Split bamboo at bridle point

A 25 knot gust snapped the lower yard on our mainsail during a cruise on Lake Washington last weekend. Annie was at the helm and I was on the main sheet with the kids down below with Mazey (on her maiden voyage). Tacking out of Juanita Bay in Kirkland was going pretty well, though it was difficult to find the balance between pinching and sheeting in the main. We had nearly made Juanita Point in the 15-20 knot steady southerly, but had to make one more tack in 0.5-1m chop.

Conveniently, we were watching the main as we crossed the mouth of the bay on a starboard tack, talking about how it seemed most tight right across the middle while the luff was luffing. I had just told Annie that Mike thought the bamboo spars were too flexible to maintain the delta wing shape, while I wondered if it was a good feature for the bamboo to flex and spill the wind, when — CRACK — the lower spar folded about 30 degrees just forward of the forward bridle attachment point. I let out all the main sheet and was able to drop the sail by brailing first (though it was threatening to billow out near the broken bamboo) and releasing the halyard. By the time I had the rig secured over the port main hatch, we had run half way back into the bay with the dodger acting as a mini-spinnaker.

We motored over to Magnuson without further incident and unloaded a bunch of gear. We cleared the decks and unloaded a bunch of cruising gear so that Liam, Mazey, and I could stand a chance of motoring back to the UW through the waves and upwind. It was easy going in the lee of Sand Point, but the chop was intense at the point and all along the western shoreline of the Park and Windermere. A squall hit us near the Windermere-Laurelhurst boundary with gusts up to ~30 knots, but the chop declined as we approached the 520 bridge (less fetch). We both enjoyed the spray and watching the paddles fly 0.5m up off the tramp as we bounded over waves, but I wished we’d locked the center platform panel down as the waves and motor occasionally lifted all three sections up 5cm and slammed them back down!

Anchored in the weedy Juanita Bay

The cruising on Saturday was very pleasant though the weather was torn between sunny for swimming and windy for sailing. With Mike’s clan aboard, we all enjoyed dips in the middle of the Lake, led by Molly who leaped off as we passed the dog park beach! We motored into Kirkland Saturday afternoon for a great dinner at Cactus and gelato/ice-cream dessert, then back to Magnuson to drop Mike et al., then back to Juanita where we anchored in 3m of water with our danforth, 7m of chain and 8m of rode.

The forecast was for strong winds after midnight, but I foolishly didn’t pay enough attention to their direction — from the south:

SEATTLE
330 PM PDT SAT SEP 24 2011

.TONIGHT…MOSTLY CLOUDY. A CHANCE OF RAIN AFTER MIDNIGHT. LOWS IN THE
MID 50S TO LOWER 60S. SOUTH WIND 5 TO 15 MPH.
.SUNDAY…BREEZY. RAIN LIKELY IN THE MORNING…THEN SHOWERS LIKELY IN
THE AFTERNOON. HIGHS IN THE 60S. SOUTH WIND 15 TO 25 MPH.

In retrospect, it would have been wise to head for an anchorage in Cozy Cove, despite the added distance from/back-to Sail Sand Point. As it was, I awoke at 3:30 a.m. to rising winds. A squall hit at 4:00 and we clearly began to drag anchor. Annie popped out about the time I was getting on deck and we began deliberating about what to do… Ended up getting warm clothes and life jackets on, using the motor to reduce the load on the anchor, trying a couple times to deploy the second anchor (that should have been prepped in advance) without much luck, and ultimately watching from about 4:30-5:30 to be sure we were holding steady as the wind moderated and backed to the southeast (giving us some protection behind the big cottonwoods on Nelson Point). It was a relief to run up on the sand at Juanita Beach Park and stretch our legs before having breakfast on the boat.

View NW Wharram gunkholing in a larger map

Our lucky run of rare marine mammal sightings began when we met about 12 northbound southern resident orcas at Lime Kiln lighthouse and Deadman’s Bay. They were very close to shore (10-100m) traveling north in groups of 2-5 spread out over about a kilometer. The blows backlit by the early morning sun were mystical against the shattered basaltic coastline. We didn’t hear any vocalizations and there were no automated detections made that morning on the Lime Kiln (or Orcasound) hydrophones, but the sounds of the blows were clear and powerful and added majesty to a very peaceful passage down Haro Strait.

About the time Liam started asking “When are we going to get there?” we were treated to a rorqual reunion in the middle of the eastern Strait of Juan de Fuca. In a few square kilometers centered over Eastern Bank (between Hein Bank, Smith Island, and Partridge Bank), there were at least 5 and probably more than 12 minke whales foraging on aggregations of forage fish. The fish were 10-15 cm long silver-grey elongated fish — probably herring — that formed tight schools or balls. One ball was chased directly under our boat by a languishing (full?) harbor seal so we were able to see it was 1-3 meters deep and 1-5 meters across, densely packed with slowly swirling fish. Sea birds were flying everywhere (almost always <10 meters above sea level) and flocking at the waters surface in groups about 10 meters in diameter, typically spaced 500-1000 meters apart. Does anyone know if this is a particularly great year for herring? I'd never before seen such large aggregations during Beam Reach programs (in the fall or spring) or in a decade of recreational sailing around the San Juans and Puget Sound.

The minkes were remarkably adept at heading strait towards the next aggregation of birds, lunging through it for a few minutes, and then traveling in a pretty straight line towards the next aggregation. We wondered: how they knew which direction to swim next? They often seemed to be working together, lunging or breaching through schools in groups of 2-3 whales. Many lunges were horizontal with heads out of the water, while a few seemed more vertical and looked like a killer whale spy hop.

Almost as amazing as the feasting minkes was our nighttime observations of a foraging humpback just south of where Admiralty Inlet meets Hood Canal. This is the furthest into Puget Sound that I’ve seen a humpback. At least one individual was feasting on aggregations of a small silver fish (more herring, we assume) earlier that (yesterday) morning from about 2-4 a.m. when Mike, Liam, and I sailed very slowly through Skunk Bay (Foulweather Bluff to Hansville). It was overcast with occasional rain showers with 0-10 knots of N/NW wind while a weak flood transitioned towards a strong ebb at Point-No-Point. Liam counted 38 blows in an hour of listening to the near-constant sizzling (snap-crackle-pop) sound of leaping forage fish. We were able to see some of the closer surfacings in the pale light from Seattle reflecting off the low clouds and calm waters and it was clear this was an adult humpback taking 3-5 breaths before making a 3-6 minute dive.

Actually, the light-wind sailing with our big polytarp crab claw sail was pretty interesting, too. Mike served up Nutella French toast as we jibed and reached slowly down Haro, greatly appreciating the 2-3 knot push from the ebb tide. .Mike chose a good clear night for Liam’s first night sail and Liam surprised me by waking easily, watching and listening carefully for the humpback, and doing a good job relieving Mike at the helm for a stint.

1st voyage north: Port Townsend to Friday Harbor

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Sam, Peter, and Mike cool off after paddling.

Mike skippered Milagra’s first voyage to the edge of Puget Sound today with the able assistance of Peter Abrahamsen, Amy Fleischer, and Sameer Rayachoti. Leaving Shilshole at 11:30, they sailed northward in light southerly winds. As the temperature rose and the winds died, they paddled up to Kingston where the heat drove them to take a swim. They then motored from Edmonds-Kingston ferry up to the south end of Whidbey Island. There they sighted a humpback whale twice and approached Useless Bay before tacking across towards the south end of Marrowstone Island. They motored a bit more and then sailed again as the winds shifted to northerly. They motored against the flood tide through the Port Townsend canal and finally tacked across the Bay to Point Hudson Marina in a 10-15 knot northwesterly.

1st voyage north: Seattle – Port Townsend

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Before departure, they rigged up a main halyard block (as there was a lot of friction in at the masthead from the shrouds and roughed up kevlar). They also finished installing the stainless steel struts and retaining straps for the dodger. Bravissimo!

Sailing into Point Hudson Marina

Winds rising and pressure falling at Port Townsend.

Tomorrow they sail to Lopez across the eastern Strait of Juan de Fuca. With luck they’ll weather the passage and stay clear of Point Partridge and the massive lee shore presented by Whidbey Island… Bon voyage!

This meant that we needed to finish up the new main sail, find and mount an engine, build a dodger, and create a head! Additionally we organized our cruising ear/tools/materials, and added a tracking device to our safety gear.

Two weeks ago, Mike and Catherine laid out the dodger and two Tuesdays Mike and Scott stayed up most of the night installing it. Last Friday, Mike and I got the boat in the water at the UW WAC, revved up the engine and made it to the locks in about 30 minutes (minor cavitation if too much weight forward or wake lifts the engine up), locked through smoothly, and took a guest berth at the Shilshole H dock. Mike and Catherine then spent the weekend at Blake Island, reporting an easy downwind passage (2 hours) there, and some good motor sailing back. This week we tuned the rig a bit during an evening sail on Monday, a working/sailing Tiki Tuesday with Julian and Matt Johnson (put tell tales all over main, finished 1/2 dodger struts), and a final session tonight — I installed the head while Liam and Cora assembled the new tool and repair boxes and Annie organized the first aid kit.

Here’s a link to a prioritized sailing checklist for coastal cruising on a Tiki 21.

And here’s links for helping plan and execute safe coastal cruising in the Salish Sea — with a focus on Puget Sound’s main basin and the San Juan Islands.

8m Tiki dodger and tent (by Hanneke Boon)

Mike purchased 32′ of galvanized thick-walled electrical conduit for dodger/tent supports.  The question is to go with something designed by Wharram, riff of of some of the other dodger/tent designs in Boatsmith’s photostream, or to try an asymmetrical solution — possibly a sort of clam shell folding in from one or both sides…

We also delved a little deeper into comparing Torqeedo electric motors… Can you feel a summer of cruising coming on?

We discovered there are many ways to arrange the new sail — by raking the mast fore or aft, overlapping the spars and mast (or not), shifting where the halyard ties to the upper spar, and stepping the mast on the center or forward beam.  The favorite arrangement seemed to be a vertical mast stepped forward with the sail overlapping the mast a couple feet, but almost every set up warrants a trial.  We even tried using the small main as a apanker (assuming we added a little mizzen mast or other mounting hardware).  Another great idea was using the smaller (7 m^2) main as a downwind “spinnaker” that would let one run wing-and-wing with close to the full planned sail area (~20 m^2).

We resolved to experiment with lots of combinations, but to basalt the mast beforehand to reduce the risk of it buckling and creating bamboo splinter shrapnel.

With the kids in bed, we quickly rigged up the sail and spars and got a sense for how much lateral stress might be put on the upper spar by the halyard.  The sail is definitely bigger than the old main and had a life of it’s own even in the light breeze.

Soon Mike showed up, we concurred that about 2 meters of basalt sock centered on the halyard attachment point would be a simple way to guarantee the upper spar wouldn’t fold.  Thomas helped cut the sock and slid it on with Mike as Scott hemmed and hawed about placement.  Centered on the point 3.10 meters from the upper spar’s tack-end, the sock got saturated with epoxy glue and then coated with fairing epoxy.  As it cured up later, Scott trimmed the ends with a box cutter.

Mike and Scott also used some tarred twine to whip some of the bigger splits in the bamboo spars after dribbling in some epoxy glue.  That worked well and looked pretty ethnic and bomber as well.  The hope is that with another coat of epoxy the rain won’t get inside the spars and cause internal rot or weakening.

It wasn’t quite as sunny as the day before, but today brought us a nice combination of dry decks and 5-7 m/s April winds.  We got to the trailer around 2, had it in the water around 3, sailed for about an hour, and had it out of the water around 5:30.  The sail was very pleasant with Union Bay in classic form — unpredictable gusts and lulls sweeping over the arboretum from the south.  We enjoyed a long beam reach over to the east end of the 520 bridge and back.  A highlight was being approached by a little red zodiac which at first glance looked like a Coast Guard boat.  It was a treat to realize it was actually Fritz and Erin coming over to check out what appeared to be a felucca making good speed in light winds with minimal sail area.  Thanks to Fritz for the great photo above!

Liam, Ryden, and Cora tested out the new benches, determining they make great tables and desks for kids.  Annie got cold hands, but seemed right at home on deck, reading over the wind to the kids nestled down in the hulls.  The sailing was very smooth and the only problems I noticed were another stress crack in the main hatch covers (this time inboard forward corner of the aft half of the port hatch) and rain water having leaked into the forward two (round) waterproof hatches (likely due to o-rings scratched too much by last summer’s sand).

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Overall, the trailer modifications worked well.  With only 10-15 cm clearance under the keels, I was surprised we didn’t touch going over bumps and undulations.  The final dip and rise at the top of the ramp, however, led to the skeg/rudders hitting.  Liam and I propped up the stern beam on the skids with 4×4 blocks and made it over.  Lowering with the climbing rope worked fine, but it was way too stretching on the way back up.  I think the winch is the way to go, though it’s slow; maybe bring a cordless drill?  Another a-ha was realizing the trailer tongue could be raised or lowered with the front wheel jack to keep the keel from hitting the ground.  The longer-term solution though is to raise the skids another 10 cm or so.

While it was good to get Milagra in the water and under sail again, it was also nice to spend enough time at the boat ramp working out the trailer/launching/recovery kinks that we bumped into the local WYC+ guard.  Gavin kept an eye on the end of the boat ramp and offered some suggestions, Chris (owner of the Supercat) chatted about trailer solutions that might work for hand-deploying off the ramp, and John discussed the rig and vessel, before volunteering ideas for improving the WAC winch and finally heading home around 5:30.  I ended the day sponging out the bilges (old rainwater, not new!) and the prolific fish cracker crumbs left behind by my crew.

After sampling some coconut porter, we settled down cross-legged and sewed up a Polynesian polytarp sail of 13 m2.  Stefan and Mike dacron-taped the corners while I wrested with Pfaff tension (didn’t know about the bobin tension screw).  We took turns sewing the edges, putting in grommets, and emulating Mike’s artsy red corner stitching.

Before heading to bed, we pointed one of the 24′ bamboo poles (spars) into the night sky and wondered at the enormity of this sail we’re building.  It’s going to be a blast comparing this one to the little main that already sends Milagra scooting around at 3-4 m/s…