Teething troubles

 We managed to get back to Greece in early June, on the first available flight from San Francisco to Frankfurt. It was interesting: masks all the way, a coronavirus test in Athens airport, two nights in isolation in a quarantine hotel (at public expense and with meals delivered in paper bags) until the tests came back negative, then off to our island for another five days of self-quarantine. By the end of June I had bought a trailer and a two-stroke air-cooled 2.5 hp outboard (basically a weed whacker with a propeller at the end) and registered trailer and engine. On the 4th of July the good vessel Sophia-Andreas was launched. She is very stable and tracks straight, and I love her lines.

However, the problems started immediately. The gas controller on the outboard broke (it was installed backwards, high was low and vice versa, we were lucky not to get hurt) and I ordered the part and replaced it. Also she was taking on water. I found that one of the trailer rollers exerted too much pressure on the bottom and cracked the second chine plywood. I fixed and strengthened the chine and tested for other leaks. After two rounds of waterproofing, the leak persisted with the second and third launches.

Meanwhile the rig needed adjusting. The breeze can get very stiff quickly in the Mediterranean and I found that a plain piece of line for a sheet was too hard to handle. I rigged a traveler system with blocks and it became manageable, but the boat would not tack. I asked for advice on the Wooden Boat forum, and people blamed the full-length narrow external keel and attached skeg. I ignored the advice to take a chainsaw to it but shortened the traveler and prepared for other small adjustments. Then our daughter and grandson came for three weeks and I put everything on hold to spend time with them. 

The rig is a single sprit sail with a brailing line. I found that brailing depowers the sail almost instantly, but in a stiff wind the clew flaps and creates serious wind resistance. I figured out a way to secure the clew by tying it to the mast with the end of the brailing line. The boat, having a bit less freeboard than Aerie and a generous skeg, is very efficient at rowing. 

Just as I was preparing to do another launch, there was a doozy of a thunderstorm that poured enough water on to tear the cover and fill the bottom to a sizeable depth. It took this rainwater to show me the most serious source of leakage: the pressure of the roller had also cracked the epoxy fillet at the seam between garboard and second chine.

I am having some people come over to take the boat off the trailer and flip it again. I will repair the seam, and equally importantly, will replace the rollers with cradle boards to distribute the weight. I think I know why the damage happened (the winch was attached too high on the stem and exerted too much downward pressure, something I have fixed) but I am not taking any more chances.

Dry Run

Since the last post I spent three very enjoyable weeks in Greece, my place of birth, on the ancestral island where I plan to retire at some point.  Since I came back I have tried to finish the new rig and try it out on dry land.  Here is a photo of it.  In the second photo (bottom right) you can see the jib attached to the forestay with jibhanks and its tack clipped to the bowsprit.  The stay connecting the bowsprit to the hull is not fastened because the winch is in the way: when launching it will need to be the last thing done before she floats off.

There are a couple of things missing in the first photo.  One is reef lines, which I will add before re-launch.  The other is the luff toggles (in lieu of mast hoops) of which there are four: they are there but are not fastened, since they bind on the mast and make pulling on the throat halyard to deploying the mainsail difficult.  I will have to use a piece of light line tied to the gaff jaws  to remedy the situation.

The other thing I found out while trying the rig is that I should not clip the topping lift to the boom before the sail is up: every time the peak halyard snaphook managed to clip itself to the topping lift and get fouled.  That's too bad, because the topping lift could have kept the gaff and boom in place while I deploy the sail.  Now I will have to clip it in place afterwards.

The third photo (bottom left) shows yours truly holding on the the mainsheet (notice the rudder is missing, I didn't think it necessary for this tryout).  You can see the 4x purchase tackle made of four separate single blocks: one with becket, two plain and one pivot.  All are secured with loops of line.  Behind the sail you can see the outline of the topping lift.

Remaining steps include repainting the decking and touching up parts of the hull, and building a couple of crutches for the mast that fit where the cat ketch masts used to.  Maybe next weekend I can re-launch.  We'll see.

boatbuilder

The new rig

The last thrilling experience sailing Aerie on Lake Erie ended with a cracked mast: the mainmast bent so much in strong winds that it delaminated at a scarf joint four feet above the mast step.  I was faced with a choice among several not too satisfactory options, all discussed with the good folks at the Wooden Boat Forum.  The masts were too slender for unstayed operation in strong wind.  I could repair the mast and reinforce it with fiberglass tape at the joints, but that would create stiffer parts that could lead to breaks elsewhere.  I could use a fiberglass sleeve (too expensive and would lead to cracks down the line).  I could use a forestay and shrouds, which would interfere with the turning of the yard and negate the simplicity of the unstayed cat ketch rig.  I could build a thicker, stronger mast, which would be hard to drop into its partner hole in the foredeck.  I could replace the masts with aluminum tubes, which would be expensive and require new tools and skills such as pop-riveting.  Or re-rig the boat completely.

I had already had many problems and confusions with rigging the two masts: two each of halyards, snotters, downhauls and sheets that had to be lying on the correct side and not fouling each other.  So I thought, if I have to build a new mast, why not be bold?  In the end I decided to switch to a gaff sloop rig, which will take a good amount of time to set up before launch, but will be sturdy and less prone to confusion and mishap during launch and sailing.

I went back to pencil and paper and designed the new rig to be balanced, with only the slightest bit of weather helm.  Here’s the sketch, a bit messy but fine for my purposes.  Mainsail is about 80 square feet (7.2 square meters) and jib about half the size.

16 foot studs being a readily available size of lumber, I settled on a 16-foot-long, 3-inch thick mast made from two studs glued together.  The bottom tapers to 2¼ inches to fit into a mast step secured to the keel batten.  The top has only a very slight taper since the hounds are quite high up.  Forestay and shrouds will be 1/8-inch synthetic rope (amsteel blue, which is stronger than steel and does not require expensive tools such as cutter and crimper) with eye splices at both ends: the top ones loop around the mast through oak pad eyes, the bottoms around steel thimbles, attached to steel turnbuckles.  The turnbuckles attach to steel straps bolted to the hull or bowsprit (everything is stainless of course).

The mast partner has a jaw-shaped slot for the mast, and will be secured with bolts and glue to the main bulkhead.  It is laminated from three layers of 1x8 pine and one of 3/8-inch plywood.  The mast will be secured with an oak piece bolted through the partner.

A gaff sloop needs a jib, so I designed a 78-inch-long, 2¼ inch thick bowsprit laminated from three layers of 1x3 lumber.  It has a slot that fits over the bow extension which I had built in for just this eventuality.  It will be secured to the bow extension with a pin.  Its aft end fits into a brace bolted to the aft end of the foredeck.  The forestay will be attached to its forward tip, which is secured to the lower bow with more line.

The mainsail is a classic gaff trapezoid, attached to an 8-foot gaff and an 11-foot boom.  It will have two sets of reef lines.  Since my original main mast came apart right near the 8-foot mark (second photo), I decided to cut it to 8 feet and repurpose it as a gaff, with jaws made of oak and plywood and a parrel line with plastic beads.  

The mizzen mast, shortened only slightly, will serve as the boom.  I will be reusing a leftover gooseneck I experimented with on my original boat.  The boom will have a sheave at the clew end for a clew outhaul, and will be controlled by a mainsheet with a 4:1 purchase just aft of its middle.

The jib is a simple triangle and will be clipped onto the forestay.  The running rigging will consist of three halyards (throat and peak for the gaff, and jib) and two sheets (main and jib), plus a topping lift to assist with rigging and reefing.  A total of seven blocks (three for halyards and four for mainsheet), eight snap hooks and assorted cleats will be needed.  Most hardware will be repurposed from the original rig; I only had to buy one block with a becket and two open clam cleats.  I decided that it is important to have different-colored lines so inexperienced crew can be given simple directions.

I have already bought most materials and hardware except for some sailmaking supplies and line for the running rigging.  My new suppliers (and they are good and responsive) are LFS Marine & Outdoor (good purveyors of amsteel rope and related hardware) and Duckworks Boat Buiilders Supply (who stock parrel beads for gaff jaws, of all things, sailmaking supplies and good, inexpensive chandlery).  The budget is about $350, or more if I run out of epoxy.

Next I’ll be talking about adventures in boat carpentry, so keep rading 176inches.

boatbuilder

Launch day!

Today I launched the boat and sailed her, after a few adventures.  Last Tuesday I had her inspected by the state Department of Watercraft, in a parking lot of a grocery store in a university town 25 miles away (long story).  The officer had no issues and was very complimentary.  So, while the title and registration are in process, and armed with a temporary permit, I asked my friend Michael, who is from coastal Maryland and an experienced sailor, to come out with me today.  It was just as well, because as it turns out the boat is very difficult to rig and get under way.  Things will get easier with practice, but there's no going around that it is a two-person boat.  We were extremely busy (and I was stressed out), and we had no friends in another boat, so we only took a few photos, and many of them were bad.  So only two this time, I'm afraid.

So we drove to Marblehead and launched at Dempsey's State Fishing Area, a nice place with a breakwater/ fishing pier and four launch ramps with floating docks.  I had a printed checklist, and all went well at first: I had stepped the main mast (near the bow) and roved the main halyard and snotter, put on the yard toggle etc.  Lauch was easy and the boat proved to be very stable, with each person being able to step in with little rocking. She also sat in the water exactly where I expected her to.

Then we rowed out into the bay and I tried to rig the mizzen.  I realized something was wrong: the yard lay backwards.  Turns out that I had used the mizzen sail and sprit on the main and vice versa.  Because the main mast is very hard to step while in the boat, there was no avoiding it: we had to row back in and fix things.  Unfortunately we had drifted some way away, plus there was a real traffic jam at the ramps, even with four of them.  Well, eventually we docked her, unstepped the masts, switched the halyards, sails and all, and started again.  The breeze by now was a good 15 to 18 mph.  Long story short, we got under way, and the crazy thing can really fly!  She seemed to prefer a beam reach, and to dislike sailing close to the wind.  Here I am looking like a fat slob (I have lost 16 pounds and I'm in good shape, honest!), sunburned, and worried.  But I'm OK, and you can see the mechanics of the mizzen mast and sail.

Then we tried to tack.  Ready about, helm's-a-lee, then nothing.  It flat-out stalled!  We tried again, nothing again.  At some point we had to wear (turn 270 degrees through a gybe) to go where we wanted.  By then my heart sank when I noticed water sloshing under the floorboards!  So Aerie clearly had sprung a leak.  A slow leak to be sure, but I had no bilge pump, courtesy of Wal-Mart which falsely claimed they had one, and then it was too late to find it elsewhere.  And with the water under the boards I couldn't use the bailer either.

So a leaky boat that could not tack.  Great.  I was getting very discouraged.  Fortunately Michael (here he is, looking unflappable, with a good view of the mainsail) had (and always has) a positive attitude.  Poor guy, he had never had to deal with such complicated traditional rigging, but I couldn't have done it without him.  Then I tried to tighten the tack downhauls, which had gotten loose.  Bingo!  The boat tacked fine and sailed pretty close to the wind.  I was too preoccupied to actually measure angles but the day was saved.  We were on the water for about three hours and we didn't take on all that much water, but we called it a day since we were exhausted anyway.  After a nice picnic in the shade we came home. 

To summarize:

• Aerie  has a leak.  After retrieval I found it, and it's through the joint between CB trunk and garboard.  Nothing that some epoxy compound and caulk won't fix.  Unfortunately the supposedly watertight buoyancy compartments also took on some water, so I have to dry them out and seal them with caulk this time.  Clearly epoxy compound leaves invisible holes for water to come through.
• Rigging her is a pain, and a lot of things can go wrong.  It takes two people to do it.  On a calm day she could be rigged at the dock, but since the mizzen partner is also the rowing thwart,  I would need a motor, which I dont intend to get (yet, anyway).
• She rows very well, but the high sides and nine-foot oars make her not a real row boat.
• She is very dry (well, except the leak anyway), weatherly, stable and stiff.  She has little leeway, and a slight weather helm, which is exactly how I designed her.
• She can really fly on a moderate breeze.
• The tacks, and especially the mizzen one, need to be tightly hauled down.  I had been warned many times in books and web articles, but I didn't realize that the consequence would be inability to tack.
• I need to clearly label yards and sprits so I don't repeat the stupid mistakes of today.
• Finally, the masts, slender and bendy as they are, performed fine and showed no appreciable bending in the wind.  This could change in a much stronger wind, but for now I am very pleased.

All in all, it could have gone better, but when does it ever, really, on the first shakedown cruise?

P.S.  Just as were coming in, a man on a big, scary looking black twin-hull boat ordered us to turn ours into the wind and wait.  It was a Dept. of Watercraft boat with two (armed, judging by the guy who inspected Aerie on Tuesday) officers on board, who had noticed we didn't have registration numbers and tags on the hull.  I showed them the temporary tag and they were all polite and everything and congratulated me on how great my Aerie looked.  I actually appreciated that they are there, earning their salaries and paying attention, perhaps catching a dangerous drunk or two.  In South Carolina they were nowhere to be seen.

The running rigging

The boat is now fully rigged!  Here it is (first photo) , and it bears a strong resemblance to the hand drawn sketch I included back on November 24, only it looks much better.  Rigging it for the first time was a complicated process with lots of errors in the sequence and fouled lines.  I will have to practice and write a checklist, then practice again so I can get it to be second nature.

This long post is about the running rigging, the edifice of line (rope), blocks (pulleys), cleats (rope tie-offs or stops) and snaphooks that keeps everything in controlled working order.  The boat's masts are unstayed, so there is no standing rigging at all.  With the boat's rig being entirely home-designed and -made, as well as so old-timey as to be almost unknown in sailing circles, it remains to be seen how it works.  Apologies to all non-sailors for the avalanche of technical terms.  I try to explain as I go but it's quite the task.

Materials
I used six types of line for the running rigging and other uses.  Low-stretch 5mm Dyneema for the halyards, 1/4 inch line (braided over core) for the sheets, tack downhaulsand snotters (this one a cheaper line left over from my previous efforts), 3/16 inch braid for the sail lacing and the centerboard (CB) and rudder lines, 1/4 inch twisted cord for painter and yard toggles, and 3/16 inch clothesline (!) for the reefing lines.  I will also need at least 75 ft of line for the anchor, but I'll buy that later.

I used a total of 12 blocks.  Most of them are simple loop ones; there are four pivoting ones for the four sheet ends, two larger ones for the halyards, and one cheek block.  The halyard blocks at the masttops are tied with double loops of line and fishermen's knots to wooden eyepads that I fixed there with screws and glue (second photo--sorry, don't know how to rotate it).  I also used four horn cleats (halyards and tack downhauls), six clam cleats (sheets and snotters) and two v-jam cleats (CB and rudder).

Lacing and halyards

First thing I did was lace the sails to their yards.  First the throat and peak (the fore and aft top corners) were tied to the ends of the yards through holes I had drilled.  Then I laced the head of the sail to the yard through the grommets.  It was my opportunity to practice knots.  Never having been a scout (my dad didn't let me, saying they were a fascist organization, which was true in Greece in his boyhood), I have learnt knotting solely for my sailing needs, and I am not too good at it.  Still, I soldiered on while connected to the Internet for quick references.  I used fishermen's and reef knots for peak and throat respectively, plus a row of marline hitches with a running bowline at one end and a double clove hitch at the other for the lacing.  Time will tell how well I did.

Halyards serve to haul the sail and its yard (hence the name) up the mast.  I had planned to attach them to the yards using Jim Michalak's "loose noose" method, in which the halyard wraps around both the yard and the mast and is clipped to itself, with roller beads to ease the friction.  But then I remembered that the yard has to clear the snotter block on the mast, so I tried two new things.  First I used the Goat Island Skiff method of running the halyard through a block (which I lashed to the yard) and around the mast.  That proved unbalanced, and I was short of blocks anyway, so I went back to my original idea of simply tying the halyard to the yard with a double constrictor hitch, and securing the yard to the mast with a toggle.  The toggles for both yards required a total of eight of my old friends, the eyesplices.  More to do but marlinspike work is a good way to pass a quiet evening (thanks to David Nichols' book for both the idea of toggles and for teaching me the skills).  Also they required two wooden eyepads per yard, as opposed to one for the loose noose.  Here is a photo of the finished product (third photo).  Clean, traditional and practical.    The main halyard goes through a cheek block and is cleated close to the forward splashguard.  However, pulling on the halyard twists the mast in its partner and loosens the halyard.  I have to find a way of stopping that.  The mizzen halyard does not have that problem, since it is cleated directly on the mast. 

Control lines

The snotter (which holds up the sprit boom and controls its tension) is attached to the sprit by threading it through a drilled hole and secured with a knot.  It is then threaded through a block attached to the mast with a steel eyestrap, then cleated off; there is an extra block on the foredeck to change the direction of the mainsail snotter (fourth photo). The sprit boom (which bisects the lower sail and holds it taut) is clipped to the clew (the aft lower corner of the sail) with a snaphook, which is secured to the sprit's aft end with an eyescrew.  When reefing, this clew snaphook has to be clipped to the cunnningham (uh, I give up).  If this proves too difficult, I can always use a line through the cunningham to do the same thing.  It took several fittings to find the right length for the sprits, especially so they don't foul each other when they go about: the clearance of the mainsail's clew from the mizzen snotter is smaller than I had designed.

The tack downhaul line, which secures the forward lower corner of the sail to the hull, is attached to the foredeck (mainsail) or to the underside of the mast partner/thwart (mizzen).  It goes through a snaphook clipped to the tack, giving a 2:1 purchase, and is cleated off.  When reefing, the downhaul needs to be clipped to the new (reef) tack.  Again, if needed, I will devise some sort of line system to avoid having to unclip and clip again.

The sheets (despite their name, they are ropes that control the sail's orientation) are double-ended.  They go through a block near the aft end of each sprit, tied through a wooden eyepad, then a block and a cleat on each side.  The main sprit is actually upside down in the photo--I had threaded the snotter the wrong way, but I fixed it since.  Mainsheet blocks and cleats are fixed to the rowing thwart; the blocks are secured to little wooden extensions glued to the thwart's underside (fifth photo).  The influence of B&B Yacht Designs is gratefully acknowledged.  I needed to use bullseyes for the mizzen sheet to change direction so I could cleat off the ends on the splashguards (last photo).

The CB and the rudder blade are kept in the down position with bungee cord, and are lifted with lines that are cleated off.  The CB line has a block to change its direction so I can cleat it at the aft end of the CB trunk.

Miscellaneous

In all I also had to use eight wooden eyepads, seven stainless steel eyestraps, and a lot of screws: 46 just for these rigging items, plus 18 for the inspection ports and 36 for the hinges.  The hull carpentry of course required hundreds of bronze wood screws and two lbs of bronze ringshank nails.  Not to mention 3.5 gallons of epoxy, three quarts of paint and two quarts of spar varnish.  Or all the plywood and lumber, and the lead shot for ballast.  I haven't calculated the total cost yet, since there were so many mail-order suppliers and trips, large and small, to the hardware store.  But there will be a final reckoning, which I will publish soon, along with the boat's vital statistics.