| Racing again! |
[Sep. 12th, 2011|03:54 pm] |
The club races of Bergen Seilskøyteklubb are shaping up to be great events! Having been cancelled the last few years due to low participation, I am very happy that the two races I have organized this summer had 7 and 8 participating boats, respectively. Notably, while we started carefully with a sunny single-day sail in June (followed by dinner in downtown Bergen afterwards), this second sail had far less holiday feel. Two hard days of racing to Tysnes and back: The cut-off was at 8pm on Saturday, and 5pm on Sunday, noon start both days.
We spent all of Saturday beating to windwards (against the current) in light, shifty winds. While these conditions favored the lighter Bermuda-rigged boats, it was also clear that a lot of skill was required to make the boats go fast. In particular, the ability to judge the wind-shifts before they arrive (in tortous fjords!), certainly influenced the race as well! In the end, Magnus and I worked hard all day and pushed Lady Free as fast as we knew how, but had to see ourselves beaten by two Bermuda-rigged boats. However, being among the only three boats to complete the course, placed us in good company. While we would have loved to be closer to the winners, considering we were racing a gaff-rigged boat in our first race with lots of windward work, we were happy enough with the day’s work when the evening drinks and chatter went around.
Sunday was a different race all together, with light to moderate (force 4 at most) winds varying from beam reach to dead downwind. The course zigzagged homewards with 3+ jibes along the way, depending on course, with the shortest course measuring 21 miles. In these conditions, Lady Free had every chance. With my nephew on board as extra crew, we quickly decided to sail with topsail in order to maximize our speed. Unfortunately, hoisting the topsail bot botched by a poor knot on the topsail sheet, so we had to drop the topsail and main to resheet, with only 15 minutes to go before the race start! Nevertheless, all sails were up at the start, although we missed the line by a few minutes. We were able to keep good boat speed all day, hardly falling below 5 knots in the lulls and sailing 8 to 8.5 knots for most of the race. It felt really good to edge ahead of the fleet, and it soon became clear that the question was no longer if we would be able to finish first, but if our time would be good enough to compensate for our relatively high handicap rating. Unfortunately, at a point in the course where we could choose between a shorter or windier route, we chose the longer and windier one to be on the safe side and avoid the risk of being stuck in a lull. This turned out to be a mistake, as the later boats that chose the shorter route reported that there had been no problems with the wind. After all boats were in, we had won the race by 11 minutes on the clock, but ended up in 3rd place again on the official lists. We would have had to sail 8 minutes faster yet to win.
Back in the harbor, we had plenty opportunity to talk to the other sailors, and the response was uniformly enthusiastic. Everyone enjoyed the sailing, the challenge, and the chance to see all the other boats with all the canvas hoisted. I can only attest to that seeing the whole fleet of traditional sailboats with all sails up is a spectacular view. Perfect!
(Pictures taken by Balder, the adjudication boat) |
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| Summer of content |
[Sep. 8th, 2011|07:32 pm] |
The blog has been a bit on hold, not so much because there was nothing to write (there was!), but perhaps because there was too much happening, both in terms of boats and other stuff. As summer comes to an end, it is time to summarize some of the main highlights, admitting that this year the details may get lost from the record.
Lady Free
The lady herself is in good shape, though not without hard labor. This winter and summer, I’ve had engine troubles (learned a lot!), a rotten mast (temporarily fixed through dangling 12 meters above sea surface for three days – will be replaced this winter), replaced much of what was left of lacquered surfaces with tar/oil mixture, completed Stage 1 and Stage 2 of my hot water/radiator project in the interior (four stages total), and successfully accepted delivery of new sails. Niet Slecht, as they would say in Holland.
Grace
Grace is safe, for now. Building on the hard work of last fall, my brother and I spent two more weekends logging timber and building a temporary shed over her. This has kept her dry all summer, and there is no reason to believe that the construction should not be more than strong enough to keep her safe for as long as is needed. It is still a bit sad that she is not in use, but it is good to know that at least she is safe from the elements, ready to be put to use again as soon as the right conditions arise.
Dinghies
Both dinghies have got some repair and maintenance, and can be said to be in better shape that same time last year. In particular, I practiced my fiber-glass skills on my fiber-glass dinghy, and went over some of the wood-work again on the wooden dinghy. No surprises, in other words!
Sailing
Lots of good sailing has taken place. I’d say I get out for a spin on average once a week, with many of the trips simply being short sails of a few hours. Additionally, two longer trips were completed, on par with last summer. Hard to estimate total sailing distance for the season, but it would probably tally up to about 1200 miles if I had kept count.
In particular, we had a nice three-week vacation sailing south from Bergen, as far as to the southernmost point of Norway: Lindesnes. Rounding the many exposed stretches between Bergen and Lindesnes, we had the pleasure of experiencing Lady Free and the ocean working together in everything from no wind at all to rather windy conditions with quite agitated sea state. No major problems at all, although it should be mentioned that we managed to snap a boom-lift, like last summer. The other one this time, of course, and now I have replaced both, as was my intention to do all year…
On the way home, we spent some extra time in Rogaland, experiencing both Stavanger and the famous Lysefjorden, including a hike up from the fjord to the majestic Prekestolen. Fabulous.
We also had several chances to sail the dinghy (Mr. Free, as it is now affectionately named). It is a lot of fun sailing, but the over-sized square rig easily gets overpowered in gusty winds, particularly when tacking!
The second longer sail was north to Kalvåg, a beautiful 16 hours each way via Florø in good conditions. Unfortunately, there was little wind for the most part, so that more than 20 of those hours were spent with the engine on. Thus, the experiences were to be had with enjoying the scenery, fishing (I didn't catch all the fish in the picture myself, but I did catch the biggest one!), and shopping for Kinn beer in Florø.
Racing
As I’m writing this, the second and final race of the sailing season is about to go down this weekend. The first race, in June in the Bergen fjord, was unfortunately plagued with very light winds, so that only when a gentle breeze came after three hours of calm could the participating yachts complete a severely shortened course. Lady Free won line honors, finishing a full 15 minutes ahead of the field, but when the calculations came in, received only third place on corrected time. We’ll have better fortunes this weekend!
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| Grace! |
[Dec. 25th, 2010|06:33 pm] |
Christmas greetings from Grace come this year in the form of two pictures.
Good news: She's safely out of the water, and stands firmly on her keel.
Bad news: We still haven't built any winter clothing for her, so she's covered in snow.
This rounds off a fabulous year of sailing, I can only hope that next year brings me as much luck!
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| Winter sailing |
[Dec. 22nd, 2010|05:08 pm] |
The advantage of living on a boat is that you can go sailing any time. Unfortunately, due to busy times and a period of engine problems, I've not been in motion for a few weeks.
While it has been cold and snowy in Bergen for a while, I was not suspecting that the day I had planned for sailing would be the day with the heaviest snowfall so far this year! Nevertheless, Magnus and I braved the weather, and set out for a mid-day excursion to Hjellestad and back, with plenty time for refuelling, lunch, and chess at the half-way point.
The snow was falling steadily, and heavily, so the greatest challenges were seeing any land marks at all, and keeping our fingers warm. And, of course, avoiding slipping on the snow-covered deck.
While wind conditions confined us to using the engine as primary propulsion, the opportunity to hoist a sail could not pass by unused, and thus the staysail came up. Perhaps not the biggest contributor to our forward progress, but the source of great pleasure for the human resources.
With this, the season has officially come to an end, and sailing will not resume before January! |
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| Fall sailing |
[Nov. 2nd, 2010|05:56 pm] |
Loads of stuff happening - no time to write!
* Was transport ship for a nephew and a colleagues daughter to a optimist regatta (with their fathers as crew):
* Set three headsails as a gimmick on the way home:
* Tried the largest jib (the 75 m2 one).
* Had lots of sail practice near Bergen.
* Sailed with many friends.
* Not run aground.
* Ordered new lines all around.
* Repaired rotting sails.
* Ordered new sails.
* Tore the reef lines (the new out-hauls) of the two lowest reefs right after this picture:
* Put Grace on land on my brothers slip (including lumbering, sawing, building the slip, etc. - long story):
* Got engine trouble.
* Got towed by my dad.
* Started fixing engine trouble.
Still on the to-do list:
* Complete fixing engine trouble.
* Lots of rope-work.
* Insulate the deck better.
* Take the mast down for repair.
* Receive new sails.
* Have fun! |
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| Dinghy sailing! |
[Aug. 27th, 2010|08:29 pm] |
After several days of taring, it was finally time to sail again. A slightly messy proposition, since most of my lines had some amount of tar on them (note to self: Water running over tar takes some with it; Water gets filtered when running through lines, leaving tar behind).
Such it was, when Angie helped me assemble the bowsprit and gaff, before we headed out in light winds from Straume. Fortunately, a beam reach sent us in the direction of the cabin, so we adopted this destination and made a good 6.5 to 7 knots in the light breeze. The bowsprit practice also payed off: If someone helps steer and gives a hand with the bowsprit, I can now get all sails down and retract the bowsprit in about 15 minutes. Not too shabby.
A retracted bowsprit makes docking at the cabin much more realistic, and although it took us two tries to make an (admittedly quite shabby) approach, we arrived safely.
So, what about the dinghy? We towed it with us, and it got good use as a vessel for unsuccessful fishing in the evening. It definitely rows well, even when only using one set of oars.
More importantly, when Angie was leaving, the wind seemed perfect for sailing across the fjord to the ferry dock. That is to say, 1 mile rowing to find some wind, then almost 2 miles sailing. Great fun! The little bugger sets off in the gentle breeze, and even though our free-board is quite low, she easily maneuvers the waves over to Sandvikvåg. Not quite the 7 knots Lady Free might have fetched, but probably not far from 4. Even better, we sailed past my parents, which allowed for a brief photo-op.
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| Tar, tar, everywhere |
[Aug. 24th, 2010|02:58 pm] |
I've spent the weekend and Monday doing some maintenance:
* Removed bowsprit from boat, and polished off varnishing and impregnated with tar.
* Removed topsail spar and gaff from boat and added new coat of tar.
* New coat of tar on various small items on deck (Randi did this).
* New coat of tar on mast.
* New coat of tar on cabin walls (Randi did this too).
Most of the tar was diluted in various ways. Hopefully, after taking notes and comparing, I will have more knowledge next time I go ahead and do this.
Experience so far:
* Taking all loose parts off was not hard, and doing as much as possible of work indoors is a huge advantage in Bergen.
* Tar needs at least some dilution.
* The job is quite quick. All the tar work put together did not take much more time than getting off the old varnish from the bowsprit.
* The mast has some non-trivial rot damage. This will definitely be an issue in future posts...
In sum, I'm quite pleased so far. In a couple of days I'll put the spars back on, and then I'm back in business. Eventually, I'm sure that the tar will harden somewhat too... |
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| Topsail |
[Aug. 15th, 2010|11:41 pm] |
Today, I hoisted the topsail for real. With perfect topsail conditions (gentle, stable wind), I figured it would be safe despite having no crew.
The huge wall of canvas formed by the main and topsail is quite impressive. Not just for me, but an old man in a wooden motorboat was so impressed he came up next to me just to say how awesome my sails looked.
Most of the sail from Bergen to Straume was dead downwind, and while I broad reached/jibed my way down for sanity, speeds were quite moderate. Nevertheless, the topsail was the hero of the day. While the headsails were hanging limp, and the main barely lifting, the topsail was full the whole way.
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| Kalvåg - Alden - Bergen |
[Aug. 13th, 2010|06:42 pm] |
Two days with light winds, and some experiences along the way. Total travel time south from Kalvåg was 23 hours, of which I managed to sail about 60%. The rest of the time, there was literally no wind.
I spent the night at Alden, an island consisting exclusively of a mountain shaped like a horse (known, therefore, as "The Norwegian Horse"). It has a tiny bay in one of the horses armpits, where a total of five people live. Hiking the mountain is supposedly fantastic. Unfortunately, the day I came in and moored at their dock, one of the five villagers had ordered a shuttle service at 8:30am next morning, chasing me off my dock before I had time to go for the hike.
And with beautiful and sunny weather, I decided to head south in stead of returning to port.
The final day sailing south was quite luscious, with clear skies and hot sun the whole day. I rigged some lines so that I could steer the boat from anywhere on deck, and found myself a nice cool spot on the fore deck with great views.
Coming in Fedjefjorden, I tossed out some lure, in hopes of catching something. After a while the line seemed rather heavy, but I wasn't sure if it was only because the breeze (and boat speed) had picked up. When I finally hauled the lure, not only had I caught a small mackerel, but I was also towing seaweed. I guess my arms are not too sensitive when it comes to the weight of a fishing line.
Sailing was somewhat tricky coming in to Bergen, and it was getting late, so I wasted no time cooking, and had mackerel sashimi for dinner. Freshest sashimi I've ever had, and pretty much the tastiest too. My only regret is that my filleting skills are in such a state that a significant portion of good fish went with the waste.
Arriving safely in Bergen a little after sunset, I came alongside one of the original rescue vessels by Colin Archer, the RS 28 Sandefjord. What an honor to be next one of these historic vessels! The couple on board were also extraordinary friendly.
Distances these two days were 29.2 and 66.8 miles for a total of 636.8 miles. Almost back to my starting point, although I might take a detour to a music festival tomorrow. |
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| Stad, again |
[Aug. 11th, 2010|12:39 am] |
One day, I can brag to my grand kids (or someone else's) that I single-handedly sailed a Colin Archer around Stad. No using engine, no autopilot: just a man, his ship, and a lot of ropes.
Passing Måløy, I noticed that they not only have a nice view over Helgelandet, but also that one of the fishermen has decided to paint his boat pink!
Right now, I'm more worried about the fact that I was too optimistic in terms of getting to Kalvåg before dark. When I got into the harbor, I couldn't see anything, and the wind picked up, so I defaulted to "let's tie up to whatever is closest and looks vacant". Also, the wind picked, so for the second time this trip, I came to with the opposite side of the boat from what I intended. Last time, I did a flip with the stern to the dock, this time with the bow. Some day I'll to it on purpose.
Once I had a line on land, I realized that this is the ambulance dock. Damn. I'm trying to be as small as I can, using less than half the dock, but still I have a bad conscience. Not to mention the fine I'll get if some poor lady dies because the ambulance boat gets delayed. Hopefully, everyone will be healthy tonight, and I'll move first thing in the morning.
Distance yesterday: 27.2 miles. Distance today: 53.6 miles. Total: 540.8 miles. Not far at all back to Bergen, and I'll do it nice and slowly, sailing as much as the weather permits.
There is lightning outside tonight. |
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| Homeward bound |
[Aug. 8th, 2010|11:59 pm] |
I spent a yesterday at Veidholmen. What a lovely place. Unfortunately, I spent most of my day mending the mail sail, drying out all my interior stuff, splicing the boom lift, rigging a spare block for my staysail sheet tackle, and attempting in vain to fix the autopilot.
Good news: All my rigging repairs worked out, and the boat is in no worse shape then when I set out to sea.
Bad news: The rigging was obviously not seaworthy when I set to sea.
Mixed news: I'm inside the warranty on my autopilot, so I assume I'll get it fixed. Even better, being forced to get to Bergen single-handed without an autopilot will force me to learn much more about handling an 18 ton gaffer.
While in the mast, I was at the same hight as the balcony of one of the boat-house-converted-to-hotel-rooms. On it, there was about 10 bikers from eastern Norway, on their annual trip to Veidholmen. They waved an smiled (yes, they were drinking), and asked if they could come aboard. Me being aloft indicated that a little later might be fine, and that they should bring a drink. No sooner had I eased myself down before I had 10 biker lads and ladies on board. They were suitably impressed with the boat, and brought me the beer I'm drinking. Later, when I went to the restaurant for my whale-stew dinner, they invited me to dine at their table. The leader of the gang indicated that they were very thankful for being allowed aboard, and wished to return the favor.
I got to hitch a ride on a Honda 1800 Gold Wing. Absolutely crazy. Not only that, Veidholmen is connected by the most spectacular road that jumps from islet to islet toward the main island, alternating between the top of breakwaters and 16 meter bridges. All the way it is the blend of tiny village life and spectacular views. Even though we only went for a 10-minute ride, it was a great trip.
Today, I had a 15 hour motor/sail down again to Ålesund. Not much winds, but I hoisted what canvas I dared (medium jib, small staysail, full main) when a small breeze came along, and easily made 5+ knots on a beam reach in what cannot have been much more than 5 knots wind. Unfortunately, the wind died again after only an hour or two, so I spent more than 12 hours motoring today total.
Safely in Ålesund, I took the opportunity of some calm water around the gas station to practice prop-walking. I'm not at the level of the fishermen in Veidholmen, but I'm sensing progress in my boat-handling skills.
Total distance: 470 miles. Left to Bergen: about 180 with the sheltered coastal route. I'm assuming I wont't do something stupid and take a detour to Shetland. |
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| Lady Free and the Norwegian Sea |
[Aug. 6th, 2010|04:59 pm] |
I was tired of waiting for the wind, so I decided to sail to see to look for it. More precisely, the weather forecast indicated a wind shift to the south early Friday morning, and I wanted to be out there to get the most of it. So I sailed out around 1pm on a long tack north-north-west into the Norwegian Sea.
It was lovely. Sun, a fabulous boat, only double-reefed main and staysail yet 5-6 knots, and plenty of food in the boat.
Soon the waves started to build, but Lady Free kept sailing through them. Some water started splashing on deck, which led me notice that some of it dribbles into the cabin, ah well.
With the boat on auto-pilot, I caught some naps, and made sure we trimmed to every wind shift. Soon I had dinner, and started to go into my night-time routine (30 minute sleep, 5 minute inspections). It soon became apparent that the wind shift was no-where close, and the fresh breeze (Force 5) was picking up to a strong breeze. The waves started to build a little, and soon were about 6-8 feet on average, with the largest topping 10.
The autopilot was no longer up to the task. I did my best to balance the helm for it, but racing over the waves in 5-6 knots just generated too much force on the rudder, overpowering the small telescoping rod controlling the tiller.
I was also unable to make the boat self-steer for more than a few minute before some odd wave, or lack thereof, knocked us off course. Quite unsatisfactory.
In the end, I positioned the boat midway between a tack and hove too, making about 1-2 knots headway. However, this was quite noisy, so I was unable to sleep, and returned to the helm at 3am.
In the twilight (remember, this is Norway), I started steering, noticing one of the blocks giving me a 2-1 purchase on the staysail sheet had been cracked and blown away. After about 3-4 hours of steering, the wind died, and I was left with sails up, and still up to 10 foot waves. The gaff was swinging furiously. I figured that the only way to save the main sail would be to get it down as quickly as possible.
In the process, one of the boom-lifts snapped. Thank goodness gaff rigged vessels have two, otherwise the 100+ kg boom would have smashed through my cabin, or worse, through me.
So I scrambled to save the main, tying it down with one of my mooring lines. In the process, I noticed that two rifts had developed near the top of the sail.
Within hours, I had overpowered my autopilot, ripped my main, snapped a line, and smashed a block. Previously, I had already had the main staysail in for repairs (and fixed some rifts myself), and the small staysail has one of its batten pockets ripped out. What on this rig is in working order anyway? I'm at the end of my stock of spares, that's for sure.
8 hours of motoring and hand-steering later I'm safely in Veidholmen. A stunning place, by the way. But my trip to Lofoten has reached its end. The only prudent course of action is to sail as gently as possible back south, and visit a sail maker to order new sails, by a new set of blocks, and replace the lines. No surprises, they are all 27 years old, but I had hoped they would make 27.5 before needing replacement.
Needless to say, I'm not very happy.
349.8 miles, and heading back. I'm drinking beer. |
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| Bjørnsund |
[Aug. 5th, 2010|10:23 am] |
This place is amazing. Actually, it is places like these in general that lured me to sail north from Bergen, rather than exploring more homely waters. For the first time this trip, I've encountered a society and history unlike any I have visited before.
Bjørnsund, like hundreds of islands along the northern Norwegian coast, is a a deserted fishing harbor. These are recognizable by being the islands closest to the Norwegian Sea, surrounded by fortresses much more impressive than those protecting (against) the Spanish in South America. And the enemy? The violent winter storms.
Bjørnsund consists of about a dozed small islands, where the northern harbor has a breakwater connecting about half a dozen islands, forming a small artificial lagoon. Walking the breakwater, you can see the years etched into the concrete: "1895, 1921, 1928, 1929...". It took generations to build the harbor, and on the light-house island, there is a large quarry for all the rocks.
At the most, these villages on islands so weathered that grass hardly grows, would house up to 1000 people. Bjørnsund had close to that. Yet, due to politics, the whole village was abandoned in 1970, less than 50 years after the massive effort of construction completed (the southern harbor was even drained completely so that the sea-floor could be leveled).
Today, Bjørnsund has a lovely village of small houses, well maintained as summer residences, some even by original inhabitants. There is not a road on the islands, the ferry doesn't go every day even in the high season, and during the winter, the islands are all alone...
214.8 miles down. Actually only a about 310 to go! |
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| Florø-Ålesund |
[Aug. 3rd, 2010|07:09 pm] |
Although it is not the most appropriate way to navigate a sailboat, I nevertheless decided to do an overnight of engining. More precisely, just 35 miles north of Florø is Stad (or Statt). This peninsula, which extends about 10 miles directly out into the North Sea, has a reputation for being the worst stretch along the coastline, and is so bad, both in terms of weather and sub-surface obstacles, that the search and rescue association runs regular caravans.
Anyhow, the weather forecast was quiet, and indeed indicated that last night would be towards the end of a 24 hour calm. I figured this was a good time to get around while the sea state was moderate, and before the winds turned to the forecasted northerlies, which would be much tougher. So I engined from Florø to Måløy (last town before Stad), refilled about 40 gallons of diesel, and set around Stad.
It should be mentioned that the sea is never calm outside Stad. And engining a sailboat with the rolling waves of the ocean hitting the beam is an extremely agonizing experience. Nothing uncomfortable, except from the sound of everything in the boat rolling from side to side. No matter how hard I try, something always gets loose a little, and then we have chafing again.
In the end, the journey was quite uneventful, at times astoundingly beautiful (Bremangerlandet!), and I even caught a few hours sleep in between keeping watch. Towards Ålesund, I put the jib up, but I was too exhausted to start working the main sail in the minimal breeze, knowing that I was only an hour or two away from the harbor anyway.
Once in Ålesund, I managed to back into a tight berth, not too elegantly, but without hitting anyone with my bowsprit. Then I proceeded to spend most of the day trying to solve my chart problem (detail paper charts are obsolete and only as far as Trondheim; Garmin discontinued the chart I was subscribing to; I smashed the screen of the on-board computer which has complete charts). In the end, I was able to find an affordable 12V TV I could use as a screen.
181.4 miles down, 400 to go. Tonight, I'm having a beer. |
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| Bergen-Florø |
[Aug. 1st, 2010|11:03 pm] |
What a day. The forecast was rain with strong winds out of the south and west, and that is exactly what we got. I started out at 4am to get the most of it. Already by 8am the winds had picked up to Force 6. By then, I had not only put two reefs in my main sail, but also hoisted the smaller jib. Throughout the day, I saw no reason to put up again any sail area, and indeed by the end I was thinking that the storm staysail might even be appropriate. Nevertheless, I averaged 6 knots for the day, including the time spent getting in and out of harbor. At one point, I was doing a fresh 8 knots.
Of course, nature was beautiful. I sailed almost 15 hours in rain, and was still enjoying it when I arrived in Florø, 87.4 nautical miles from Bergen (and about one seventh of the way to Lofoten). Of course, the cloud cover and rain obscured some of the vistas I passed, but in sailing between the open ocean (several times), and tiny hardly-meant-to-be-navigated passages through island mazes there is still a lot to be awe-struck by. At one point I forgot that I was looking at a detail map, and headed through a sound that was hardly as wide as Lady Free is long. No big deal if you are running the engine, but scary enough with only the sails up and shifty, but strong, winds between the islands.
Of course, no sail is complete without the accident list: I must be doing something wrong with my gaff when sailing with double reefed main, because the throat chafed into the mast. Not good at all - very bad actually. Also, less surprisingly, my staysail is developing a rift. Hopefully I can mend that. Finally, trying to dock the boat in a still breeze turned out to be a challenge, resulting in me running into a Polish boat. I was hoping they would take it in good spirits, but it was a rental boat so we had to do the full insurance company routine. Too bad, because the actual damage was no more than $100, something I’d have been happy to hand them on the spot.
Tomorrow will be a morning of repairs, and then an afternoon sail to Stad, I hope. |
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| Vacation! |
[Jul. 31st, 2010|02:05 pm] |
My vacation starts today, and will be spent sailing together with Lady Free up the Norwegian coast to Lofoten, and back down again. Estimated time for the trip is one month, and the adventures will be blogged.
Actually, the trip started yesterday, with early morning motoring from Straume to Bergen harbor. After some discussions with the harbor master, Lady Free got one of the best spots! Today has been spent stocking up on maps (expensive), food (also expensive), new anchor and mended jib (don't even ask how expensive), and various gear which may or may not be needed for the trip. Tomorrow morning, the actual sailing begins.
As usual, it is unclear exactly what direction the wind will lead the voyage. The latest forecast is quite unstable winds, but generally in the wrong direction. Therefore, I'm trying something new this time, and putting the progress online in real-time, which can be enjoyed at http://www.instamapper.com/ext?key=9995237025211637137
If this stops working - no one should call the coast guard! The signals are transmitted by my cell phone, so any number of cell-phone reception issues will disable the tracking, including me simply sailing away from the coast. Therefore, this map (if it works) is for entertainment purposes only. Safety is of course provided by satellite and radar based communication devices.
I'm super-excited about this trip. This is my first long solo-adventure in a couple years (I'll be picking up some crew for periods, but the first 10 days are solo), and it is also my first time exploring Northern Norway, which everyone claims is just as beautiful as everyone says it is. Also, I miss being alone on the open ocean. I do hope the wind permits some longer ocean stretches when heading north. |
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| Boats, everywhere |
[Jul. 31st, 2010|12:11 pm] |
I own too many boats. Previously, my remedy has been to sell boats, but somehow, this is harder when it comes to Grace. You are only lucky enough to own Grace once in a lifetime. So instead of selling, my brother Eirik is now the proud care-taker of Grace. This also means that I will not be blogging from Grace in the near future.
She is still mine though! |
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| A post! |
[Jul. 18th, 2010|10:51 pm] |
Time is flying, and with lots of work (have to make money too), moving out of my apartment, and getting to use and know a new boat, this all leaves little time for writing about sailing.
Some highlights though:
I'm posting a picture from when I surveyed Lady Free. Out of the water, you really appreciate what a massive construction this is. The picture of course does not do it justice, but at least the bowsprit is enviable from this angle.
The sail from Ålesund to Bergen went very well. We had no wind the first third, beautiful weather and a nice breeze the second third and rain with a fresh breeze the last third. In total, the trip took about 40 hours, whereof 32 were in motion and the last eight were a failed attempt at finding an open restaurant. I'd say the boat thrived in all conditions, and gave us a very nice tour of the western Norwegian coast. I'm sure tourists pay loads of money for some of the views we had. Some of most memorable moments were discovering the size of the boat: My first time docking I was unsure of how much room I had ahead of the bowsprit. When asking my brother to estimate the distance to the fishing vessel ahead, his cool response was "Your touching it". Ah well. Later, we tried sneaking under a 15 meter bridge at low tide, only to confirm that the boat indeed rises 16 meters above sea level. The mast cleared the bridge, but the antenna scraped it. The picture shows us sailing south of Florø.
Since arriving in Bergen, I've sailed multiple short trips around Bergen, Straume, the cabin, and various other places of interest. Several friends have joined me sailing (and helping me move!), and lately I've taken the Lady out for a few solo sails. She sails very nicely, and as long as you set the sails properly, nothing seems to be too hard for one person to accomplish alone. Except perhaps the topsail; I'd say the jury is still out on that one. Admittedly, everything became even easier when I mounted an autopilot, however I don't trust it to be strong enough for anything remotely close to rough conditions. My experience with autopilots is that they are most useful when engining.
Magnus had a black-and-white moment taking pictures at the cabin. Note how small the dock is, we barely have the stern touching. I'm still not convinced that my draft is shallow enough that I can come alongside the dock, one summer day I'll have to put on my wet suit and investigate (yes, I've tried sounding it, and the result is inconclusive).
The latest news is that I've bought a cute little wooden sailing dinghy to go with Lady Free. I guess she'll have to be named Miss Free. Ah well. I don't have time to do much with the dinghy now, but the little cute thing was for sale, and I realized that deep inside I really needed it (the picture is from the advertisement).
This is all for now. Hopefully, more regular posts in the future, and in particular in August, when the plan is to sail to Lofoten! |
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| I bought a new boat |
[May. 2nd, 2010|04:35 pm] |
Dear readers,
I have the pleasure to announce that I have now gone to the purchase of a new boat: named Lady Free. This statement leads to a broad range of questions, not least of which: "What kind of boat?", "What for? Grace seems so nice!", "Will you keep Grace?" and "Why haven't you blogged about this." The short answer is something along the lines of "40 foot wooden gaff rigged cutter, Colin Archer design.", "To live in and have more flexibility in traveling.", "Probably not.", and "Because I've been looking at several boats, and didn't want to influence the sellers.".
Believe me, lots of updates to follow.
Let me just quickly report on the sea trial. We had four seasons (everything from snow/hail with a fresh breeze to almost calms), and the boat sailed beautifully. She tacks OK, and really picks up speed as soon as you're on a reach. The captain didn't allow us to try the lightest wind sails (top sail, and biggest jib), but nevertheless easily picked up 7.5 knots in the breeze, with even a reef in the main. I kept the sheets tight on a broad reach to see how she heeled, and even dipped the rail in the water. Surprisingly, the jib sheet snapped, but the jib was quickly saved. I guess some of the running rigging needs a careful survey.
The plan is to sail Lady Free to Bergen in two weeks, I can hardly wait. |
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| Grace on water - again! |
[Apr. 24th, 2010|09:51 pm] |
A quick update: Grace splashed yesterday, and I rushed out to spend the night and get the mast up this morning. With some good help from Aurora. Now she is safely in her berth, the mast stands, and only some small items (batteries, through-deck fitting, some running rigging, the boom) need to be in place before she's sailable.
I bought a harpoon to celebrate. |
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| Christmas cod |
[Dec. 30th, 2009|10:42 pm] |
There is an expression in Norway which is “Juletorsken”. It usually refers to the meal, but this year it took a whole new meaning for me. Having grown up at my parents’ cabin, I thought I knew what was to be known about fish in the area. Not so. Fishing with the cheapest fishing pole money can buy from the dock, I hit a solid 1 meter long cod, weighing in at 9kg. Absolutely crazy. I have never caught anything remotely near that size at the cabin. My brother, his wife, and three kids did their best to help me eat it for dinner, yet we barely devoured half. There is still some left in my freezer, several meals later.
However, one big fish does not a blog post make. My friend Morten visited me for a day about a week later, took one toss with his rod, and hauled in another monster. Almost as big, measuring 92cm and 7.5kg.
One has to ask: How come huge cods suddenly inhabit our little bay? Is it a winter thing, or can we expect equally exciting catches this summer? For now, I am happy to settle with what was an exciting end to the year. |
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| The sails are off |
[Oct. 12th, 2009|12:42 am] |
And just like that, it is all over. After the big Shetland adventure, time work and weather only permitted two more trips: A short overnight sail with my nephew, and a longer overnight sail to the cabin. Actually, I attempted to sail to the cabin on a third occasion, but after spending 2 hours drifting and motoring literally in the middle of the night, I had to give it up.
The trip to the cabin ended up being a real spur of the moment thing. My original plan was to sail the club championship regatta. Taking it seriously, I recruited my most experienced regatta crew (Aurora), and scheduled a training session for the day prior. We set sail, but a third of the way through the course I realized that the wind was way too good to simply sail in a circle. Or rather, the wind was too good to spend two days in a row sailing in a circle. Thus, we sailed to the cabin instead. It turned out to be a very nice trip, despite the constant drizzle.
Now, the sails are in my attic drying, and the mast is scheduled to come off on Sunday. Probably, Grace will be safely in the shed a few days later.
I’ve been a good boy this season, keeping notes of all my sailing and my crew. Final statistics are:
• Distance sailed (not including tacking): 730 nautical miles
• 39 days of pleasure, and 21 nights (5 at sea). I have no count on the days of work.
• Crew: Annette, Aurora, Eirik, Helge, Jan Ole, Kristin, Magnus and Trond. One solo sail.
• Fastest mean speed for a trip: 7-8 knots with Helge in a good breeze aft of the beam.
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| The journey home |
[Aug. 1st, 2009|01:43 pm] |
We sailed off anchor Monday afternoon, after a slight wind shift to the south. This allowed us to exit through the east moth of Out Skerries, passing under the famous lighthouse. We had a gentle breeze, and since the forecast was for a further shift to south-south-west, we decided we would head for Stavanger. Only about 30 miles further, it would allow us to spend some time cruising the coast back up to Bergen. As Out Skerries were fading in the background, we got a warning of what was to come. The simple task of hoisting the top sail became a major effort, as first we had to lower the main to rig the out haul, before I screwed solidly up and pulled the wrong end of the halyard. Away she went, and we had to hove to while I climbed the rat-lines to get hold of the halyard again. When we finally got the sail hoisted, the outhaul had twisted around the end of the gaff, and the sail set far from optimally. Needless to say, this meant that to get the top sail down, we had to lower also the main, since the outhaul tied itself in a knot with the tension from the sail.
The wind picked up to a nice breeze as we enjoyed a spectacular sunset over the silhouette of Shetland, and we made a good 5 knots for Stavanger. The first 50 miles of the 200 miles journey were completed in about 10 hours, putting us on target for a 40 hour passage. However, the wind soon died, as a massive cold front spanned the horizon in front of us. We drifted for about three hours before the front hit us. Soon we had a nice even force 5 again. However, drama occurred as we were reefing the main, as the boom preventer we had rigged exerted too much inward force on the boom. The boom is fastened to a ring on the mast, which did a 90 degree twist. My brother at the helm shouted “The boom is loose!”, and we had to lower the main and start repairs. Fortunately, the obvious fix (relax the tension, twist back, apply more tension than previously) worked.
The sea state rose with the breeze, and it soon became apparent that both my thermos were broken. So no hot food. Fortunately, my brother had brought a salted leg of lamb, which we cut into. Toward the evening, we were closing in on the border, which was our decision point for continuing to Stavanger. By now, the breeze had turned back to south, and we were sailing partly into the waves. Considering the extra effort, and our reduced energy, associated with night sailing, we decided to abandon Stavanger, and head for Slotterøy, the lighthouse marking the approach to Bømlo, as well as my parents’ cabin. This also cut the remaining sailing distance.
The wind kept building into the night, and we were soon sailing with only a small jib and double reefed main. The staysail was stowed on deck. Still, we were doing good speeds, half-way surfing some waves, with a gps-max speed of more than 11 knots. Realistically, we were probably averaging about 6 knots, with significantly more going down the waves. Somewhere after midnight, we were down to 50 miles left as my shift ended. By now, the wind and waves were even more persistent, averaging around force 7, and some east had crept into the direction. Waves were continuously breaking over the boat, and steering felt like someone was standing behind you tossing buckets of water at you. The biggest waves would completely fill the foot well. Some waves would break under the boat, thus coming over deck from the lee side. We decided that reaching Bømlo was not worth the effort, and fell off a few degrees to aim for Marstein Fyr, the lighthouse we set off from 10 days earlier. This is the last pass through the islands south of Bergen, and it was crucial that we didn’t have to fall off again. That would imply we would have to sail north of Bergen, and tack southward inside the islands.
Fortunately, we were able to hold the course. With continuing strong winds, our speed was high, and the miles ticked away. The islands became visible when we had no more than 5 miles left, and we could soon identify the lighthouse. We came into lee of the first islands in the late morning, almost exactly 40 hours after leaving Shetland.
We completed the final sail in to Hjellestad, with no tacks nor jibes. At first we joked that we had sailed the whole stretch without a single tack or jibe, but this became less funny when we started packing the sails, and realized that the shackle for the starboard sheet for the jib had worked itself loose somewhere in the middle of the North Sea. Good thing we didn’t need it in some narrow inlet.
Overall, it was an exciting, but exhausting, trip. I’d love to do it again, but with a substantially longer stay. However, it is worth keeping in mind that the North Sea is a violent and unpredictable place. On a four hour shift, one may go from two reefs and a small headsail all the way to calms. Or vice versa. The boat next to me in the marina sank on their way over a month ago. A storm came over a day after we came back, and wrecked two ships further south. In comparison, our trip was a calm one. |
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| Shetland |
[Jul. 27th, 2009|09:47 pm] |
Shetland is amazing. People who say there's nothing to do there but get drunk in Lerwick have totally missed the point of the place. I only wish I had had more time, certainly one should spend at least three weeks or a month to see the isles. Here goes for the few we had a chance to stop by.
Mid Yell
The captain and crew had made a dramatic tack into the bay of Mid Yell, under the huge Pirate Queen and a storm main. We then proceeded to enter the marina by engine, overshooting our target by a few millimeters... By the time we have settled in, and started putting together our foldable bikes, a smiling fellow strolls down the pier. Turns out it is Angus, who needs to fill in some information on behalf of the marina:
Angus: Do you have some animal products you intend to dispose of in our garbage?
Us: No?
Angus: Didn't think so. But I have to ask. Welcome!
Angus is a great fellow; he only charges us half rent for the berth, since we have one on the end with no walkway, and immediately offers to lend us his extension cord for electricity. When asked whether Mid Yell is the main town on the island of Yell, he thinks for a moment before answering:
- Well, we have the pub and the Leisure Center...
In the small store in town, we ask for some needles and thread to mend the main sail, which unfortunately they don't have. What they do have, is an incredible hospitality and willingness to help. Soon the whole island seems to know that we are in need of sail repairs, and we are offered a ride to Lerwick, various threads and needles, a sewing palm, etc.
Everywhere people are friendly: At the pub, the Leisure Center, the store, Norman in his boat (a friend of Angus), Angus himself. At one point a fellow came down to the dock, and told us he was the guy taking photos from the ferry earlier. Of course by the time he came down to the dock, he had been filled in on the gossip, and shared his concern about our main sail. Absolutely great people.
We decided to leave Mid Yell the next morning under reefed main sail (recall that the split was below the first reef), and leave the repairs for Lerwick. However, by the morning the wind had picked up so much that I doubted that the little outboard could push us out from the marina. Then in the rain, a smiling Angus appeared again, offering to tow us out with his dinghy and 60 hp engine! A life saver.
Whalsay
After a quick sail to Whalsay, we got stuck against the current in Linga sound. However, some patient short tacking close to the coast eventually let us get through the sound and into Symbister Bay.
Whalsay (pronounced almost like you should in Norwegian, Hvalsøy) is another quiet spot. Unfortunately, they didn't have a restaurant (except Chinese on Fridays and Saturdays), so we had some Real Turmat. Great stuff! Everyone should by some.
The forecast indicated somewhat favorable winds overnight, with turning winds the next day. So even though we didn't get into Whalsay before about 7pm, the captain decided we would move on the same night, and we only had time for a quick swim at the Leisure Center in addition to the dinner before we were off again. I wish we could have had time to explore more of the island, but at this point, the main concern was to get to Lerwick in time to have my sail mended.
Lerwick
The wind was not as good as forecasted, but by a combination of patient sailing and motoring, we made it into the north sound of Lerwick. And this was as far as we got before we got stopped by the current again. With the sails still up to catch the last of the wind, we put the outboard engine on max, and both paddled on each our side of the boat. This way, we were able to make half a knot headway into the harbor, and as soon as we passed the first green marker, we headed onto the sand flats and tossed out an anchor.
Having not slept all night, I promptly fell asleep, while Magnus combined an anchor watch with a chance at studying half a dozen seals that came up to check us out. Quite amazing creatures. Fat, yet elegant.
After a mis-guided stop in the marina, we headed to Lerwick's Victoria Pier, where most visiting yachts are berthed. We laid ourselves outside Beckie and Jim, a lovely couple that had been in the running for "Owners of the shortest boat on the pier". With the arrival of Grace, they had to concede they were nowhere close.
All the yachties were very friendly, Lerwick truly lives up to its billing as the crossroads for North Sea cruising, with people coming from, and going to: Norway, Scotland, Farao Islands, Iceland, the Baltic, Sweden, Denmark, etc.
Pub life was OK. The locals drink much the locals in most small towns of Norway: Heavily. The town itself was lovely, with small stone houses everywhere, and lots of shops. Most importantly, there was Malakoff.
Malakoff Limited is a shipyard that does everything, servicing primarily the fishing fleet. They have a huge slip, but also of course lots of metalwork and many shops, including a sail maker. Unfortunately, the sail maker was on holiday. He was due back a couple days earlier, but no one seemed too surprised that he hadn't returned yet.
In the end, I borrowed the sail maker’s table, and with the help of some round-the-world cruisers, got my sail mended. More impressively, I needed a part for my autopilot construction. Not only did they make the metal fitting in an hour, but when I asked for the cost, the kid simply shrugged and said he didn't know how to bill "A metal plate with three holes", so I should just take it. It had given him something to do for an hour...
The days in Lerwick passed quickly, and soon enough I had a new crew, mended sail, strengthened autopilot, lots of minor things mended, and was ready to sail again.
Out Skerries
By Sunday, the weather forecast showed a storm approaching the North Sea on Thursday, meaning that Eirik and I should set sail homeward sooner rather than later. So rather than sailing south to Fair Isle or the Orkney Islands, we sailed a short sail to Out Skerries, the last light house before Norway. From here, you can sail as little as 164 miles to get to the first safe entrance into the Norwegian coast, or the 200 miles south-east to Stavanger. On the way, we saw whale again. I wasn't too sure of the species, but Eirik nailed it as a pilot whale.
Out Skerries is a small group of islands with less than 70 inhabitants. Quite a friendly bunch, we must have talked to about half of them during our brief stay. Not as friendly as Mid Yell though. They work mostly at the two fish farms, and on the three fishing boat based out of the island. The small school hosts eight kids (from two families), and employs another eight. Still what must be generous government subsidies (or a youth working the oil rigs) allows everyone to drive big new cars on the islands 2km roads.
Despite all the fishing, it was impossible to get our hands on fresh fish on the island.
We spent our time relaxing and going for long hikes to the outer reaches of the island. The islands have spectacular gores cutting into them, and there are birds abound everywhere. Again, we saw several seals.
Everywhere we went in Shetland, people came over to look at Grace. Indeed, looking back at the pictures, I'd say she was the prettiest girl in all the harbors we visited! |
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| Hjellestad to Shetland |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|12:29 pm] |
The weather forecast indicated that if Magnus and I set sail as fast as we could, we might be able to get almost all the way to Shetland in following winds. So even through I didn't get home from two weeks in Lausanne before 11pm, Magnus is ready outside my apartment at 8am the next morning, and we go shopping and sailing. Sails were set around 12am Saturday. We had light winds out to Marsteinen, and enjoyed our first meal of the day and the sea enroute there. As we passed Marsteinen, the last lighthouse before Shetland, we took down the top-sail and large jib (the one known as Pirate Queen) and put up the working jib.
From Norway we set out in good Northerlies, and something happened I should have gotten used to: Grace really impressed me. The way she cuts through the waves is amazing compared to Sofus. Unfortunately, both Magnus and I made the mistake of trying out some sea-sickness tablets, and both of us were rather unwell for a while.
We were making around 5-6 knots into the night, with the wind turning to follow us from the east. In order to be safe from jibes, I chose a slightly northerly route, so we sailed straight through the Oseberg oil field. I knew there were lots of platforms out there, but I was perhaps not aware of exactly how many. The North sea turns out to be more densely populated than most other areas of Norway. Also populating the oil fields was a killer whale, closely followed by a flock of birds.
The good winds stay with us until we are about 20 miles from Shetland. So far, we've sailed about 36 hours from Marsteinen, averaging 4.5 to 5 knots. Then the wind dies. At this point the captain makes the mistake of keeping the main sail up, in hopes of keeping at least 1 knot movement. Unfortunately, this leads to a lot of chafe from the boom lifts as the sail swings in the waves, and after a while, the stitches between the lowest panels chafe through. Down goes the main sail, and up goes a tiny spare. Actually, the captain learns from his mistakes, and as soon as the spare is up, we take it down and lie quietly with no sails.
The wind doesn't pick up for 12 sunny and warm hours. During that time, we have the pleasure of being visited by minke whales. This is the kind Norway hunts and eats. We saw them several times, never more than two at once.
As night approached, we finally picked up a light breeze from the west, and with the Pirate Queen set, we managed to tack our way closer up to Shetland. By nightfall, we were about 10 miles out of Unst, the northernmost island. But during the night, the wind died again. Not before the next morning did we arrive in the Wick of Gruting, the Northern bay on Fetlar. We sailed in the mile long bay, but ultimately found the massive clips dropping into the sea, and the obvious violence of the northern swell, too dangerous.
Having given up Fetlar, we sailed west through the sound separating Unst and Fetlar, aiming for Yell. The scenery here is fabulous, with the torn cliffs of Fetlar on one side, and the hills of Unst on the other. Everywhere there are ruins of old houses. On the way to the town of Mid Yell, both ferries made a detour to pass close by us, and honked and waved. One ferry crew even came out to take a photo of us!
Indeed, lots of boats took pictures of us as we approached Yell. Perhaps it was the strangeness of this traditional boat with a huge jib and a tiny mainsail, making its way along the coast. We gave them all our best smiles, as we made our approach to Mid Yell at about noon, almost 72 hours after we set off from Hjellestad. |
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| Technical post |
[Jun. 25th, 2009|09:12 pm] |
I have long planned to make an "interior/technical" blog entry, however, this always seems to be complicated by the fact that I'm horrible at taking interior pictures, and that writing about technical stuff is hard to make into good prose. But here goes.
The interior of Grace can be divided into four parts, moving fore to aft: Triangle shaped fore cabin (about 7 feet); Main cabin (6 feet); Galley (2 feet); and aft storage. I will discuss each of these.
The fore cabin has a sleeping deck with about a foot and a half clearing, which easily sleeps two people on either side of the support beams for the bowsprit. Below the sleeping deck, there is generous (although difficult to access at sea) storage space, and also a (slightly more accessible) head by the mast. There is also a hatch, which is big enough that it is handy not only for ventilation, but also for sail changes.
The main cabin is lined on each side by benches, which are also long enough to sleep on (6 feet, foot and a half wide). The rests are hinged, so they can be tilted up to allow for two people sleeping on the same side, if needed at sea. Some storage space is available in the benches. On the starboard side, the household electrical circuit panel is located (barely visible in the next picture), along with the VHF radio.
The hatch leads out from the aft part of the main cabin, so that the galley area is essentially under deck. In Grace, there are generous cabinets on either side, allowing for much storage. Note the storage space leading aft from the galley benches, under the deck on either side of the footwell. Also visible in the picture is my electrical outboard engine.
Finally, below the footwell, there is a cramped, although rather large in volume, storage space. In the picture, you can see how I have prioritized my battery bank. Not clear from the picture is that this storage volume is also large enough for my autopilot computer, two emergency grab bags, three anchors, my toolkit, and a cooler.
Now that we have given the interior layout, let me briefly run through the technical installations (these may be apparent from previous posts, so this will in a sense be a summary):
There are two battery banks (household/engine), interconnected (if desired in an emergency) through the switch visible in above photo. From these battery banks, I lead lines to the cockpit, from where I can charge either battery using my dynamo, and also run my electric outboard. The autopilot runs on a separate circuit, connected only to the engine batteries. The household switchboard is connected to the household batteries, and runs lights (inside and navigation), power sockets, and VHF. In addition, I have a permanently mounted battery charger, and also a 96 liter/minute bilge pump for use in emergencies.
Emergency/safety equipment for the sail to Shetland includes: Rented 6-person life raft; Hull repair kit (rubber sheets, sikaflex, nails, hammer, staples, etc.); Emergency grab bag (flares, lights, mirror, fishing equipment, heat shield); VHF; Handheld VHF; Radar reflector; Masthead LED navigation lights; 2 fire extinguishers; and an EPIRB if I get around to buying one. Of course, personal safety and health things are also on board.
Other useful items brought along are: Bike(s); Tool kit (hardware + electric); Pump to inflate (after deflating) fenders; Wet suit/snorkeling gear for hull repair and fishing; Hand held harpoons; Generally lots of fishing equipment; Electrical cooler; Alcohol based stove on a removable, tilting mount; Alcohol based heater; Hammock.
Sail wardrobe for the trip will be: Main; Spare main; Topsail; Staysail; Working jib; Light air jib; Jib topsail; Storm jib; Spinnaker.
Four anchors are brought along. 3 collapsible grapnel style anchors varying in sizes at about 3, 12, and 25 pounds. These provide a lot of anchor for little storage space. The smallest is intended for tossing, when such is needed, the medium is a short stay anchor, and the largest, with about 15 foot of chain a more than pound a foot, will hopefully keep me safe through the night. These anchors are not too good on sandy/muddy bottoms, so I'm also bringing a fluke anchor. The fluke is too small, so I will probably set it behind the medium grapnel anchor, to ensure that it gets a good angle, and to relieve some force. These anchor choices imply that I leave my medium CQR (to hard to store safely), fisherman (on the bottom of the bay outside my parents cabin), and my small CQR (no point) at home. |
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| Ready to go |
[Jun. 21st, 2009|01:14 pm] |
Saturday turned into a good day: I went shopping with my dad, and bought a foldable bicycle. It is handy to have around the marina, and should be ideal to bring along when sailing to unexpected places, never knowing how far it is to the nearest store/bus/civilization. Also: New and heavier anchor with more chain, and an electrical cooler.
In addition, I loaded Grace up with emergency gear left from Patrick (flares, repair kits for the hull, etc), small spare main sail, and charts. I also brought out an alcohol based heater for those cold nights...
Even further, I finished the autopilot installation, complete with a separate electrical circuit, and did some preliminary calibration of it.
Then, I installed a 12V socket, and connected it to the main switch panel.
Finally, I tidied everything, and started organizing/packing things the way I want them when we sail to Shetland.
Everything works! I'm excited! |
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| Speed record and autopilot |
[Jun. 13th, 2009|11:45 pm] |
It might not seem like I do much work these days, but trust me, I do. It is just that I happen to spend lots of my spare time on Grace...
Yesterday, we had a summer party in the department, and this year it was conveniently held on an island not far from Hjellestad. The food was good, the dock was horrible in with the north-westerly winds. Speaking of which, in 20 knots of wind, tacking was pretty hefty, even with two reefs in the main. On the other hand, coming back to Hjellestad after lunch was a sheer exercise in speed over skill: With no more than a main and a staysail, we easily did 8-9 knots. At least one of those knots probably came from the wind and tide generating some current, but it seems a reasonable estimate that the water speed was around 7-7.5 knots.
This evening, Magnus and I had an intensive work session, putting together most of the autopilot, along with some minor work. With any luck, it should work like a charm next time I have a chance to take Grace out for a spin - which should be in a week or so. |
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| Tandem sailing and such |
[Jun. 11th, 2009|09:09 pm] |
Aurora got her Europe dinghy last Friday, so needless to say, it was time to race! Actually, it is not much of a race, the boats are so different that the outcome is almost totally determined by the wind direction and speed. However, that didn't diminish any part of the fun in an afternoon's sail, including an excessive amount of "Look how close we can sail!". Also, it was a splendid opportunity to have a mutual photo-session.
This also happened to be the first time I sailed Grace without guests/crew. Not really that hard, once you know all the ropes. That said, there are a lot of ropes to know. In the picture, you can see my hand grabbing out for one of them.
In other news, my stove is working excellently again (with a tilting system), I have a new lamp, the water-dynamo is ready for trial, I have a new battery charger, I've ordered a sock for my asymmetric, and most things are otherwise excellent. |
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| Sail training |
[May. 31st, 2009|11:42 pm] |
In anticipation of a summer journey to Shetland and the Orkney islands, Magnus and I have started our rigorous set of sail training. This serves two main purposes: Giving high wind procedures some practice, and giving Magnus more experience than the single sailing trip he has had in his life (with me last summer, on two warm sunny days).
We were fortunate with the weather – in the sense of light but steady winds, and the arrival of summer, with no clouds and warm weather. Sunburns arrived after only a few hours. We spent the first hours of Saturday practicing reefing the main, while sailing in between participants of a historic sail craft regatta. We chatted with a few crews as we sailed past them, they all seemed to be having a blast.
Having become comfortable with reefing, tacking, jibing and lunching, I decided we should sail down to Lysøen to spend the night. On the way, we changed the staysail to a storm staysail and back, and also made an attempt to replace the main sail with what I was sure was a small storm mainsail. Too bad it wasn’t, and it didn’t fit at all. I have now come to the conclusion that Grace is supplied with two storm staysails – a rather redundant measure, considering that I also have two working staysails. However, there seems to be no storm option for the main (I do have a smaller main sail though). Throughout the day, we never set too big a canvas, in the spirit of a heavy weather practice session.
We had no luck fishing, and arrived at Lysøen as the wind died for the night. On the way in Lysefjorden, I made great progress with some electrical projects, and prepared all the wiring and fusing for the towed electrical generator, as well as mounting the VHF radio. We conducted a test of the VHF in Lysevågen, with Magnus calling me from the handheld unit. For every new electrical device that is properly (re)wired and (re)installed, I get just a little bit excited!
Lysøen is fantastic in its tranquility, and we had a pleasant night’s sleep. On Sunday, we woke up not too early, and set out immediately, boiling a pot of coffee as we hoisted the sails (yes, I have returned to my alcohol burner, but with a much improved set-up for it). Tacking out of Lysefjorden we hoisted all the cloth (apart from the topsail, which provides little power while tacking), and even switched over to the (asymmetric) spinnaker when rounding Korsneset. The spinnaker sets on the lines of the jib topsail, and for it to fly properly, I lowered both the staysail and jib. The sheet has to go through a block at the end of the boom. What power! We hardly had a breeze, but the spinnaker and main sail really pushed us forward. I wonder how much the top-mast can take before it gets carried away. As the wind turned against us and strengthened, we eventually had to lower the spinnaker as the wind was ahead of the beam. In a moment of poor seamanship, I transformed the spinnaker to a sea-anchor for a brief moment before it was recovered. Darn. I think I should invest in a sock to ease short-handed handling.
In the end, we recovered some elegance by sailing straight into my berth again, both having learned quite a few lessons over just two days. Shetland will be a fantastic journey.
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| Living in Bergen harbor |
[May. 15th, 2009|11:28 am] |
With a perfect weather forecast, it was not hard to make up my mind to spend my last stay in Bergen living aboard Grace on Bryggen (Bergen’s historic harbor) rather than in my dull apartment. So I set off with Kristin Sunday, enjoying a nice breeze from the North. Fortunately the weather had not turned nice yet, so we got to feel real rugged tacking the few hours it took to get to Bergen. Sailing into the harbor, we made the final approach under bare poles, and still our speed was a fair bit faster than I would have liked. Nevertheless, we got in, making a J turn to fall alongside a German yacht. Only two problems: The final approach was perhaps slightly lacking in precision, leading to a dent in my hull (easy fix), and a somewhat stressed German. Also, the aforementioned German warned me he would be leaving at 6am the next morning to sail to Shetland. So much for a good night’s sleep. Ah well.
Monday the sun shone, and as I was up at the crack of dawn to re-dock my boat, I got to see a side of Bergen I don’t often enjoy. In the evening, I decided to move Grace even further into the harbor, planning to simply slip backwards and tie up to the innermost yacht. I now learned that Grace will not sail backwards, even under bare poles, and that even a mild breeze is enough to accelerate her to a nerve-racking speed. On top of that, tossing out an anchor had no apparent effect – it seems that I missed just about every bike and shopping cart I know litters the harbor bottom. The end result was a head on approach toward a newly shined up Benetau… The damage was minimized, and in the end he only received a small scratch from my bow spirit. An observer in a neighboring boat tried to give me a hard time for not having adjusted my speed according to the conditions, but I’m not sure criticism from motor-boat campers really counts.
It was a nice week in the harbor overall – nights were cold, but comfortable inside a sleeping bag. My sleep-over guests, having only piles of blankets, seemed to be worse off. Lots of friends stopped by for drinks at night, and I even brought some students and colleagues over for lunch. The only odd moments were those in the morning when I popped my head out to look at the sun: I am so used to always being in remote places when camping in a sailboat that I could not get used to being in the middle of a busy city...
Annette helped me sail home on Thursday; unfortunately the winds were not on our side. After a beautiful and sunny departure from Bergen, we tacked up under Askøybroen to Sotra, where the wind died completely. One rain shower later, a strong breeze hit us, flattening Grace at the same moment as a big motorboat roared past. At least it served to clean out some dirt from the foot well. By the time Annette had gotten used to the new conditions and stopped being scared, the wind died again – completely. We drifted for hours, until I decided that it was worth trying to get in on the outboard engine, even if I might not have enough battery charge. Fortunately, the little outboard is more effective than I had thought, and we made a nice 2.5-3.0 knots, and completed the final stretch to Hjellestad in less than 90 minutes. By then, it was almost midnight, and the last buss had departed, so I got to spend a bonus night aboard Grace.
All in all, a fantastic week, and I’ll be certain make a repeat stay later this spring! |
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| Spring sailing |
[May. 3rd, 2009|07:50 pm] |
After a week of work in St. Petersburg (yes, the real one, not the one in Florida), sailing was so on my mind that I decided to skip home, and take a taxi straight to Grace.
So sunny Friday evening we had a nice down wind stretch out from Hjellestad, going north: east of Lerøy and Bjorøy, past Bergen, and to a small island north of Sotra for the night. After a somewhat dramatic anchorage, we made some excellent hot chocolate.
Saturday we sailed out to Øygarden, but the current was such that it was impossible to tack under any of the bridges to get to the west side of Sotra. So we returned south, only to be met by another current to hinder our passage. In the end, we decided to spend the night in the harbour of downtown Bergen. The big drama of the day was that my brand new stove took fire. So much for that, now I need a new one (and new technology). Now that I've given up on alcohol based fuel, I wonder what I should try next...
Sunday again had nice sun, and this time we timed the passage for a nice with-current southern course, and made a very nice and leisurely trip back to Hjellestad. Our entrance into the marina was majestic: Surrounded by small optimist dingies coming back from sail practice, we sailed straight into the harbor. And recall that my dock space is not only tiny, but hidden behind a rather large Bavaria... Now, I only need to figure out how to get Grace out of the harbor under sail, and perhaps I can ditch the electric outboard again.
All days were perfect in terms of weather: Low waves, and winds varying from conditions for single reefed main and only staysail and small jib up, to full sails. Nothing like having five sails to play with on a broad reach!
Steady speeds of 6 1/2 knots at the most, a new record for me as skipper of Grace.
(Pictures from previous weekend) |
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| Floating again! |
[Apr. 29th, 2009|11:05 am] |
Grace!
What a spring! For the second year running, I have been putting a large effort into giving Grace a solid work-over. Last year the exterior got a tune-up with lots and lots of sandpapering of old paint and a fair bit of new. This year, the main focus has been on the interior and on the electricity system:
• Removal of not-too-practical shelves and replacement with new backs for the benches that flip up to give extra bed space on the lee side of the boat when at sea.
• A rack system in the way aft of the boat for my battery bank. This greatly improved on both the safety of my battery system, and also on the utilization of the aft storage space.
• Electric outlet capable of handling the 50A current to my electric outboard.
• A removable structure to mount the electric outboard on.
• Two new coats of paint inside.
• Complete re-wiring of (almost) all electronics.
• Several minor fixes, such as a new hatch for one of the storage compartments, tri-color/anchor light mounted in the top of the mast, new fuses and switches, new stove, paying 25% customs on the sales price, registration, etc.
Lots of people have helped out – such as (in order of appearance) Kristin, Annette, Mom and Dad, Magnus, Aurora, Jan and Eirik. A few more projects are in the mail for this summer, including a water-driven electric generator and a tiller-mounted auto-pilot, and fixing some more electric wiring.
But let me not be distracted by details! We splashed on Wednesday, and the short trip from the slip to the dock more than proved that with the new mount, the electric engine is pure genius! Friday we got the mast up and rigged, just in time for a couple hours of sailing on Raunefjorden. We got back into harbor just in time to get some food from the super-market. Saturday was more enthusiastic sailing, and the wind was kind enough to allow us to sail fully rigged, with all sails pulling. I’d say we were doing about 6 knots on the run, and about 4 on the tack, not bad for sailing in a gentle breeze!
What enthusiasm the spring brings!
(Find Grace...) |
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| Easter working on Grace |
[Apr. 11th, 2009|02:08 pm] |
I love it. Pictures and details will follow. For now, let it be known that progress is good. |
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| Tahiti, and her iles |
[Jan. 19th, 2009|11:09 pm] |
If boats are truly ladies, then paying someone a pile of money for using their boat for two weeks must sure the nautical equivalent of enjoying an escort service. The customers were Nadia and me, the lady was called Banana Man, and the location was the Society Islands.
The Society Islands is one of the island groups of French Polynesia, and includes the largest island Tahiti. It is the only island group with significant population and tourist infrastructure. We chartered a sailboat departing from the capital city Papeete, to be returned two weeks later on Raiatea. Between the endpoints, we hoped to visit Moorea, Huahine (Iti and Nui), Bora Bora, Tahaa, and perhaps also Maupiti (regarding pronunciation: Norwegian without diphthongs is good enough to get around).
The boat
Banana Man is a Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 363i, which means that it is exactly like Sofus, with the addition of 2 feet and one double bed. It had its problems (the main sheet cleat wouldn’t grip!), but no more than one would expect from a charter boat, and certainly nothing that hindered our cruise. The boat came equipped with a solid roller furling genoa and fully battened main, but no light weather sails. We got a worn down dinghy with an outboard, and most importantly: snorkeling gear. The support staff at Sunsail was very responsive and service minded.
The islands (Except Maupiti)
I was planning to write some about all the islands we passed by, but the experience does not lend itself as well to description as my previous sails. Partly because several of the islands have become too touristified, they are little more than generic paradises: Small, French-speaking Hawaiis. The most heavily affected island is Bora Bora (“The most beautiful island in the South Pacific”), which is not worth a visit, unless you are one who enjoys the endless view of overwater bungalows. Tahiti and Moorea are better, but not by much.
We found good snorkeling most places we got our feet wet. We saw large numbers of fish in all colors, as expected, and some rays. The best snorkeling we encountered was actually on the last full day, when we were blown down a current between two islands. A spectacular variety of fish. Paradoxically, we suspect that some feeding had been going on there, as some of the fish were quite eager to make our acquaintance. Three times we ran into reef sharks. They are really cute, and most so the time a couple of dogs started chasing them in the water.
The sailing was in general a little disappointing. This is partly our own fault for going in the (cheap) off season, when the trade winds are less reliable. Also, in several cases the captain judged that two weeks were better spent on beaches and hiking rather than stuck between islands doing 2 knots.
Maupiti
By far the most enjoyable island was Maupiti. This has a simple explanation. Historically, the islands’ development has been limited by a good pass into the surrounding lagoon. Some islands have excellent passes (Tahiti, Moorea, Huahine, Bora Bora), while others have a poor (Maupiti) or no (Tupai) pass. The historic development of the islands seems to be strongly correlated to their present day tourist development. Naturally, this implied that Maupiti was the least touristy of the islands accessible to us.
Maupiti is an island of about 1000 inhabitants; with a circumference of no more that 11 km. Bare boat charters like us have limited access to the island, depending on how good the weather forecast is, and the amount of sailing experience the crew can document. Fortunately, the weather and crew were good enough that they let us go.
We enjoyed a combination of rural island paradise, friendly locals, empty beaches, spectacular scenery, and all the likes. As an example of our interaction with the locals; when we tried to ask someone where we could rent a kayak, they proposed we could simply rent theirs! The only thing we could not do was to get someone to point us to the beginning of the trail to the top of the mountain: Apparently it was someone’s business venture to guide people up, and without him no one knew the way...
Highlights included biking around the island, spending a day in ocean kayaks, seeing several sharks and rays, and generally bathing in the scenery. My only regret is that we did not get around to go diving in the lagoon.
(All pictures by Nadia.) |
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| Summer is over, and change of blogging style... |
[Oct. 19th, 2008|02:57 pm] |
Now that I have sold Sofus, and have "retired" to a state of an ordinary weekend sailor, I feel less of a need to blog about my sailing adventures. Still, since I have this space, I have decided to use it to keep track of the time I spend sailing etc. Consequently, the blog entries will probably be shorter and with less content.
I finished the sailing season with four last sails:
- Overnight sail with Magnus from Tysnes to Fitjar, Bømlo and back (very pretty, including fishing!)
- One day sail with Øydis from Tysnes to Glesvær (took no more that 6 hours despite little wind, very happy about that).
- Morning sail with Nadia from Glesvær to Hjellestad (we spent the night on board).
- Short evening sail with Eirik from Hjellestad to Kvitturspollen.
I am still charmed by Grace every time. She is now on land, and all the sails are spread out to dry in my appartment.
Next trip: Tahiti in January! |
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| Sofus sold! |
[Aug. 19th, 2008|08:32 pm] |
A story has ended...
After thousands of miles, a handful of passages, countless beaches and coves, fishing, whale spotting, dolphins, many friends, hard work, sunsets, sunrises, moonshine, stars, adventure, solitude, Spanish!, natives, sailors, canals, and all the rest I cannot remember, it is time to part. I, for one, do not believe in the old saying: "The two best days in a boat owners life are the days of purchase and sale". Indeed, although I have been told that phrase countless times, never has it been uttered by any but landlubbers.
I know this was not the last boat I took to sea. Hopefully, it was but the first in a long line. For now, I can only hope that Sofus will be as nice to her new owners as she was to me.
Good Bye Sofus!
J. |
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| Sailing! |
[Jul. 15th, 2008|09:14 pm] |
Two days after splashing Grace, Nadia (who took most of the pictures below) and I were done cleaning up and preparing Grace for our cruise. The plan was to sail south, hopefully have time to visit both my brother’s farm and Rosendal, and return to the cabin in time to go home.
Short story: Everything went according to plan, and lots of things were beautiful.
Longer story (with pictures): We sailed to Lysevågen on Lysøen the first day, enojoying a healthy breeze under lightly clouded sky. Sailing time about 7 hours. The perfect weather for convincing my crew that a sailing vacation wasn’t such a bad idea after all. We arrived Lysevågen stately, and sailed into the anchorage, mooring with a line to land. There was one other boat in the bay, but Grace was by far the cutest.
We had a nice hike to the other side of the island, inspected the house of Ole Bull, and decided that we should come back the next day to take the tour of the inside and eat their delicious waffles. Dinner was consumed on board. I had forgotten how good pasta with pesto and parmesan is (note my now-so-beautiful deck, in contrast to its previously grey paint).
We got off to a late start (again), since the museum didn’t open before 11am. However, it was once again a beautiful day. The highlight of the sail was outclassing one of those modern glass fiber boats. This is a nice thing about Grace; when we sail faster than other boats, I can brag, when other boats sail past us, I can use the excuse that they are modern...
The wind died slightly when crossing Bjørnefjorden, so we arrived Lygrepollen in the sunset (around 11pm). Sailing time about 10 hours. We needed my tiny electric engine twice: Once to get out of Lysevågen, and again when the wind died completely in Lygrepollen. It works to my satisfaction, giving us about 1.5 knots at half speed. I have battery capacity for about 9 hours at this speed. Mooring at the farm is tricky, so we had to use the dinghy, which is the first time I’ve actually needed it. It’s neither pretty, nor elegant. However, Grace was by far the cutes of the boats we could see from the farm.
We spent two nights at the farm, helping out as best we could the day we spent there. Always fun to be at the farm.
The following day we set out to sail to Rosendal. We had the current with us out of Lygrepollen, but it was against us down Lukksundet. So was the wind. Given that the current can be up to 3 knots, and that the sound is hardly more than 50 meters across at the narrowest, we were set for some substantial tacking. Several hours later, we were through and exhausted. At this point, the wind was picking up, so we double reefed the main sail and changed to a smaller jib (good bye, Pirate Queen). Darn, that small jib is crap.
Fortunately we had the wind with us in Hardangerfjorden, and we covered the length of Snilstveitøy and Skorpo (one of three islands with that name we sailed past) in just two hours. Total sailing time about 8 hours.
Rosendal, for those of you who don’t know it, is the home of Norway’s only Barony. It is a very pretty town. There were a few boats in the harbor, including a large, brutish, fishing boat from the northern seas, but Grace was by far the cutest.
We were two nights in Rosendal too, spending time with Kristin and Morten, and generally enjoying being tourists. Grace was too deep to moor alongside the dock (as I discovered), so we moored stern too next to a Catalina 400.
We left Rosendal on a Wednesday, with the hopes that the wind would allow us to get at least halfway to the cabin. Better than that, the wind decided to be with us down every stretch we planned on sailing, so we sailed not only to the cabin, but past it and to Austevoll. Sailing time: 10 hours. Here, there is a small town called Bekkjarvik, that has one of the best restaurants in Hordaland. I had wild sheep. Bekkervik, as it is also written, has received numerous awards as among the best small-craft harbors in Norway. I have two things to say: There are very few berths with more than a few feet of water, and Grace is by far cuter than any of the other boats there. Challenge: Spot Grace in this picture.
The last day was therefore a short easy sail to the cabin. Sailing time no more than 3 hours. On our way in, my parents decided they wanted to have a photo shoot of us. Some nice pictures resulted, and it becomes clear why everyone we sailed past took pictures of us!
Grace right when entering a tack (note the main sail backwinding slightly):
Me steering and looking cool while tacking us in the final bit to the cabin:
Fully reefed, jib and jib-top sail lowered, and bow spirit retracted, getting ready to approach the dock:
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| Grace on land |
[Jun. 25th, 2008|05:27 am] |
I really should have written a proper blog entry about this. Actually, I should have at least taken personal notes regarding the time spent and how I did things. But I didn't.
All in all, Grace was on land for 2 weeks. I probably was out working on her at least 10 days in that period. In addition, Mom and Dad helped out a couple times, Magnus helped out on three days, Kristin and Leonid helped out two days each, Juan took a day away from research, Tomas, Helge and Eirik helped out with transportation. On top of all that, Nadia was with me for 5 days. A quick estimate is 5 hours per person per day; I wouldn't be surprised if the job took at least 120 man hours total. Good thing no one charged me!
So what did we do? Polish off lots of old paint (including everything on deck), fix some damaged parts, paint everything again. In the end, Grace has gone from a red and white boat with gray painted deck, to a blue and white boat with oiled wood deck.
Were I to do it again today, I'm sure I the job could be done in half the time. In the end though, it was all worth it: Grace looks beautiful (more on that later), and most importantly, is protected from the elements for a while longer.
(Of course, all pictures taken by Nadia.) |
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| Ascention of Christ = 4 day weekend! |
[May. 14th, 2008|06:09 pm] |
What a great weekend! In addition to selling my little Askeladden, I had a perfect three day sail with Kristin (and Johan).
The plan was to sail from Tysnes to Bergen Saturday, as the forecast was a steady breeze from the south, increasing into the night. Kristin had agreed to crew, and to be on the safe side we brought sleeping bags and some food. In view of the light weather forecast, I finally got around to climbing to the top of the top mast and run the halyard for the top sail.
The breeze was nice, and we were doing a gently four knots with all sails up, going on a dead run. After a few hours, I decided it might be fun to try out the spinnaker. Bad idea. As soon as that sail was up, the wind died down, not to return again for several hours. In the end, we picked up a small sunset breeze, and got into Vestervåg on Røttingen. Not nearly as far as planned for the day, but a perfect place to have dinner.
Johan joined us for Sunday, and again the goal was to get to Bergen. This time however, the weather forecast was spot on: About 15-20 knots out of the north. We had a good day of tacking, playing around with different sail combinations. In the end, I had to give up the "Pirate Queen" (the big jib), and sail with small jib, staysail, and reefed main. Even so, we were tilting 45 degrees, and the keel was almost dry enough to walk on! In the end, we had a good sail, but didn't quite make it the last few miles into Straume. So we spent a second night, this time in Hjellestad.
(Note the Jeanneau Sun Odyssey in the background!)
Finally, on Monday, we only had a short piece left into Straume, where the friendly seilskøyteklubben has its marina. There wasn't too much wind, but a nice gentle breeze let us tack our way to winward, again with every sail up! Got to love 'em sails!
Overall, it was a splendid three days of sailing. Not just was the weather spectacular, the wind varied, but Grace gets an enormous response. People make huge detours on the fjord to pass nearby us and have a look. Fun. Also, Grace is fantastically fun to sail. She is incredibly balanced on a tack (sails a good tack with no attention to the tiller), and can put up huge amounts of sail off the wind. When sailing with the main and top sail downwind it looks like a whole wall has been erected! She also turns out to be a good camping boat, with easy maneuverability in small harbors, and surprisingly good room inside. I'm enthusiastic!
(All pictures by Kristin) |
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| Boat sold! |
[May. 13th, 2008|08:32 pm] |
But - Not Sofus. My friend Tomas took me up on my offer of buying my smallest sailboat, the Askeladden. This was the boat I learned to sail in, and in which I had my first camping trips solo along the Norwegian coast. She is a perfect little boat to learn to sail and to go on day sails in, if only to a nearby island to take a swim...
My most memorable experience in her was perhaps two summers ago, when Nadia and I went camping together. Four days and three nights, sailing more than a hundred miles among all the small islands south of Bergen. To share in the nostalgia, tune in to her blog entry.
I can only hope that Tomas will enjoy her as much as I have.
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| May 1st = 4-day Weekend! |
[May. 4th, 2008|06:01 pm] |
I finally had a good, long, weekend to implement some of my ideas for Grace. First of all, I was a little worried about being slightly overloaded with sheets the day I would finally get around to hoisting my jib top-sail. Navigating the narrow waters of Norwegian fjords is tricky enough with the shifting winds and quick currents. It would be even worse if I short handed - I realize most of my sailing experiences are solo - would have to tack all three head sails. So, going against the advice of the bible of gaff rigged sailing (Leather's "The Gaff Rig Handbook"), I modified the whisker pole to double as a boom for the staysail. As it is rigged now, Grace will tack with no adjustments to the sails under main and staysail, while I only have to tend to the jib when sailing under full working sails. Further, I can adjust all running rigging from aft.
Another issue which popped up last time I was out sailing, was that the main was slow to come down. Mostly the problem was one of the lacing on the mast introducing too much friction, so I decided on attempting a different setup. The idea is to use separate loops of rope for each eye, with large beads to reduce friction. I made one prototype, but the jury is still out as to whether it was a success.
Finally, I threw out another 100 kg of rubbish from inside, including around 90 cans of expired food, and a tool box full of tools rusted solid. Grace now floats about a full foot above the water-line she was at when I bought her. Wow. I might have to put in some ballast until I install an engine.
Tonight also was quiet enough for me to try to air some of the sail wardrobe I hadn’t had a go at yet (and to tally up whether I have enough ropes). So in addition to doing a trial run of the modifications to the main and stay-sail, I hoisted both the jib top-sail and the spinnaker. The jib top-sail sets very nicely – and it was really not hassle at all. I think I’ll try to look for more frequent excuses to flying it. The sheet has to be pulled all the way aft, outside all the shrouds. The spinnaker was exciting. At first, when I found it, I gathered that it was just something the previous owner had got from someone, not really ever meant for Grace. But it actually fits rather nicely (perhaps only a tad bit large), when set from the tip of the bowsprit. It is huge though, and from what I can tell from the small amounts of running rigging attached to it, has never actually been used on Grace. There might be a very good reason for this, as the remaining sail wardrobe should make anyone happy even in the lightest of winds. However, I've never backed away from a challenge, so I’ll have to look out for a nice whether day to try it. Imagine a broad reach with main and top-sail, and the staysail covered by a huge spinnaker! |
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| S/Y SOFUS is for sale! |
[Mar. 23rd, 2008|04:58 pm] |
The yacht is sold as described in this blog. She is a 1998 build Jeanneau 34.2, bought by me January 2nd 2007. She is now in Lima, Peru. In addition to all standard equipment, the following major recent repairs and enhancements have been conducted:
• Four new sails (March 2007): Main, Genoa (110%), Asymmetric Spinnaker, Storm Staysail.
• New Dinghy (May 2007): HonWave 220cm.
• New exterior woodwork (December 2007)
• Solar panel (December 2007)
• Auto pilot (April 2007)
• New gear box (December 2006)
• All batteries replaced (August 2007)
• All cleats serviced or new (April 2007)
• Genoa sheet cars and spinnaker pole car new (December 2007)
The primary (inboard) engine is a Yanmar 3GM30F. The outboard engine (for the dinghy) is a Tohatsu 3.5 Hp.
In general, the boat is very sea-worthy. I have sailed her single-handed more than 5000 miles in 2007, first from the Virgin Islands south through the West Indies. Subsequently, we crossed the Caribbean, facing up to 30 knot winds and 15 foot waves. She has been through the Panama Canal, and sailed from there to Las Perlas (Panama), Salinas (Ecuador), Galapagos, Pimentel, and to Callao. She is ready to sail on to any destination near or distant!
See also the advertisement:
http://www.finn.no/finn/object?finnkode=12840482 |
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| Lima and all that. |
[Jan. 15th, 2008|10:03 am] |
I could have spent some paragraphs complaining about the wind along the coast of Peru, but why waste time on something which hardly exists.
Sofus and I arrived in Lima in style: Sneaking in covered by the darkness, not succeeding in making the obligatory contact with the Navy. The “marina” was an organization shuttling people in and out to moorings, much like the Balboa Yacht Club. Plus: Great restaurant, friendly people. Minus: Climate. Lima is cool, damp, and foggy. Condensation everywhere.
The only chance I had to explore Lima was an afternoon, and it was a shock coming from the ocean. The taxi-driver promptly broke every traffic rule I don’t know. The best part was when the car in front of us stopped for a red light. My driver, and just about every car behind us it seemed, immediately started honking the horn. Apparently, stopping for a red light is bad manners: you should just drive into the intersection and take a hit for the team... On the way home at night, we had to turn in the middle of the road when there was a street fight ahead of us, which just looked to scary for both the driver and me.
Considering Lima’s population of 6+ million, it goes without saying that I only got the tiniest glimpse. However, it was very refreshing to see buzzing markets, street-side cafés, bars, stores, and people. It is the first city I’ve ever been to where I’ve run into three bookstores before finding a single clothes store. That situation quickly rectified itself.
Lima is famous for its food. Its inhabitants have trouble deciding whether it is best described as the culinary capital of South America, or perhaps as one of the top 5 cuisines in the world. Anyway, compared to the food I’ve been eating during my travels with Sofus, it was definitely way good.
I decided to sell my boat. That is, if someone pays a reasonable price. She is a good boat, and I’d love to keep sailing her, but work commitments and Grace are probably a handful as it is. Having a boat thousands of miles from home might be a bit over my head.
That said, if no one comes up with the greenbacks (or Nueve Soles, as it may): Next stop Easter Island! Who wants to go? |
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| Pimentel |
[Jan. 8th, 2008|05:01 pm] |
You know you are arriving to civilization when you start getting text messages before you can see land. Either that, or there is a heavy fog...
I got to Pimentel at 13:00 local time, New Years Eve. Several attempts at getting hold of the local Capitanía by VHF failed, so I called my friend in the marina in Callao. He couldn’t help much, so I inflated my dinghy (by this time the local fishermen appeared to have finished for the day, so I was unable to obtain a hike), and row my way to shore. Peru has preciously few features on its coast, so the waves tend to break heavily on the beaches for miles. This has prompted most beach-side cities with respect for themselves to build a several hundred meter long jetty out past the surf, to which it is possible to make landfall. Pimentel no exception, except the jetty being mostly disbanded, and ridiculously high. Damn, life is never easy.
Lonely Planet raves about the local fishermen and their tiny reed boats (which apparently sink after only a few months use). Yes, they are cute, and look like mini Con Tikis.
Entering the port of Pimentel was an experience. Seems like I was the first pleasure boat the port captain and his men had ever seen. All five or six of them started fussing about, none of them speaking English. Good thing I had been practicing my Spanish. Eventually, they gave me free dinner, we found a safe place for my dinghy (apparently, nothing is safe outdoors anywhere in Peru), got me a hotel room (no way I was sleeping with that swell-induced rocking of the boat), and found internet! All this required only a $40 bribe. I realized of course afterwards that this was waaay too much, but the port captain made it good a moment later (tranlated as I understood it from Spanish):
PC: You need an agent.
Me: Why? I’m only me in a small boat. Just give me the papers and I’ll fill them out.
PC: Do you have the forms?
Me: No... (I had though that he would have them)
PC: Then you need an agent.
Me: OK... How much does it cost.
PC: $100 perhaps?
Me: No way. Haven’t got that much money.
PC: Let’s get the agent over.
(5 minutes pass until the agent comes)
PC to Agent: Look, there is hardly any paperwork to be done. Can you do it?
Agent: Sure, no problem.
PC: Does $10 dollars seem reasonable?
Agent: Yes.
Wow. Just saved $90. On top of that, the port captain didn’t bother with any of the port fees I should have paid, and they sent one of the underlings as guide with me to the market in nearby Chiclayo, so I got off the hook pretty cheaply.
I slept into the new year.
Overall, Pimentel was a crowded beach thing going, with the charm of a pile of concrete. Needn’t go there again. I’m getting a feeling that Peru should be visited for its ruins of towns of the past, not for its small off-the-beaten-track towns of the present. |
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| Happy new year! |
[Dec. 31st, 2007|07:54 pm] |
From Pimentel, Peru!
There are a bunch of blog entries from all over the place I want to post, but for now they will have to wait on my USB stick until I remember to bring it with me to an internet café...
So far, let me say that sailing has been a blast, and although it is good to be on land again. I´m setting off for Lima (with a bit of luck) tomorrow, let´s see how long that will take. |
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| Rants from the Sea |
[Dec. 31st, 2007|05:00 pm] |
On being alone out here
After the initial annoyance at Gunhild wimping out, everything has all turned out for the best. The sail down to Peru, where I’ll hopefully arrive tomorrow, has been a long one. With the current ETA, I’ll be looking back at 10 solid days at sea, and there are still about 4 or 5 more before I’m in Lima.
But it has been nice. The solitude is good. I’ve worked a bit (pretty happy with that part), daydreamed a lot, read some, improved my windward sail trim skills, practiced knots and whippings, slept some, worried about the 10-20 liters of water appearing in my bilge every day (tastes fresh??? Can’t be right.), eaten as much as I could (more on that to follow), and had hundreds of ideas to small things to include in my blog, a minority of which will make it below.
Without criticizing anyone, but this would not have been the same if I had crew. First of all, I would not have been as patient with the lack of wind, feeling responsible for not only my own time, but also someone else’s. But more importantly, the meditative state you arrive at when alone at sea is something truly precious.
It is also nice to be away from all the shipping lanes, and have some decent sleep at night. In and out of Panama was a nightmare – ships passing all the time. Out here, you are really alone, and for a week I didn’t see any other ship at all.
How to sail 700 miles on a tack with no more than force 3 winds
Be patient. Constantly make sure the sails are trimmed to exploit the little wind there is.
Fishing
I’m doing some statistics on my fishing success. So far, the score is:
Pacific Ocean (lost lures): 4
Draws (fish got away without lure): 3
Jan (fish caught): 2
Meals: 6
Costs: $160
Someone told me there was no fish in the middle of the ocean. I bet they’ve never tried. A couple days ago I hooked a massive mahi mahi (you should have seen it jump a meter clear out of the water), which took me a full hour, and a passing flock of about 50 dolphins, to reel in. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a proper hook (“klepp”, as it is referred to in Norwegian), or net to get overboard with, so when I tried lifting it out of the water (it must have been 20-25 kg), the fish hook broke/got bit off! Amazing, I’ve never had that happen before, but then again, this was by far the biggest fish I’d ever hooked. Fish just don’t get this big often in the fjords of Norway (I don’t think I’ve ever caught anything my parents and I couldn’t happily devour in one sitting), and I’ve never fished 300-400 miles off shore before.
So I made myself a weapon of fish destruction: Essentially a small flag pole with a nail through it. It’s the best make-shift klepp I can come up with, even though the spike is only about an inch long. The day after the massive mahi mahi, I caught another fish, species still unknown to me (I’m sure some of my readers knows their Pacific biology than me). Damn! This one was massive too! Another hour spent reeling it in, and boy, was that a huge amount of power floating in front of me. I quickly realized that the only way to get this guy on board was if my flagpole-made-klepp was sunk in deep and securely, so I shoved it down the throat of the beast, hooking its intestines somewhere. To avoid wanton destruction on board, I used a trick Øydis taught me (and she claims to be a marine biologist): Give the fish a shot of cheap alcohol. Indeed, it passed out almost instantaneously (note the cheap bottle of Galapagos booze near its tail, the pole coming out of its mouth, and the fact that there is (yet) no blood spillage):
Wow. My measuring tape gives a length of about 4 foot 9 inches, which I guess is about 1.4 meters. I estimated the weight to at least 20 kg. Ridiculous. After rinsing the fish and knocking off its head and tail, I chopped the rest up into 5 somewhat equal parts, and threw the beast into the refrigerator. This is from one of the bloodier (but far from the bloodiest) moments:
Five huge meals later, and I have still only got through 30% of the damn animal. Since each meal has been about twice the size of a normal meal, I’d say that this fish is good for about 33 regular servings. There is no way I can eat this whole thing before it spoils, or I die from serious mal-nutrition, whatever happens first.
Fish recipes
For those of you in doubt of my creativity with almost no cooking supplies, let me give you the menu for the last few days. All quantities are for a single portion:
Lunch, 0 DAF (Days After Fish): Fried fish naturelle
Recipe: Take 500-750 grams fish in filets. Throw it in a pan, turn after a while. See what happens. Make some fresh grapefruit (I thought they were oranges) juice while waiting.
Comments: The fish turns white, and has a good taste. Turns dry very quickly, and does not taste too good raw. Thin filets are advisable. Too much.
Dinner, 0 DAF: Fried fish under a cover of cheese
Recipe: Carefully brown half an onion, and throw in a chopped apple, and push to the side of the pan. Place 500-750 grams of fish under a cover of Galapagos cheese in pan. Fry with a lid over low heat for a while.
Comments: The fish was reasonably well cooked, no problem with dry/raw parts. Very good sides, and the cheese really made a difference. Too much.
Lunch, 1 DAF: Fish fried on one side
Recipe: A classic French recipe for fatty fish (which this is not): Fry 500-750 grams of fish filet in lots of oil, under a mound of salt. Cook until the smell of burned fish skin is intolerable (depending on thickness of filet). Brush of salt
Comments: Works fine, the fish is well done all the way through, without drying out. The salted top is good. Works better with salmon (and other fattier fish) though. Too much.
Dinner, 1DAF: Fish stew
Recipe: Barely cover a chopped potato, carrot and a half onion with sea water in a pan. Cook as long as it takes to filet a few kilos fish. Add 500-750 grams of fish cut into small parallelepipeds. Let simmer under lid.
Comments: Very good stew! Went tired of the fish half way through, but the vegetables and sauce were immaculate. Kind of like a vegetable soup on a fish broth. Too much.
Lunch, 2DAF: Fish como Señor Jesus
Recipe: It is well known that Jesus fed thousands of people with just a few fish and some bread (not hard at all if the fish were the size of this one). How did he get that many people to eat fish? By making it taste like meat of course! Here comes a recipe from Jesus’ modern homeland, the US Bible belt: Take 500-750 grams of fish. Soak in authentic Hickory Smoked BBQ sauce. Soak some more. Fry in BBQ sauce. Voilá! You have something which tastes like Texan BBQ, e.g., not fish.
Comments: Still didn’t taste like meat. Too much.
Dinner, 2DAF: Meat stew from can
Recipe: Take a can of ready made stew. Heat in casserole.
Comments: Delicious. Just the right amount.
[There turned out to be no more meals on this fish, as I threw out the rest today. Started to smell bad.]
Whaling
This beauty was about the length of my boat. Rough estimate of amount of food, based on self-similarity with the fish, gives upward of 10000 servings. Having learned the lesson of not hunting down bigger animals than you can eat, and not wanting to eat whale the rest of my life, I therefore passed up the opportunity to reel it in. I wonder if a shot of alcohol would have knocked this one out too? Species as usual unknown:
Kind of hard to follow the “Don’t ram your boat into whales” mantra when they are rubbing themselves against your hull as you pound through waves.
This flirtatious creature had actually been following me for about a day or two, as I have been hearing its breathing at night. This time was the only time I got a daytime visual (complete with a tail wave, not on film), and for some reason I had a camera handy! I know of mothers who have paid loads of money for whale safari’s (lunch included), and not even seen the animal.
The red sea
Seriously, the sea was red today. I have no idea what causes it, I hope it is algae, although it looks frighteningly like blood. Fresh out of a horror movie. The red was in streaks and patches, spanning tens of miles. I wish it had been possible to photograph in any sensible way.
On arriving in Peru
I have decided to make landfall in Pimentel, or perhaps Puerto Eten, about 350 miles north of Lima, for several reasons. Most importantly, so that I can send my dad an e-mail on his birthday tomorrow. I know he’ll appreciate that, more than any other gift I could have (but haven’t) got for him. But also to stock up on some fresh food – I’m down to a little cheese, two apples, three potatoes, and two grape fruits – hardly another four or five days worth, and I don’t feel like a canned-beans-only diet. And finally, tomorrow happens to be New Years Eve, and I’m sure that it’ll be nicer to celebrate in some small beach town on the Peruvian coast than 50 miles out at sea.
I don’t have clearance to enter the country yet, but I’ll just claim I’m in an emergency. Plenty of things to blame: Leaking boat, low on diesel, tiredness, or simply out of food. This will be my third emergency stop in a row (two in Galapagos, where I didn’t have a proper clearance either). Somehow, I don’t think I’m getting all the formalities right...
I guess that this is enough said on a long sail. I’ll be back with more from Peru later. |
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| What brings you to this beautiful island, Isabela? |
[Dec. 21st, 2007|04:42 pm] |
Everyone claims Isabela to be the prettiest and most special of the Galapagos islands. It definitely is the largest, although it only has a small settlement in Puerto General Villamil. The town was much like any small beach town, but the whole place seemed slightly unnatural. This is probably a consequence of much of the settlements on Galapagos serving purely a function for tourism: Apart from the fishermen, people either work as guides, or farm land to reduce the agricultural imports (thus reducing the risk of introducing invasive species). Thus Villamil seemed somehow to lack an identity of its own. This is emphasized with the (very pretty) “development” project underway, which seems totally out of place. It is tempting to compare Villamil to the settlements on Anegada and Jost van Dyke (BVI), which had much more personality. Ah well. It was pretty in spots, the food was mediocre, and you have to love a place with sand roads (note the beautiful light posts, which I never saw lit):
Øydis, an acquaintance from Bergen, turned up the day before we left Santa Cruz, and stayed with Sofus for our trip to Isabela. She has previously sailed quite a bit, and it was good to see someone at the helm of Sofus so thoroughly enjoying themselves (especially when we set the asymmetric). Øydis had been to the Galapagos before, and blond fair skinned girls obviously make an impression: We could hardly walk down a street without someone recognizing her. Quite entertaining.
The best part of the Isabela experience was probably going for a snorkel trip guided by one of the local water taxi drivers (I bet he puts “Naturalist Guide” on his resumé). We visited an island popular with the white tip sharks, and got to snorkel in a protected little inlet. Good fun, lots of fish, some sharks, thousands of iguanas (sometimes piled on top of each other, five stories high), and an incredibly clingy sea lion. That animal would just not stop playing with you! Kind of hard to obey the “don’t touch the animals” mantra when the animal is rubbing against you.
Isabela was also the starting point for my passage to Peru, which started off with a sail past a perfectly shaped volcano top, open on the south-west side:
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