or three knots over the water, yet none over the ground. In fact the set was a bit to the west, which caused no particular concern, it was good to just be sailing.

The fog on the western shore had dissipated as the sun reached it's zenith, so imagine my surprise when Saga was suddenly engulfed in mist. Habitually, I looked for the compass which, as we already know, was no where to be found. Cursing my ill fortune, I watched the peaks on Cypress Island disappear as the sun turned to a diffuse milky haze. The regular rhythm of a light fetch was all the directional indication left.  
Saga held her course.

Directly behind me, I heard the toll of a navigational horn on a big ship. I must be drifting south, back into Guemes Channel!

Panic is deadly and must be avoided at all costs. File through all the options. Strike the sails and get the motor going. But then what? No worries, there is a compass function on the GPS. Now some of you may laugh because you know Doryman doesn't use a GPS very often, he depends on his charts and his COMPASS.

The compass function was not hard to find but it took me a few minutes to discover the gadget had to be oriented along the centerline of the boat to give an accurate reading. It didn't help that this little hand held toy has a turtle shell shaped back and will not lay flat on a seat or thwart.

It does no good to have plenty of fuel and a dependable engine if you have no idea where you are or where you're going. The horn on my stern was much louder by now and it was time to get the hell out of here. I flipped to the map function and panned out to get a bearing and imagine my surprise to see "Strait of Juan de Fuca" on the western margin of the tiny screen. The magnitude of my dilemma just set in. I was possibly in the shipping lane for Guemes Channel, and even more disconcerting, might be very near the much more heavily trafficked Rosario Strait. The horn from that freighter was very loud, very close.

This story might have a different ending if the fog had not lifted at that moment. The stark reality was apparent in the mid-afternoon sun. I had indeed drifted southwest into Rosario Strait and was close to three miles from where I'd last taken a visual bearing.
I never saw the freighter. (and I'm sure they never saw me.)

As I motored back into position, the tide turned and the trip north began. The rest of the day was by turns easy and exciting. Around the east side and up the north end of Cypress Island, Saga again entered the wind tunnel that is Rosario Strait. With all sail set, the motor pushing at an idle and the tide at her back, Saga clocked a top speed of 7.2 knots on a port broad reach toward Orcas Island. Not bad for an eighteen foot boat.

Soon Sucia Island was in sight. The first task, after setting anchor and before dinner, is to find that compass!

To be continued...

Sailing the Valgerda

Been anticipating this for a long time, it seems. A little over a year.

The Valgerda, Saga, restored to more than her former self proudly spreads her wings. (Follow the previous link to see the development of this project and more.)









There is a good bit of serendipity in the recreation of this design by William Atkin. A former owner added an extension to the design keel and Doryman redesigned the sail rig, so successful engineering was potentially compromised by too many cooks in the broth.





But I'm happy to report that Saga sails all points with grace. The balanced lug is new for me, so I'm still struggling with it's vagaries. Each tack has it's unique quirks. The boat has a sensitive and responsive helm, even in light airs and points much higher to windward than I expected, a fact I attribute to my friend Lynne Fabricant and her exceptional sail-making skills. The helm is in perfect balance on 8-12 knot breeze. What more could a Doryman ask?








My good friend John Kohnen, who sold me this fine old boat, is appalled at the keel extension and even calls it an "abomination". Sorry John, the keel stays as it is. Couldn't be happier.

Why mess with perfection?







There are still some details to adjust but that is half the fun. The Norse faering, Saga, promises to feature in many future adventures here on DoryMan.

Saga under Sail from doryman on Vimeo.

Photos on Flickr.
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