| ``SOMEWHERE" IN GEORGIAN BAY |
Aug. 1993: I have just returned after 2[1/2] weeks sailing around
Georgian Bay and the North Channel with my three sons (14, 11 and
11), and their 11 year old friend. My boat, the ``Somewhere", is a
1971 Grampian 30 powered by an Atomic 4 and quite well equipped.
I had put it in the water only in early July, with a few small
weekend excursions to shake things down, so this big cruise could
have been difficult. In fact, everything worked well, and we all
learned a LOT about sailing. And the crew survived the experience
without too many black eyes and bruises from fights, and wants to
go up the North Channel again next summer.
Sat. 31 July 1993:
We started our voyage in Penetanguishene at 1830, motoring 3 hours to Beckwith Island to anchor in the dark. I had friends waiting there, ready to start sailing to Toronto the next morning around the long way.
Sun. 1 Aug.
Departed Beckwith Island at 1010 for Parry Sound. Broad reached to the Western Islands, whereupon the wind died as we turned dead downwind for Seguin Bank. Motored for 7 hours: in addition to the uncomfortable waves, we were attacked by a swarm of vicious flies out of sight of any land... the unwelcome hitchhikers stayed with us until landfall ... Anchored at dusk in Jacknife Harbour behind Squaw Island after motoring through the approaches to Parry Sound. I fed a tired crew ... Next day we rested: the boys swam, while I figured out how to organize downwind sailing. The recent articles in ``Cruising World" about preventers and poles were most useful, but I decided to use my telescopic whisker pole with no extra lines.
Tues. 3 Aug.
Dep. Squaw Is. 1100, with just a jib, poled out in the westerly wind as we headed into Parry Sound. I put away the pole and put up the main as we tacked broad reaches towards the town of Parry Sound. The wind piped up very quickly to 25 knots or so, and we had a wild ride into Parry Sound with jib and unreefed main (my boat is undercanvassed and very stiff ...).
There is a very nice new town marina for transients in Parry Sound called Big Sound Marina, run by the Chamber of Commerce. A bit expensive at 85 cents per foot (plus GST), but it IS nice. Stayed two nights there.
Thurs. 5 Aug.
We departed Parry Sound before noon, and very soon I found my furling genny was useless beating into 20 knots or so. It's on a separate wire, so I changed sails under way, putting up the reefable jib. (I'm quite impressed by how hard it blows in Parry Sound, and how big the waves can get. It's a fully enclosed body of water, after all, about 10 miles x 10 miles or so.) We made fine progress after that, the boys enjoyed the spray and comings about. At the mouth of Parry Sound, I switched on the iron jib, and took the opportunity to put in a reef on the main.
It was getting to be 1630, and we still had a ways to go. What followed was a wonderful sailing experience: I went ALL the way up the Shawanaga Inlet, from Red Rock to Turning Island. The bottom half is unbuoyed, so I navigated with LORAN and hand bearing compass to avoid the rocks just under the surface. The wind was blowing 20 to 25 knots abeam, and the islets to the west stopped the big waves off Georgian Bay, so we roared up like a locomotive, at hull speed. The reefed main and the jib were perfect. The sun was low, the sky was cloudless, there were no waves, and the boat just kept pulling, all the way to Turning Island. We pulled into a fine anchorage just southwest of Turning Is., and the wind just stopped ... There were cottages, but the setting was beautiful.
Fri. 6 Aug.
We motor-sailed along the Small Craft Route to Pointe au Baril, then headed offshore in search of wind. The wind was light but good enough to sail us at a leisurely pace to Byng Inlet. It was getting late, so we motored up to Britt, only to find the Government Dock full of Government boats, so we went over to the other side of the river to the village of Byng Inlet, finding ITS government dock to be empty. Docked there. Nobody came to collect the advertised fee (this non-collection apparently is not unusual there).
Sat. 7 Aug.
We left the sleepy village of Byng Inlet at 1000, intending to motor up the Small Craft Route to the Bustards, but at the junction with the ship channel I felt a good breeze, so off-shore we went. Not a good idea: what I got was a lesson about lake breezes. So we motor-sailed up, in conditions so smooth that I cooked lunch on our non-gimballed stove and served it up at the dinette. Once the motor was off, we tried out the Autohelm 2000 for the first time, and after turning to go inshore, I hooked up the preventer (after a mild accidental jibe which proved its value to my crew ...). By 1530 we were on two anchors in the Northeast Harbour of the Bustard Islands.
Two days of exploring the Bustards followed. These islands are a miniature archipelago, of characteristic Canadian Shield rock and pine. The fishing was a bust, but the boys greatly enjoyed rowing around and hiking over some of the islands. There were surprisingly few boats around, no doubt because of the recession which is lingering in Canada rather more than in the US. There were more American boats than Canadian in some places, including boats which had been in the Mackinac races. A Catalina 38 called ``Flying Cloud" was anchored nearby.
Mon. 9th Aug.
We departed at 1040 for Killarney. A south wind gave us a nice beam reach, but the waves were building up since we were now at the north end of Georgian Bay. Turning North, I poled out the genny and clipped on the preventer, and we ran in satisfying fashion (for me, not for the boys, who don't enjoy downwind sailing in lumpy waves). In Killarney we picked up another boy, a friend of my sons, and stayed the night docked at the Sportsman's Inn. Killarney has a nice fish shop and bakery, but the grocery store is over-priced and under-supplied ...
Tues. 10th Aug.
After gassing up and pumping out, I dismantled the head and replaced the joker valve. (I find ``This Old Boat" a great source of information about equipment on my boat ...). Then we motored the 3 miles to Covered Portage Cove. Now we were into exciting terrain. We climbed the mountain to the north, and got a grand view of the anchorage. It was getting a little crowded, but we swung to one anchor. An X119 from Toronto called ``Brinehog" was next to us: another Mackinac racer gone cruising.
Wed. 11th Aug.
We motored down the Lansdowne Channel, the breeze on our nose, while some macho types were beating their way along. Once past Ship Reef and Boat Rock (the names tell you their depths ...), we hoisted sail and headed for Baie Fine, up which we motored 9 miles to the famous Pool. As one turns into the Pool, there is an island with a cottage, and docked to it is a megayacht of US registry called ``Chanticleer". How could some zillionaire wangle to buy an island in such a priceless scenic wonder as the Pool, which is part of the Killarney Provincial Park? Who is the zillionaire?
The Pool was the climax of the cruise. Next day, we rowed past the zillionaire's ``cottage" and climbed up the mountain to Topaz Lake, a magnificent clear blue lake set in limestone. The boys found a cliff to dive off, while I sat like a chimpanzee on the steep slopes and gorged myself on blueberries.
The first evening the boys fished eagerly, and to everyone's delight caught two catfish, promptly christened Icky-Poo One and Two. These were dispatched and eaten for a delicious dinner.
In the evening we sat on the trunk top and watched the Perseid meteor shower, in perfectly clear and still conditions. The Milky Way banded overhead. It's that kind of night which reminds me why I became an astronomer in the first place.
Fri. 13th Aug.
We motored from the Pool, putting up sails after exiting Baie Fine. Close hauled, making about 2 knots. The boys took turns being towed behind the boat in life-jackets. We were passed by a blue-hulled US-registered Grampian 26 called ``Santa Maria" ... motored up the Lansdowne Channel to Killarney for supplies, and was met by the Coast Guard ... some anxious parents had not heard from us (we were out of cellular phone range). Then back to Covered Portage Cove.
Sat. 14th Aug.
Dep. 0835 for Tobermory. Unfortunately, there were waves but no wind, so we motored uncomfortably on a heading due exactly South. In a prevailing westerly, this should be a magnificent sail of 40 miles, instead we rolled along on motor. Stopped for lunch at Club Harbour. Waves decreased, and the scenery coming into Tobermory was magnificent as the sun set. We went seeking anchorage in the Big Tub, but instead of the alleged 12 feet, mud, I found 45 feet, probably rock. By this time it was 2200, so I made an exasperated call on Channel 68, which fortunately was answered and we found a dock nearby. Crew by now very tired, very hungry and quite contrary.
Sun. 15th Aug.
Time was starting to press. After shopping, gas and pump-out, we motored east toward Wingfield Basin. This is a fine protected harbour right by Cabot Point, and an ideal jumping-off point to cross Georgian Bay (and vice-versa, because it is very well lit). We anchored hard by a big wreck called the ``Gargantua". The boys were genuinely spooked ... it rained. I cooked a fine fish dinner.
I listened carefully to the weather forecast. Thunderstorms, with the promise of a good wind afterward, never came. The whole Great Lakes seemed cursed by a high with little ripples for troughs. No wind; I had intended to sail overnight.
Mon. 16th Aug.
We woke up to a light easterly wind, so south we went. An on- shore effect gave us a pleasant sail to the little town of Lion's Head and its warmly welcoming town marina. After a brief pit- stop, we motored 2 1/2 hours to MacGregor Harbour.
Tues. 17th Aug.
Again waiting for promised north wind, but the forecasts were anemic. I decided we would have to motor across Georgian Bay, but then I realized we had only half a tank of gas (some people say sailboats on Georgian Bay are ``motorboats with sticks"). So back toward Lion's Head at 0630 in fog... then out into the Bay. My LORAN had refused to give me anything useful since Tobermory, but apparently the Bruce Peninsula is a black hole as far as LORAN is concerned ... On the way out I calibrated my Autohelm and set a course for Hope Island.
After two hours of motoring, a North wind appeared at 1300, and we set sail on a broad reach with the Autohelm keeping a consistent course in quartering seas. The boys entertained themselves as best as they could, while we made 4 to 5 knots. Eventually the LORAN found its stations, and gratifyingly confirmed my DR course. My eldest son, meanwhile, almost slipped overboard while goofing off; a sermon was not necessary but I was upset.
The haze and fog persisted, with visibility down to 3 miles, but everything worked and we were off the Hope Light at 2015. It was getting quite dark, so I headed for Sandy Bay on the south side of Hope Island, and anchored at 2130. But then I got careless: while testing the anchor set in full reverse, the prop swallowed the poly dinghy painter but choked before it could also eat up the dinghy... I pronounced diving for tomorrow, and cooked dinner.
Wed. 18th Aug.
Woke up, served pancakes, put on swim shorts and mask. A few minutes of diving produced a free prop and a chopped up painter. Motored 3 hours to home base at Penetanguishene. Put up sails, but no wind worth sailing ... pumped out and berthed. Drove 1 1/2 hours home after the mandatory visit to MacDonalds. So ended my first big cruise.
Now I have to decide whether to leave the boat in Georgian Bay, or to bring it down to Lake Ontario and live on it ...
| MOVING ABOARD FULL-TIME |
September: I posted this on the live-aboard mail list;
Hi All:
Well, yesterday was Decision Day: to commit to living aboard this winter or not. What the heck, I was helping some friends move aboard yesterday, I was in the area, so off to Frenchman's Bay I went. Found one more live-aboard to ask some questions, then to the marina manager's office to do some gentle haggling (succesfully) and plonk my CAN $1320 for 6.5 months of live-aboard mooring, bubbling, including hydro deposit and GST. The hydro will be extra, at normal metering rates, so I estimate my ``rent" will be just over $300 / month, including utilities. Includes launch and mast step (I'm trucking ``Somewhere" down from Georgian Bay at the beginning of October. Sailing it down would take up too much time and cost more... Giving up the Georgian Bay sailing is the big trade-off, unfortunately. Still, a summer vacation in the Thousand Islands or even down the St Lawrence doesn't sound too bad ... and there are all those interesting little ports in New York State to visit).
There will be problems to solve, but I've received wonderful advice from many of you. I'll be sharing a dock with about 30 other live-aboard boats, and there will be about 100 boats bubbling altogether at Port Pickering Marina. The community around the marina is very nice, with bus service to the marina entrance more or less. The commuter train station is 1 mile precisely, with transfer to the bus. Driving to either Richmond Hill, where I work over half the time and my kids live, takes 25 - 35 minutes depending on traffic, and going to the downtown campus takes the same time. There is a very large nuclear power station just around the corner, but I don't think about that too much ... (Ontario gets 50% or so of its ``hydro" from the atom...).
The ``Somewhere" is well set up for living aboard, and has been lived aboard before, but not through a winter! I have a dual 110 volts electric / alcohol stove, an Adler-Barbour Coldmachine DCM-12 fridge and Newmar RM-15 charger. The Cove-Ratelco wood stove will be replaced or augmented with some other fossil fuel heater (I have a spare Force 10 kero heater, but it doesn't sound to be suitable ...), and I'll use electric heaters as needed (I have one already. Any recommendations?) I will install foam panels in lockers, and something will have to be done about the liner unless the heat is dry enough ...
So let's hope we all have a successful winter aboard!
- Stefan Mochnacki
9 October 1993
Well, I have moved aboard. I trucked ``Somewhere" from the clear waters of Georgian Bay and plonked her into the mud of Frenchman's Bay on Lake Ontario. Quite literally! After a very high spring, the water level has dropped so much that there isn't enough depth at the slip, I had to pull the boat in by hand and with full power on. Other boats are also well and truly stuck in the ooze and not sailing any more. Perhaps tomorrow I'll try to power my way out for a spin ... Anyway, living on a grounded boat is a bit disconcerting: the motion is rather unpredictable even though small (fortunately without a list ... yet.) I suspect my marina is too poor to hire a dredge; ironically, there is a great big ex-dredge at the marina, converted into a floating restaurant!
Last night it was below freezing, with a healthy frost. I was very pleased with how little condensation I had, probably thanks to the air movement induced by the electric heater's fan. And I'm quite happy to keep the cabin at 55 F or so (my New Zealand upbringing showing through ... I find the standard 70 F of North American interiors to be uncomfortably hot: you can't wear a sweater at that temperature.) I'm seriously looking at buying a Dickinson diesel heater: -20 degree air and 0 C water are a far cry from 0 C air and 10 C water ...
Next month I'll build my ``house" over the deck and put in some insulation; this weekend I'm re-bedding stanchions and deck hardware (Saturday's downpour very rudely reminded me of three deck leaks I'd neglected during the summer). I still want to sail this year!
12 October 1993
Yesterday I DID get out for a sail, and it was rather interesting... it was nice not to have to pack bags and lug stuff afterwards.
What strikes me is that although I have spent an average of three nights every week since March on the boat, after moving aboard my relationship with the boat seems much more intense. It figures in my consciousness a lot more, and I have to think about things in a practical, immediate way. Maintenance needs to be done and not put off. Things I tolerated before or didn't have time to fix now get done.
| A FAST CRUISE ON LAKE ONTARIO |
I had put out e-mail to interested parties that I wanted to organize a ``serious crossing" of Lake Ontario, Toronto to Rochester, with night sailing, watches, etc. There finally were four of us: astronomers Goetz Golla and Marcin Sawicki, plus Dirk Fischer from Youngstown, OH, and myself. We arranged to meet Dirk at Youngstown, NY, from where we would have to drive Goetz to Lewiston to get his American visa for sailing (called an I-94 form), since Goetz is a German temporarily in Canada.
Friday, 8 July 1994:
We departed Ontario Place Marina at 1300, sailing south in light winds, and didn't reach Youngstown until 2030. After much meandering, we found US Immigration, got the necessary forms filled out and stamped, ate dinner at a nice restaurant and embarked for Rochester at midnight. The initial light winds slowly picked up, and by dawn we were moving along nicely. By 1000 we had 20 knots of wind on a downwind sleigh-ride. It was great sailing: the waves were small and on a broad reach very comfortable. We flew towards Rochester, arriving at 1500 hours. (But today I got a copy of ``Canadian Yachting", and read that George Hinterhoeller once did this leg on a Shark in 7 hours 44 minutes!).
We motored up the Genesee River to Shumway Marine. I pulled up at our booked slip, only to discover it was a piling slip with half a finger dock, which means you get one chance to snare the piling with a looped dockine at the stern ... and I had no such line ready. Twenty knots of wind quickly made the arrival a cross slip embarrassment, resolved with some local help.
After dinner and a walk, the tired crew put to bed early.
Sunday 10th July:
The wind was still blowing hard. We set out at noon, and quickly found the going very heavy indeed. Right away the jib sheet block exploded (I had put off replacing the sheave ...). Then I saw that the seizing around the jib sheet snap shackle at the clew had slipped, so that if we came about the sheet would probably fall off the jib and we would have a free-flying jib in 30 knots of wind. Dirk immediately volunteered to attach new sheets using bowlines at the clew of the closely hauled in jib. With his harness tether well anchored, Dirk leaned out on the shrouds and tied on the new jib sheet, which was cranked in using a spare winch and the old snap-shackled sheet detached. Quite a feat in a near-gale and very angry 6-8 foot waves washing over the bow.
We gave it an honest try, but after three hours of pounding we were back at out old slip in Rochester, paying for another night. The people in the Beneteau next to us drove us to a nice place for dinner.
Monday 11th July:
The wind had subsided, so we left Rochester at 0100. Beating now into a light wind, we made slow progress. I went below while the others had fun navigating. After sunrise, I took over while the others slept: a beautiful, pleasant morning in rather gentle winds, close-hauled under Autohelm. We managed to claw westwards on a starboard tack with fresh on-shore breezes until mid- afternoon; for a while we had to motor.
Lake Ontario has a few shore features so dominant that you think it takes forever to approach them, or worse yet, get away from them. The southern shore has such a feature (apart from Rochester): the Olcott power station. So it was that evening, until the westerly wind piped up again. Just before dark, we reefed down and changed the headsail to a working jib. All night we pounded along, the air beautifully clear, with a view of all the lights on both shores. The lights of Toronto are dominated by a few red and blew beacons atop the city's great bank towers.
Tuesday 12th July:
We allowed ourselves several miles offing, and at dawn we came about and beat for Youngstown, while Dirk fretted and then became resigned to not making it to work on time.
As we dropped sails and motored up the Niagara River, I chose to hug the eastern shore to avoid the current. Suddenly, the engine lost most of its power, and we barely made it to the town dock at Youngstown. After Dirk left for the OTHER Youngstown, we attended to the motor. Goetz offered an interesting suggestion, based on his experiences in Denmark: weeds around the prop. A quick flick into reverse released a cloud of weeds. I had gone too close to the shore ...
The remaining three of us headed out for Toronto, in twenty knots of wind and big two metre waves. Goetz retired to the quarterberth, while Marcin and I sailed across in five hours. A fast finale to a fast cruise.
| CRUISING THE BAY OF QUINTE |
In August, Dirk helped me take the boat to the Bay of Quinte, which I cruised with my sons Nick and Tim and their friend Cory. here's some e-mail I sent to Dirk afterwards:
Hi Dirk!
Well, I'm finally back from the cruise. We were gone 2 weeks. Ended up doing the Bay of Quinte, then to Waupoos and Main Duck Island. The return was via Cobourg and Frenchman's Bay.
How was your return trip? Hope you got back at a reasonable enough hour .... thank you again for being able to come, too bad the winds didn't blow more favourably. In fact, the return from Main Duck followed a similar scenario, with the FORECAST being for excellent favourable winds and the REALITY being piddly ones on the nose, followed by the final insult of peasoup fog. Used up two tankfuls of gas.
Despite the (mostly) uncooperative winds, we had some interesting times ... the Bay of Quinte has some beautiful gunkholes, not heavily occupied, with excellent fishing and swimming. The west-to-east legs of the bay had nice winds, we even flew the spinnaker, though the winds were too shifty to make it easy. After Cory left with his dad, we ran into heavier weather (a cold front ...), and off the eastern end of Prince Edward County we ran into conditions almost as heavy as those off Rochester. The main problem was that the dinghy began to founder, but we managed to get into a beautiful little cove at just the right moment, and with some ingenuity we plonked the dinghy on the cabin top (that vang was bought for more than one purpose ...). After that we motored straight into the 30 knot wind, making less than 2 knots headway and barely able to keep the boat pointing the right way ... (the crew refused to put up sails again in those conditions, wisely ...). Fortunately, Waupoos was only 4 miles from Mary Cove. I was astounded that the waves could become so big and nasty with so little fetch, but it is rather shallow in Prince Edward Bay. About the same time we saw a ketch further out put down its sails and motor to Waupoos: turned out to be a Gulfstar 41 called ``Liebchen" out of Oak Orchard, NY, and the family aboard had previously done a 7 month ocean cruise, but they claimed what they experienced on Prince Edward Bay was worse than anything on the ocean. They ripped their furling genny (which is why they gave up sailing and motored); of course I already had the working jib up and main reefed. Had it not been for the swamping dinghy, we could have beaten our way to Waupoos, but Nicky was getting a bit worried despite my assurances that I'd seen worse. However, coming about was difficult; that high bow really catches the wind over 20 knots, and it really needs two adults to bring it around.
Both ``Liebchen" and we stayed 2 nights in Waupoos because it blew so hard; when we left, the best sail of the trip was a 3.25 hour broad reach to Main Duck Island, where we stayed a night (it deserved a longer stay, but Nicky was getting cruised out: one kid (Nicky) is a competent sailor with good judgment (his readiness to do things improved markedly), while the other (Tim) does less work but enjoys cruising more.)
After Main Duck we sailed and motored west; a few miles west of Main Duck Nick spotted the abandoned inflatable (with 9.9 HP motor) which the CG radio had warned about. Despite 1 metre waves, we salvaged the damn thing and towed it to Cobourg (by that time we were also towing our hard dinghy again). I delivered it to the CG Search and Rescue station at Cobourg, and got the name of the owner: Dr. Bryan Anderson, S/V ``Briar Patch", somewhere in New York State (I guess its painter got untied). I'm expecting a suitable salvage fee ... (it took some effort).
After a lot of motoring, in the evening the Windex showed a tail wind, but on the surface there was totally glassy water and light fog. So, I put up the spinnaker (no main), and for an hour or so we had this fascinating experience of chugging at 3 or 4 knots over a perfectly smooth sea, with just the spinnaker perfectly filled under autohelm (we just adjusted the lines). Even used the reaching strut! When it got too dark and the wind picked up a bit, I snuffed the spinnaker and went wing-on-wing, later broad reach, all at a pleasant but leisurely pace until anchoring in Cobourg Harbour at 0300. This was the most extreme wind gradient I've experienced.
In the morning, after visiting the SAR and the gas dock, I anticipated a spinnaker run all the way to Toronto: forecast was ``East 10 knots". We got the exact opposite .... and even that died. Motored to Frenchman's Bay, anchored at 2100 or so. Next day we motored the last 20 miles to Ontario in THICK fog; half a mile out of FB a very lost, wet and scared little bat landed on the boat, then on ME, finally flew into the cabin and suspended itself behind the cabin heater stove. (At the same time, on Friday, Jeff from Frenchman's Bay, you remember, fellow we drank a lot of beer with, was taking the FB marina owner's wife and her sailboat to Ontario Place also. One mile out, he discovered that the compass was broken ....but that's another story!). After dodging logs and fishing boats in the soup, we arrived at Ontario Place (ah, the marvels of LORAN ... ), on Friday afternoon.
About 0300 on Saturday morning, I opened the companionway hatch and lay in the quarterberth. After a while, I heard a faint rustling, and the bat flitted silently out. I got this sudden feeling of great joy as it flew up through the hatch. The cruise was over.
| A BIG EARLY SEASON TRIP |
Well, May is almost over, and sailing season has started. Most of the boats have been launched and their masts stepped, and some people are actually sailing.
``Somewhere" has already sailed almost as much as all of last summer... and it's only a month since I sailed from Frenchman's Bay to Ontario Place. That was with my son Nick and crew Marcin, on April 29, a 20-mile close reach in nice, cool weather. A week later there was a day sail in variable winds. But for the Victoria Day weekend, I had planned for months a hard sail to Main Duck Island and back, when the water levels are high and the winds not so westerly and light.
The crew were Marcin, Goetz and my eldest son Alex. We left about 1am Saturday May 20, and sailed quickly past Pickering on a close reach. The day consisted of a pleasant spinnaker run to Cobourg, followed by a beam reach and assorted motoring during a wet night with (fortunately) distant thunderstorms. We arrived at Main Duck about 1000 hrs on Sunday May 21, after a non-stop sail of less than 34 hours. At 60 cm above chart datum, the water level was quite adequate for us to dock at Schoolhouse Bay; this early in the season there were few boats around, but 10 minutes after we tied up, a big power boat arrived, observed that the dock was now occupied, and left in obvious disappointment. My plan for an early trip to Main Duck had succeeded.
With Alex, I hiked over the uninhabited island. We heard many different bird songs, and observed one group of snakes sunning sensuously on the rocks. Back at the boat, we slept off the passage. By evening, a large CS34 had replaced the small boat on the other side of the dock. I cooked a steak dinner, the fireplace was lit, and a bottle of wine was demolished. The wind now was westerly at 20 knots, and we had no desire to bash our way back at night in those conditions. Instead, we did it the next morning.
All along, I had planned to sit a day or two at Main Duck and to wait for favourable winds. For once, I wouldn't sail to a deadline. But days before the trip, political circumstances had forced me to have to be in Toronto late on Tuesday May 23, so we headed out of Main Duck on the morning of Monday May 22, bashing into a 20 knot westerly and 1.5 metre waves. Nice sailing, with bright sunshine and good visibility, but a whole day of it is tiring and trying. One crew member collapsed on the settee and spent 12 hours prostate. Three of us fed many fish. Despite that, Alex steered a useful trick at the helm, and we shook out a reef and changed headsails as the wind decreased. Precisely at sunset, off Point Petre, the wind vanished. Motoring time, all the way to Cobourg, where we arrived at 1000 on Tuesday. I ran two miles to the bus-stop, managing to catch the last bus of the day to Toronto. Made my meeting, our side narrowly won the vote, and I ended up driving my car back to Cobourg. These little towns fifty or a hundred miles from Toronto are poorly served by mass transit ...
We left Cobourg on Wednesday morning, after a hearty breakfast at The Dutch Oven (highly recommended). Marcin, the certified Cast-Iron Guts on the crew, ate TWO breakfasts! The winds were light and variable; there was some nice sailing, but mostly we motored. We arrived at Ontario Place at midnight.
One of my regular crew, well known to this group, is Dirk Fischer, but he was unable to make the Main Duck trip. So this weekend, he came up, and with my son Tim, we planned to cross the lake to Wilson. Instead, we went to Youngstown, NY. That trip deserves its own story.
So, over about 9 days in May, we put well over 300 miles under ``Somewhere's" keel. A lot of brisk sailing, a lot close-hauled, but also a lot of motoring. Most of the time we had Lake Ontario to ourselves; very few cruisers, mainly racers near ports were visible. It wasn't terribly cold, but you certainly have to dress warmly under the foulies. My sons made considerable acquaintance with the lee rail, often with harnesses and tethers on, but they never complained. Above all, sailing with a good, experienced crew is very satisfying: the boat runs well, and nice things happen. Thank you Dirk, Goetz and Marcin.
| A WEEKEND VOYAGE TO YOUNGSTOWN |
On Saturday 27 May, Dirk Fischer, my son Tim and I set sail for Wilson, NY, after gassing up at Centre Island Marina and beating out of Toronto Harbour. Despite the nice weather, there were few boats out at 1300 hours. Torontonians seem fearful of anything but tropical weather. By 1400, we had cleared the Eastern Gap, and after the usual near-shore flukiness, we settled in to a close haul for Wilson. The wind increased, and by 1800 hours we knew that some tacks would be needed to fetch Wilson, an unpleasant prospect as the wind was now ESE at 20 knots, and reefing and a sail change were definitely on the agenda. Not fun any more. Tim was visiting the rail occasionally. The sight of Fort Niagara was too tempting, so we prudently changed course and surfed our way to Youngstown, with Tim no longer bothered by the miserable bashing of a hard beat. By 2000 we were climbing the stairs to street-level, seeking to re-visit a fine restaurant we'd been to last year. It was closed, so we went to the next one, and ordered steaks.
Shortly after we sat down, a group of five Germans met joyfully and sat at a table near us. Two young women and their fathers, and another woman. (Dirk is of German ancestry, and had missed the previous week's sail to Main Duck Island and back because he was involved in a German cultural event in Ohio.) Needless to say, eventually we struck up a conversation, and we discovered that some of the visitors were avid and qualified sailors. We invited them to come with us for a couple of hours in the morning. It was a fine evening; such pleasant, attractive people. The young women, living temporarily in the US, were delightful.
I woke up at 0700 and turned on the weather channel. The forecast was grim; about noon we could expect thunderstorms and twenty-five knots of wind, with lots of rain forecast. It takes about five hours to cross Lake Ontario; we could beat the weather only if we cancelled the sail with the Germans. So Dirk trudged up the stairs to meet the Germans over breakfast, while I prepared the boat. The excitement and anticipation of the evening had given way to the understanding that prudent seamanship and the safety of the ship (and especially of my son) must come first.
Dirk got back at 0800: ``I hate to make pretty women frown!" We motored down the river, and to our annoyed surprise, found little wind. Had we taken the Germans out, they probably would not have had any wind. We motored straight for Toronto, and the rain and wind slowly increased. The forecast had predicted the easterly veering to a southerly; instead, the wind backed, and eventually we were again beating hard! The last hour was wet, bumpy and windy; by 1300 hrs, we were safely tied up at Ontario Place, the head festooned with dripping gear, my son Tim warming himself under a comforter with an electric heater. We slept for a couple of hours, while Tim paid his first visit of the season to the attractions of Ontario Place (an amusement park). The crowds were sparse indeed on this sopping, blustery, thundery day.
As I write this at midnight, a thunderstorm rages outside. Soon I have to go out and drive back to the boat; it's rather peaceful in my office, with just the hum of centaur and crux. It's been a curious weekend; we altered our destination to avoid a bashing, thanks to which we met interesting people, and then to be safe, had to cancel a much anticipated sail with them. There is a price for prudent seamanship, but the rewards just may be infinite.
| FUN AND GAMES AT ONTARIO PLACE |
19 June 1995
This weekend I invited various people to come sailing and to see the fireworks at Ontario Place. I expected one son to come. On Thursday night he announces: ``I'm bringing three friends!" Oh. OK, not that many of my other invitees are coming, so ...
[At 0200 Friday, I discover my ColdMachine has quit ... soon I find the reason: my long-gone but still connected fridge batteries have dried up. Many litres of Spring Water (no doubt horrible for batteries...) produce a marginally working fridge: just shore-power charger alone won't do: there's some sort of complex interaction between the batteries and the fridge controller. At 0530 I go to bed in the quarterberth, hatch open, sun shining.]
On Friday, I go to pick him up, with his three friends. Immediately, his twin brother announces he is coming too! After loud protest from twin Number 1, it's agreed twin Number 2 is allowed to come, with strict conditions on behaviour. Five 12-13 year-olds are shoe-horned into one little Toyota Tercel.
At midnight, Dirk arrives. Other crew can't come. We now have our complement: two forty-something guys and five pre-adolescent boys, in a 30-foot boat with a heatwave in the forecast. No women, no other crew ...
On the Saturday the rides at Ontario Place are free; a special day. So I leave the boys in the park, armed with quarters and my cellular phone number, while Dirk and I take ``Somewhere" out into a terrific afternoon of 15-20 knot winds and one metre waves: perfect for full sail and cooling spray. After three hours, we return to feed the horde. Spaghetti and salad go down well. Dishes are washed while Dad has a shower ... at 2230, it's time for the ``Symphony of Fire", an annual fireworks with music contest put on by Ontario Place. Tonight it's Italy's turn: twenty-five minutes of explosions of light, colour and sound, set to music such as the ``Twin Peaks" theme. Lying on the cockpit bench, I can feel the boat vibrate to the bangs. Afterwards I serve apple pie and whipped cream. It's party time at Ontario Place.
By this time, Dad and Dirk are pooped, and snooze off on the cockpit benches. The horde takes off to observe the night-life of Ontario Place. At 0130, I wake up; no kids on the boat! A quick patrol produces two rather tired absconders, and soon three more show up. They don't seem to quite understand Dad's concern about kids wandering around an amusement park when the bars are closing ...
Sunday: I awake to three bells on the ship's clock. Time to appease
middle-aged bladder. I get up and stagger off to the marina
head. At least most of the boating populace looks just as hung over. Back at
the boat, everybody is still asleep, despite the sun and heat.
Today I announce that we're all going sailing. The twins would much rather stay in the ``Nintendo Power Pod", but their friends are less blase about the prospect of sailing. Finally we head out for the Anchorage in the Leslie Spit. After some desultory sailing, we anchor in the Anchorage and I set up the sailing dinghy, an Optimist-rigged pram with an excessively forward centreboard, which makes coming about a cranky adventure. Twin Number One now comes into his own, taking the other boys for sails. I pump up my thoroughly quilted inflatable, which somehow retains air and allows three boys to fool around while the other two are sailing. All this in between the moored boats of the Aquatic Park Sailing Club, which includes some serious cruisers. Finally both boatloads of boys go ashore and swim; a lesson on handling daggerboards and pintle-mounted rudders in shallow waters appears to be safely learned while we watch through binoculars from the big boat.
By now it's 1500, and Dirk is worrying about his long drive back to Youngstown, Ohio. The boys need to go home, too. I call them in with the fog horn; they return. Dirk sails the dinghy for an hour while I feed the horde. Dirk returns, cursing at the discomfort and crankness of the dink, and the fickleness of the breeze. I deflate the other dinghy, and everything is stowed. We leave, wondering about the wind, and indeed it is fluky, though not entirely useless. In the late afternoon, we see a junk rig starkly above the horizon. I wonder if it's ``Lorcha". As we come closer, the striking white and red steel boat, with the name on its side, affirms my question. I announce to the horde how exciting this is, to see a boat which carried a family around the world. The excitement isn't reciprocated. The horde is asleep!
Time passes so quickly under sail, mainly, it seems, while waiting for decent wind. As often seems to happen here, a strong breeze pipes up in the early evening, and we race in over the last two miles. The site of port, of course, means a lot of work: sails down, fenders on, docking lines attached, and so on. The horde sleeps on.
Dirk leaves quickly to return to the US. The horde, needless to say, flees for the free video games at the Power Pod; finally I manage to shoo them out and into my car. We get stuffed at the Saigon Palace, the definitive grad student eatery. I drive everybody home, meeting parents to make sure the kids don't get any blame for lateness. Somehow the year's first heatwave has made everybody mellow, even after ten PM ...
| A CRUISE TO THE PUMP-OUT DOCK |
1800 Sunday 25th June: I cast off to take ``Somewhere" to the pumpout dock, a bi-weekly chore. Once done, I go back to the control tower at the entrance, to hail for docking assistance. Lots of students employed for the summer, so why not. But the student on duty is busy tying up a boat, so I head out the entrance. It's very warm, a breeze is blowing. What the heck, let's go sailing! I motor out for a few minutes, then stop dead in the water to go through the preparations for single-handed sailing: docking lines and fenders stowed, sail-cover off, Autohelm hooked up, cockpit cushions out, life-jacket on. I idle into the wind, raise the main, unfurl the jenny. Engine off. The breeze takes me quickly out into the lake. Very few boats out. I strip off, feel the warm, humid, dying breeze and savor the silence.
After a while, it's motoring time. I steer for the anchorage at the Leslie Spit. At 2100, I'm at anchor. Oddly, it's going to be my first night at anchor this year. Lake Ontario is generally sailed port to port, not gunkholed. It's a delight to have real anchorages within a couple of miles of downtown Toronto, though shared with countless raucous, smelly, nesting seagulls.
Fossicking in the lockers produces some canned food. I'm surprised that cans rust even on the lake ... I open the curtains and watch the fading view of the bay in the dusk while my food cooks. Dinner is eaten to ``New Age" music on the radio: I don't usually listen to that stuff, but it's somehow appropriate for an evening in this very quiet anchorage. Even the seagulls have piped down. A shower passes, with distant thunder. Later during the night, I sleep in the cockpit, with just a blanket and a pillow. If it rains again, I'll know soon enough, but it doesn't.
0730 Monday: I get up, eat some breakfast. It's blowing about 15 knots, so I
start the engine, weigh anchor, unfurl the genny, and sail out with the
motor in neutral. The sail past the front of Toronto is surprisingly devoid
of traffic: just the ferries to be avoided. Usual dockline and fender
chores. By 0930 I'm back at Ontario Place and heading for the showers.
So ends my 15-hour pumpout cruise. Better than staying at the dock
and brooding about all the stuff stolen from my car two days earlier.
| MY FIRST RACE |
A few months ago I read a few items about the Lake Ontario 300 double-handed challenge, and decided that I wanted to compete in this race, to at least finish in respectable enough fashion. In the past couple of years I have sailed over all parts of the course in a variety of weather, and felt that this would be a good ``test". I asked my most experienced crew-member, Dirk Fischer, if he would do it with me, and he agreed. I had no illusions that my tough old Grampian 30 ``Somewhere" would be competitive unless it blew like stink, in which case we would be uncomfortable indeed.
Now, I had never sailed in a race and I wasn't a member of any yacht club. You have to belong to a club to race. I joined Pickering Yacht Club because it was the most logical choice, given that East Shore Marina is my winter port, I knew some of the members, and the club would greatly enhance my winters. Due to intervening personal matters, joining the club, getting a PHRF certificate and fixing up the boat to meet the strict safety requirements had to be done in a big last-minute rush; this included a one-week haul-out (first for three years...), and with windless weather contributed to our not even raising the sails between relaunch and the start of the race.
We arrived at Oakville about 2000 hrs Thursday 20 June, in time for the safety inspection, which was rigourously conducted by an old salt. The only problem was lack of a drogue on the MOB pole, which was promptly and generously rectified by a loan of one by the race organizer.
On Friday, we headed out early to calibrate the boat compass against Dirk's brand-new DataScope. The start was at noon; we were a bit slow across the line in the shifty winds. Very soon a spinnaker run towards Port Credit was under way; we lost a lot of time with our first spinnaker set, and we were near the end of the fleet. After rounding the Port Credit mark at 1421, we enjoyed a pleasant close reach toward the Niagara buoy, with most of the fleet doing a horizon job on us. We were keeping ahead of a few boats, but were dismayed when a Redwing 30 called ``Macwing" suddenly accelerated and went past, hailing us about our ``ensign still flying". We quickly took it down, a consultation with the CYA Rule Book indeed confirmed that only signalling flags should be flown while racing. Red face. Meanwhile, I prepared a deviation table, and made food. I also discovered that the spinnaker halyard was fouled by the upper furling swivel, which would be rectified only by dropping the genny after furling (``Somewhere" has an old-fashioned wire-furling system). We rounded the Niagara buoy at 1852, and really should have flown the spinnaker then, but instead chose to pole out the genny and run downwind. All night we kept pace with ``Kondor II", a Douglas 31 in the white sails division: he had a properly guyed pole, but in the easy conditions it didn't matter much that ours was free. We reported by VHF every six hours to the Canadian Coastguard in accordance with the Sail Plan we had filed. I took the watch before midnight, then Dirk took over. Dawn saw us reaching in light wind and as the wind freshened, we easily passed ``Kondor". Our speed over the ground was about 6 knots for much of Saturday, and as we approached Main Duck, our spirits were high.
Rounding Main Duck was our undoing. In the thick fog, the wind first died, then became southerly. The waves became lumpy and confused, which made me seasick. We crossed the fleet which had rounded Main Duck. We were forced to go downwind, it was too difficult to set the spinnaker or pole out the genny, so we elected to broad reach in jibes downwind. Somehow our navigation wasn't too swift, and we quickly found we'd gone too far west toward False Duck. What we should have done earlier was to furl the genny and run downwind on main alone. As we approached Main Duck, the wind increased to 20 knots, so we set the working jib and reefed the main. We never saw another boat for the whole race.
A night of hard beating turned into light wind tacks approaching Point Petre. For me Point Petre always seems to mean the death of wind. Now began slapstick comedy: not once, but twice the spinnaker halyard snapshackle was banged open during tacks and the spinnaker halyard flew free. The second time we almost lost it: it was still blowing decently, and we frantically tried to snare the flying halyard with the boathook. Somehow we caught it and then ensured it was properly attached to the mast.
A night of ``light, variable winds" was forecast, so I chose to head further South, for the New York coast, where statistically the winds are stronger and where we had on a previous cruise successfully used shore breezes. Nightfall saw us becalmed right off Point Breeze, on average the windiest place on Lake Ontario. I had an interesting watch: perfectly becalmed, the boat pointing in random directions. Eventually a light easterly arrived, and we ghosted all day past Olcott and to the Niagara mark under spinnaker. I spent a lot of time lying in the cockpit staring at the Windex and steering with the tiller extension. We had a very close look at the huge Olcott power station which so dominates the lake.
A gentle cold front arrived about the time we rounded the Niagara mark, and after an hour or two becalmed in the shipping lanes off Port Weller, a fine northwest breeze blew up. We spent the final night in exhilarating tacks toward Oakville. We crossed the line at 1039 hours, and the finishing siren was great welcome, despite us being the last boat to finish. Still, some other boats did not finish, and the committee van was still there to record our arrival. Official results are awaited ...
| A CRUISE TO THE THOUSAND ISLANDS AND A VOYAGE BACK |
This summer my kids weren't very enthusiastic about sailing. From Toronto, one must sail so far to reach any decent gunkhole cruising grounds. Last year I took my twins Tim and Nick, along with my old hard-sailing crew-mate Dirk, to the Thousand Islands. They were worth another visit. One weekend in July, my sons came to Ontario Place with their friend Rob, spending the day on the free rides while I went sailing with my student and new crew member, Sara. At dinner, Rob showed interest in coming on a cruise, and before long two of my sons agreed to come if Rob came. I decided to strike while the iron was hot, and we were outta there at midnight on the morning of July 10, after filing a sail plan with the Coast Guard. Every four hours I would call the CG in Prescott and report ``Somewhere's" position.
That first day, the boys showed quite a bit of enthusiasm for taking watches, and the downwind sailing was comfortable wing-on-wing. After sunrise, we flew the spinnaker, until 1300 or so, when we dropped it after a particularly nasty wrap. This made me a few minutes late for my call to the CG, who phoned me on the cellular to check up. We continued on a broad reach to Cobourg, where we docked at 1600 for gas, a pump-out and a large helping of wings at the Cobourg Yacht Club. We left at 2100, motoring until 0145. We sailed steadily at 4 to 5 knots on a broad reach. The previous night's enthusiasm for watches sank under bleary eyes, and waking the crew took effort. Again, after sunrise we popped open the chute, and took it down when the wind died. After a while, back up it went, but this time so did the wind, and things were getting hairy. Down came the sock, with surprisingly little trouble. We were starting to get good at this! Twenty knots of wind now filled the poled-out genny, with no main up, and we surfed along in a rising sea. As we turned for Kingston, we raised the main, and roared along on a broad reach under full sail. I decided not to stop at Kingston but to sail two more hours to Brakey Bay, at the east end of Wolfe Island. At 1905 we were at anchor, at the end of a magnificent day of sailing.
Next day, Friday July 12, began lazily.
We left at noon, sailing slowly on genny alone through Wanderers'
Channel toward Gananoque. We ``raced" a 27-footer at one knot. Gananoque has an
excellent shuttle-bus service every half hour from the docks to anywhere
downtown, so we stocked up on groceries. By 1630 we were doubly anchored in
weeds at Beau Rivage, one of the many islands which comprise the St. Lawrence
Island National Park. It's nice to be able to go hiking, even for a ``user fee".
On Saturday, the boys took both dinghies (hard and inflatable) and went
fishing, while I did a pile of cleaning and repair jobs. I even began to
mount the dodger I recently bought, but to my dismay found that the winches
would have to be moved. The boys brought back several fish, which I cleaned
and cooked for dinner. Only I ate the fish. No more ``keepers" if the boys
wouldn't eat them! Tim's traumatic experience with an eel at the same place
last year was fading quickly. We spent a second night at Beau Rivage.
Sunday 14th July: departed Beau Rivage 1030, dropped by Gananoque for
pump-out and water. we motored to the Navy Islands and anchored in the large
anchorage north of Downie Island. The boys fished off the deck while I
rigged the dinghy and went sailing. For a while I raced a radio-controlled
model, which cleaned my clock ... The radio
controlled boat was operated by a chap in a Contessa 32: he had just
retired, and he and his wife were just starting out on their way, I
don't think they knew where. Everywhere in these islands I encountered
weeds, which caught on appendages and got sucked into the water intake. I
removed and unblocked the intake filter about five times.
Monday 15th July: lots of rain in the morning. Later, Nick and I went
sailing in the dinghy. We had gone only a short distance when Nick called
out in alarm. I looked over at an awesome site: a white wall coming toward
us. I grabbed the mast and yanked out the whole rig as the
heaviest rain squall I've ever been caught in drenched us. Fortunately the
wind wasn't too bad: the white wall was the spray thrown up by the deluge
pounding the surface. Nick bailed anxiously. We scurried back to ``Somewhere".
Later yet, Nick and Rob sailed quite a long distance, learning the hard way
not to go downwind too far, especially in a heavy and crank version of an
Optimist.
Tues. 16th July: We left Downie Island and sailed downwind under genny in a
brisk westerly. I chose an interesting course past the resorts and marinas
of Ivy Lea, then under the Thousand Islands Bridge and to the end of Hill
Island, anchoring at a beautiful location called Batterman's Point.
Thunderstorms skirted nearby while I dredged up a dinner from the nether
regions of the boat (Puritan stew). After dark, I rigged emergency nav lights
and went rowing with Nick.
Wed. 17th July: Nick and I rowed ashore and hiked around Batterman's Point.
Once again, I de-weeded the engine intake filter, and we motored up the St.
Lawrence past the Admiralty Islands. With the widening of the river, we
raised sail and beat our way to Kingston. The breezes are so fine around
Kingston: even a long beat is a delight, especially in the late afternoon.
We docked in Confederation Basin at 1930: I chose that over the yacht
club reciprocal for convenience.
We strolled around and had dinner at the Kingston Brewery Company. A call at Becker's Milk near the marina ended sourly when Nick was warned not to come in if he had no money. I took strong exception to my son being treated like that when he was doing nothing at all.
Thurs. 18th July: Up at 0800 for shopping. Small town Ontario opens early
and closes early. At 1200 we left Portsmouth Harbour after the obligatory
pit stop. No wind, so we motored 20 miles to Main Duck Island. The weather
forecast was beginning to sound grim, and I was tempted to go up the Bay of
Quinte, but Rob was keen to go to an uninhabited island. Nick and Tim had
seen it all before ... ah, jaded youth.
We entered Schoolhouse Bay at 1600, with many boats at anchor. By some miracle, a power boat was just leaving the dock and we nipped in, despite lack of lines and fenders. For the third visit in a row, I had the dock at Main Duck. We all went for a swim on the south shore of the island; the wide rock ledges were well under warm water.
In the evening, we roasted wieners over a campfire. Main Duck is a great place, an island just for boaters. It's unique on Lake Ontario. Schoolhouse Bay is a great little anchorage for those who are shallow of draft, but with water levels a metre above chart datum, even big keelboats can enjoy its refuge.
On Friday morning we had very heavy rain and wind. The same storm went on to do great damage in Quebec. In the afternoon, we went swimming again, this time in surf. Rob found an injured duckling, beautifully coloured, and it was painful to see him learn the way of nature, since the little bird was doomed. There were many snakes around. The surf pounded, nobody could leave the island.
Sat. 19th July: In the morning, I rowed the few yards across Schoolhouse Bay
to see the eel fishery. Two fisherman scratch a living by catching eels
(mostly live) for the European market. They graciously showed me their eel
pen and its contents, while complaining bitterly about the declining fishery
due to the large numbers of baby eels being caught downstream for the
Japanese market. The recent history of fisheries in Canada is appalling,
and shows little sign of improving.
With help, I put the dinghy on ``Somewhere's" coach roof and lashed it down. The working jib was reefed and bent on. The main was reduced to its second reef. I was prepared for heavy sailing.
From then on, the log book contains only positions. What I was unable to write under way were the experiences of the hardest passage I've yet sailed. The wind was blowing twenty-five knots, with waves advertised at two metres, and I would have to beat to Cobourg, seventy miles upwind, to be able to get to a meeting in Toronto on Monday. I really wished I had motored up the Bay of Quinte, but in many ways the visit to Main Duck had been the highlight of the cruise. Now the hard part began.
We left at noon, the only boat to do so, and much to others' misgivings. We motored in the heavy chop for an hour to clear the island; one wave broke over the boat and soaked the boys. I sent everybody below after we hoisted sail. We were on our way. From 1400 I would be at the helm for eighteen hours. I close-hauled along the desolate coast of Prince Edward County, for there are no places to put in there once Long Point is passed. As we neared Point Petre, the waves became meaner. Every so often, a train of three or so much larger waves would appear, and I quickly learned that I couldn't wiggle over these, because the second and third followed too closely and had to be met head-on.
About 1800 or so, I suddenly encountered a solid wall of water. This time ``Somewhere" didn't rise, she ploughed right in. As the water cascaded over the dinghy and deck, we were flying weightless through the air, to abruptly crash into the trough. Three faces appeared at the companionway: ``What happened?!". Very calmly : ``Only a big wave. The boat's designed to take it." Actually, the boys were lucky not to be hurt, as they were hurled out of their berths. Just as well that we met the rogue wave head on and not abeam. For the first time, I encountered truly dangerous waves.
I was worried about such waves after dark, but fortunately past Point Petre the waves eased a bit and the sailing was fair. Every hour or two I would heave-to and take a fix and do other things, before completing the tack. For twenty four hours I ate or drank nothing; despite being outside and at the helm, I fed quite a few fish, though I could still function. Not so my sons, who suffered at times. I felt sorry for putting them through this. I hate sailing to deadlines.
In the early evening, there had been a lull, and to handle the waves I started the motor. Imagine the dismay when the motor just died . I began planning our arrival in Cobourg under sail only.
The prospect of steering all night somehow didn't upset me. Sometimes I would nod off, and the boat would rudely awaken me by rounding up and heaving to. Just before dawn Jupiter was setting dead ahead; looking astern, there was Venus rising and at the same altitude. I was sailing from Venus to Jupiter...
Finally, at 0800, Nick emerged in full foulies and relieved me for two hours of delicious sleep. By this time the sun had risen and a good sailing day had begun. We shook out some reefs and continued beating toward Cobourg. The boys emerged before noon, and we all celebrated our new sea legs by cooking and eating rice and vanilla puddings, cereals and the like. The boys began to lie about the deck, unfazed by twenty knots of wind and one metre waves. Just a cool, pleasant afternoon.
The apparent engine failure was resolved neatly. Rob, who prides himself in his knowledge of motors, asked to try things, and he quickly found that the motor worked well with the choke ON. Something had gotten reversed.
We arrived in Cobourg at 1800 and docked at the marina. Another meal of wings at the yacht club followed, but this time our appetites were far less. The leftovers were stowed in the fridge. I was amused to hear the locals complaining about the ``awful conditions" on the lake that afternoon.
Next morning, we were up at 0730 and caught the nine o'clock train for Toronto. A quick taxi ride to Ontario Place, a drive up the Don Valley, and I had all the boys home. I was only 90 minutes late for our departmental faculty retreat. In the evening, I met my long-standing stalwart crew member Marcin at Union Station, and after a pleasant train ride, we left Cobourg under motor at 2100. Unfortunately, the advertised 10-15 knots of southerly wind didn't appear, so we pointed the boat toward Toronto, set the auto-helm, and droned on for twelve hours. Last year's great night sail would not be repeated. I cooked up the previous evening's chicken wings, and we ate well under the stars. Keeping watches, we arrived in reasonable shape for a day's work. ``Somewhere's" voyage was over at 0935 Tuesday 21 July.
| THE NORTH SHORE CRUISING CHALLENGE |
29 July 1996: E-mail to regular and occasional crew:
To: Marcin, Sara, Cren
This coming weekend is the North Shore Cruising Challenge, at Frenchman's Bay, Pickering. The racing consists of two races around the cans, white sails only, on Sunday morning/afternoon. Most boats will arrive on Saturday (from a number of other clubs around Toronto), with a barbecue on Saturday night, and there will be a dinner/dance at the clubhouse and live-aboard lounge on Sunday night to celebrate the event and the Club's 20th anniversary (it's a long weekend, of course). There will be some sort of send-off breakfast on the Monday.
I plan to leave for Pickering Saturday morning, and to return on Monday (reasonably early). It would be truly great if everybody could come for the weekend, but coming for a part (especially the races!) would be very welcome. Unfortunately Nick is flying off to Manitoba tomorrow, but I'm going to work on Alex and Tim ... Dirk is tied up with an ``Angst Con" this weekend.
I've just spent the weekend at Pickering doing my three duty half-days in one go (docked the boat in front of the clubhouse, sat in the clubhouse doing the necessary chores Sat/Sun.), and it really is a friendly unpretentious little club. There is a hot tub and some sailing dinghies are available. This coming weekend should be a great opportunity to meet all kinds of people and to do some interesting sailing. Some helping out in the clubhouse would be in order, too.
So, please let me know as soon as possible whether you can come for all or any of this. Other persons could also be invited, but I'm sending this to you as the most regular and welcome of ``Somewhere's" crew. It would be wonderful if you can all come for most of the weekend. [Heck, bring work if supervisors are bugging you! We can even discuss thesis/project stuff; who knows, thinking aloud under sail may bring inspiration ... Or work extra hard this week and feel you deserve a break ;-) ].
Stefan
6 August 1996
Well, here's how it went ... On Saturday, I departed Ontario Place about 1000 hrs, sailing in light winds for an hour ... as far as Gibraltar Point. Rolled up the genny, turned on the iron jib, and motored all the way to Pickering. Arrived about 1600, got put in the slip next to ``Our Tern" (whose owners had an article in the latest GAM). My first order of business was to find a crew for Sunday. I took a stroll along the dock, and very quickly a crew materialised: Robyn, Steve (live-aboards), and Natalie, all with spouses working on Sunday. Natalie's father was crewing for Jeri on her C&C 27 ``Blaze" (more on that later...). Saturday evening was a barbecue and corn roast, but my memory is hazy since I was buying beer tickets at the bulk discount rate. Visitors were from Etobicoke, Whitby and Oshawa.
Sunday's forecast was for ``light and variable winds". That usually means no wind at all. After a fine breakfast, we headed out for the 1130 start. There was actually a bit of SW breeze. The start was quite confused because of a last-minute course change (shown by numbers on the committee boat), and the proper starting flag not being flown, so we were over very late. Still, we beat up the first leg and had caught up to ``Blaze" coming up to the mark, on a nice line on starboard tack, when ``Blaze" suddenly came about and crossed (stopped, actually) right in front of us. I called for ``turn left", Steve had already swung the tiller to turn right, and in the confusion we couldn't fetch the mark and wasted a lot of time. The wind chose this moment to die just where we were, while everybody ahead of us continued moving at a couple of knots. Of course, in a serious race we would have protested ``Blaze" to oblivion for at least two serious infractions ... but this was a laid back affair ... We completed the course at about two knots or less, with ``Tallenuf", an Aloha 34, ahead of us, and the rest of the field further ahead. The crew was very happy with the food and drinks.
The second race followed soon, and the start was actually breezy and fun. This time we had a good start, and one lap was completed nicely, but by the second rounding of the upwind mark the wind died for good. This time ``Blaze" was far behind, while we followed closely behind ``Tallenuf". Needless to say, the other 20 boats were ahead. On the final leg, we decided to go swimming, which was much faster than sailing; after the 1630 curfew, we turned on the motor and quit. No such luck for ``Blaze": it's motor quit as well as the wind, and they were towed in.
Sunday night was the ``dinner dance", actually just as casual as the barbecue but with live music (a self-accompanied singer, not too bad). Everybody had a great time, though I crashed out on the boat for a couple of hours. One of the club stalwarts, Sandy, produced her three teenage daughters and a friend, who really wanted to meet boys their own age. They all trooped off later to the live-aboard lounge for a sleep-over night of movies: I now have to tell my sons what total donkeys they were not to come.
Again, there was continental breakfast on Sunday morning, and I left about noon, after hauling out the dinghy and putting it on the rack. Tried sailing for an hour, but at only two or three knots. Motored home ... the SE wind never exceeded six knots, so even had I flown the spinnaker the sailing would have been slow... I didn't think single-handling a chute would be much fun ...
So, it was a nice weekend, and I'm really sorry you all missed it.
Stefan
| A WEEKEND AT ONTARIO PLACE |
Thursday 15th July: In the evening, Kathy announces she wants to come down on Saturday for her ``annual obligatory sail", to get away from her house for a while. This has worked not too badly the last couple of years, but it would be nice to have some crew along. The idea is welcomed.
Friday: It's a bit late in the week, appropriate crew are away or have made
plans, so I bribe Nick to come. But Nick is sailed out for now (thirty
hours of bashing from Main Duck to Cobourg do that to kids ...), and Kathy
is mainly interested in getting out into the lake and going for a swim, so
visions of motoring and not much sailing pop up.
Saturday: Horrendous traffic due to CNE opening with a parade, so we're all
a bit late (I was out getting beer). We eat lunch at the dock. I check gas,
down to 1/8th tank. We motor out in a nice southerly breeze, after failing
to get to the pump-out: a very large motorboat was parked there, everybody
was getting ice-cream. Great: ice-cream booth next to the pump-out.
I call for sail cover off. Protests from crew (and passenger). Sigh. I turn toward the Western Gap, we motor to the Centre Island gas dock. Rather officious young fellow recites the procedure (as though I don't know it ...). With a full tank, we motor up the Eastern Gap, then to the Aquatic Park anchorage in the Leslie Spit.
The water doesn't look too great, but we go swimming anyway. Not bad. Just after we get out, who should appear but ``Stone Pony" with Bill and Carolyn Ross (Bill's the Commodore of the Pickering Yacht Club, and Carolyn the Secretary), and Carolyn's son Rob. I invite them aboard ``Somewhere", extolling the size of my beer stash; turns out they're almost out, having been cruising for two weeks.
They come over in their dinghy. Kathy introduces herself as my ``ex-wife". A pleasant time is had, my beer supply gets diminished. We exchange photos, since I took some of them a few weeks ago, and they took photos of ``Somewhere" during the North Shore Cruising Challenge. I show my album; gunkhole-deprived Lake Ontarians are impressed by Georgian Bay shots.
People swim some more. Rob distinguishes himself by rowing to ``Stone Pony", and swimming back. He announces he's too tired to swim back for the dinghy ... Nick does the honours, and the Rosses are able to return to their ship in proper fashion. We observe the 51-footer ``Here & Now" make a stately entrance into the anchorage; that's the boat I slept on board after falling into the water at 2am one night two winters ago. I cook tacos for dinner.
By now it's dusk and Kathy is starting to worry about the other boys at home. We motor out of the anchorage, exchanging hellos with Tom and Karen on ``Here & Now" and its big raft-mates. In the middle of the outer harbour, I see an Albacore, becalmed, without lights. The occupants shout out to me, I turn down the motor. I turn toward them; protests from my passenger are over-ruled, one must always give assistance when possible. I feel a bit churlish, but didn't I swear some sort of pledge at the Power Squadron graduation? The Albacore would like a tow, to one of the dinghy clubs further up the harbour. They had ``misjudged the time" and now are stuck in the channel without navigation lights. I pass over my nice 100 foot painter, which is tied to the big dinghy's mast. I start towing at two or three knots. Twenty minutes later I leave them near their club, and resume motoring toward the Eastern Gap. Usual motor past the TO waterfront, in the dark. Fenders and docklines are attached while Nick steers and I look out for the ferries, party boats and other craft. It's a busy Sunday night. The cacophony from the party boats past the Western Gap drowns out the noise of the CNE. Why do people associate having a good time with music so loud that you can't have a conversation?
| YET ANOTHER WEEKEND |
Saturday: I remove the leaking galley pump. A bolt is broken. I find a replacement bolt at Active Surplus, which the cashier gives me for free. I give small change to the beggar outside. Install pump. Still leaks. Remove pump, tighten bolts, re-install. Put water in tank. Pump still leaks! Remove pump again ... replacement time? In the evening it's the grad students' party.
Sunday: Today I intend to socialize at the marina. But by the time I get up and shower, the wind is singing and the mast is shaking. It's a glorious day for sailing. A quick check of the working jib, carefully packed in Cobourg, produces no sign of what I had thought was a frayed foot. I need good crew for twenty+ knots. I phone Sara: not enough time before her usual Sunday soccer game. So I go down the dock to find Jeff to see if the social crowd will come for a sail (a dubious proposition for first-time sailors; it should be a wild ride.) Turns out that Chris, another live-aboard, has come in on ``Gulliver" (a Corbin 39 with a huge flush deck). I sit with Jeff and Chris in ``Gulliver's" ocean-going cockpit; Chris recounts his not very profitable attempts to market his book of ribald sailing cartoons over the Net ( http://www.pathcom.com/~work/bent/ ). Conventional channels are working better ...
I ask if he has done much sailing lately. ``Nah. Working too much. But the boat will be paid off in a couple of years. Then I can GO!". He regrets lack of crew: he broke up recently with his girlfriend of 4 years. Doesn't want to cruise single-handed... These guys aren't going to sail today, maybe tomorrow. I look out at the magnificent sailing beyond the breakwater: ``I'm going to make another phone call". I'm going to call Cren from my boat. Where's Marcin?
I walk back up the dock. Walking towards me is Nick. I reach ``Somewhere", Kathy is there again, post-CNE. I try to talk Nick into crewing: no go, he's still sailed out. Kathy suggests an off-shore swim: I provide a brief tutorial on Man Overboard in One Metre Waves ... Visions of sailing are rapidly vanishing. I'm invited to visit with the boys and cook up steaks. How can I argue with that? Some beer is drunk. I lug a case of empties and walk past ``Gulliver", its wide deck now adorned with Paula's social crowd. That's where I had originally planned to be.
The barbecue is a success, the boys are pleased. We'll sail another day.
| DAYSAILS |
There have been many daysails this summer, some very memorable, such as the time Dirk, Cren and I ran into a rain squall off Ontario Place, or when Sara, Justin, Slawek and Anna flew the spinnaker with me on a perfect day. Perhaps the following item from my e-mail files captures the spirit:
Subject: Re: Air Show !
To: poirier@astro.utoronto.ca (Sara Poirier)
Date: Fri, 30 Aug 1996 15:38:43 -0400 (EDT)
Hi Sara:
It would be really great if you could bring your mother and sister
down for the Air Show and a sail (at least a sail!). Omar will be
coming tomorrow, I'm still waiting for more replies. I can promise
a really nice dinner at the usual anchorage and return by moonlight...
the weather forecast is very good. Do try to persuade them! (I can't
think of a nicer way to spend a Saturday in Toronto, can you?)
Stefan
| THE CROSS-LAKE THING |
At the end of September, there was a trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake, with a night out at the theatre as the goal. It also was a fantastic sail. Here's my account to Dirk, who couldn't come:
To: dfischr@alumni.ysu.edu (Dirk John Fischer)
Date: Sat, 12 Oct 1996 00:37:24 -0400 (EDT)
Hi Dirk!
Sorry I haven't written for a while, I've been very busy.
One of these days I'll write up more of my log .I went to the LO300
Beer night, had a nice time, though it was Day 1 of my bout with
the flu ... I have a plaque to send to you (we got one each).
The next morning (at noon, actually), we left for Niagara on
the Lake. The crew for this trip was Marcin and his friend Vicky (I
think you probably know her), Cren, and Chris Nott (a student on the
eve of leaving for Vancouver, whom Cren very much wanted along). It
was a long story of assorted bungles as to why Sara bailed out and
Chris came on ... but it actually worked out well.
The trip was fantastic, beam reach both ways in 25-30 knot wind! At
NOTL, we went to the Shaw Festival play "Rashomon". On the Sunday we
returned in 4 hours 20 minutes DOCK to DOCK!!! We were making 7 knots
a good part of the way (yup, "Somewhere" was heeling). Flying spray,
2-3 metre waves, shipping it green quite often. Working jib, single-
reefed main, and we didn't need a stitch more.
Next day I stayed in bed. Of course, I also tried to stay in
bed on the Saturday, but unfortunately a couple of quick visits to
the head were called for (I guess I'd have to call it "feeding the
holding tank" ...).
Tomorrow is my annual migration to Pickering. My crew will
be Sara, Harmony and Sara's roommate Teresa. The weather forecast is
excellent. I hope this will be a fitting substitute for Sara's missed
trip. [...]
Stefan