Seaworthiness: The Forgotten Factor

Sometimes when I read blogs from our friends in the southern latitudes like Venture Minimalists or Voyage of Moondance, I get a bit jealous of the length of their sailing season.  Here on Cape Breton Island, we have about three months of great sailing weather, three months of chilly sailing, three months of weather suitable to work on the boat on the hard, and three months where it is so cold that all one can do is read, plan and dream.  I often wonder, how do people who can sail year round find time to get any reading done?  Or is there even an appetite to read about sailing without such a long time ashore?

While most of this country is buried in snow I have taken to the books already, with Seaworthiness: The Forgotten Factor by C.A. Marchaj.  The book was inspired by the tragedy at the 1979 Fastnet Yacht Race that saw 18 deaths, 24 ships abandoned, and 5 sunk.  The book is basically an indictment of contemporary designs, the discarding of safety for the sake of speed.

Seaworthiness: The Forgotten Factor

As a guy who one day hopes to pile his family in a crate and move it around the world, I was very interested to see what qualities made some boats safer than others.  I do have to admit, there are calculus equations in this book that are big enough to make your face melt.  Marchaj uses them to prove his aerodynamic and hydrodynamic claims, and as long as you can see what they’re trying to prove, you’ll be fine.

If you find yourself in a position similar to ours, where you are not really sure what you are looking for in an offshore cruiser and safety trumps all else, I would highly recommend reading this book.

Heavy displacement deep full keel, vs a light beamy fin keel in rough seas.  Which would you rather be aboard?

The book looks at most aspects of hull design and mathematically tells you which features make boats more likely to capsize, or once capsized, which features make them more likely to flip back up.

Another little nugget I found very interesting is the study about how rolling motion effects the crew.  A heeling motion up to 4° is actually beneficial and enhances a crew’s performance.  Marchaj attributes this to the same pleasant effect a rocking chair has of people.  With each degree the crew performance deteriorates, until the heel reaches 30° and the crew becomes incapacitated.

When we were just starting out, we were looking for either a Tanzer 22, Paceship 23, or an Alberg 22.  After reading Seaworthiness, a quick look under the waterline is all it takes to see which is the speediest in good conditions, and which is the more stable in the rough conditions.

Speed vs Stability

Up South

Ever look at the map of the world, and pick out where you live?  For me, the eye wanders to the upper right edge of North America, tucked quaintly between mainland Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland.  It’s all very familiar.

Being North American, and looking at North American made world maps, we’re always somewhere in the middle.  But why is it always in the middle?  Why is North America always near the top?  Why is North always up?

There is no reason that North is always on the top, but a few theories.  One is that Ptolemy, the great Egyptian map-maker, started it, and relative to him, all the best known cities were north of him.  Other theories point to more Eurocentric beginnings.

Ancient Arab cartographers placed south at the top of the map.  Most of their known world lay to the  north of them, it drew the most attention to their area

Most early maps, before the wide-spread use of the compass, placed east at the top. This is generally thought to be due to the fact that the sun rises in the east. It was the most consistent directional maker.

When you look back at the history of cartography, a good indicator as to who made the map could be whoever is at the center or the top of it.

A pretty exotic looking place

 

 

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Wawartok I & The Lotus Of Kuan Yin

Late October.  Cape Breton hits daily highs of of about 4° to 10°C.  The wind is brisk and biting.  Almost daily, cruise ships with American tourists unload at Sydney Harbour, hop on buses, and are whisked around the Cabot Trail to see the changing leaves, the hills and the heather.  Sailing season is coming to a close.
I find that it’s usually this time of year, that my attention shifts from the smaller steps, to the big picture.  After Frances is in bed, I’ll find myself more often procrastinating by opening up Google Earth, and looking at places I’d like to visit (sometimes while listening to that country’s indigenous music, for the full effect!)

Along with the wonderful places to visit, thoughts turn to how we’ll get there.  Indy is a trusty steed when it comes to putting around Sydney Harbour, but to cross oceans, we’ll need something a bit bigger.  It will be a few years before we actually upgrade to a bigger boat, but one always has to be aware of what is out there, and what kind of investment, both money and time, will be involved in getting it ready.  Usually, I limit my searches to the Maritime Provinces, and the Northeastern areas of the United States.  A couple caught our eye in the last few weeks that were close to home.

The Lotus Of Kuan Yin

About an hour and a half drive from where we live, lies a 50′ ferrocement ketch called the Lotus of Kuan Yin.  Its ad said it was moored near the canal town of St. Peter’s, and must go.

Erika and I were headed to Halifax for the night last week, and decided to take a look around while en route, to see if we could find it.  We stopped at the local marina, but it was nowhere to be found.  An Acadian gent popped out of the building, to see what we were up to.  We told him what we were looking for and he said he knew the vessel well.  He told the story of how Lotus was moored near the marina for years, and never moved.  How one day it broke its mooring and he was part of the rescue party when it went adrift, luckily before colliding with another boat, or running aground.  He told us it was sitting in French Cove, a few kms down the road, and we were off.  Here is a pic from the ad:

We eventually found it, on a quiet misty evening.  It looked like it was haunted, sitting on a motionless cove.  It’s description said it spent 4 Nova Scotia winters in the water, and it looked that way.  The price was extremely low for its size and age, but needed a massive amount of TLC.

Wawartok I

A bit farther away, St Margret’s Bay on the Nova Scotia Mainland was a 42′ steel Colvin Gazelle.  I’ve been doing a fair bit of reading on hulls, and seaworthiness thanks to some great books from my Uncle John,  and Thomas Colvin designed with this philosophy in mind.   Wawartok I had a junk rig, about which I knew practically nothing.  But after a bit of research found the junk rig has some pretty neat advantages:

• Less flogging of sails (quieter)
• Less danger of an accidental jybe due to balance of the sail
• More “reef points”
• The sail can be constructed by an amateur – the cut is entirely flat

Most of the disadvantages that come with the junk rig have to do with performance.

I am impressed by both Colvin’s reputation for seaworthy design, and steel hulls, so if a similar vessel is for sale a few years down the road, it will be a serious contender!  I looked at steel Gazelles that are for sale throughout North America, and foud them all to be very similarly priced, luckily in range that we would be looking.

The Ones Who Came Before

When you click the About page on this blog you are greeted with this all encompassing statement:

“The ongoing story of a young family who hope to go from hopeless landlubbers to swashbuckling circumnavigators.”

Every time I see that statement, there is a little voice in the back of my head that reminds me that it is not entirely accurate.  Make no mistake, Erika, Frances and I are landlubbers.  The first time we were ever on a sailboat was less than a year ago.   But once you look back at our new family tree, Frances has her fair share of salt in her veins.

Our family tree, or at least the photographed branches

First of all, for almost 200 years, one branch of her family called Port Morien their home.  (Frances still hangs out there with her Nana and Grandad most Saturday afternoons. )  Port Morien is a tiny fishing community, that has a mighty wharf and breakwater.

Port Morien Wharf

Frances has 2 paternal great uncles who fished out of this  open harbour.  Ralph, started out fishing lobster.  Eventually he purchased a dragger that he and a small crew piloted from Vancouver to Cape Breton, approximately 6500 Nautical Miles.  Stuart, fished lobster his whole life, before selling his boat to take a position as a fisheries observer.  He tragically died at sea at the age of 46.  In high school, I would occasionally go fishing on Stuart’s boat ‘Ada B’.  My job was usually to measure and band the lobsters.  You know when you see lobsters in the tank at the grocery  store?  Those little rubber bands that are on the claws?  That was me.  The combination of engine exhaust, fish guts, cold, and constant rolling of the Atlantic, lead me to develop a pretty efficient system of puking over the side at regular intervals, without letting the lobsters pile up.  Toward the end of my career, I could complete a barfing session between traps in under 45 seconds.  I know, a pro.

This is Frances’ maternal great-grampa Charlie.  He fished lobster, crab and tuna. Based in Tracadie, Nova Scotia but fished all over – mainland Nova Scotia, and the waters off western Cape Breton.

Charlie Myette

The farther back we go, the details become less clear.  Frances’ Paternal Great-Great-Great Grandpa was named Francisco from the Italian town of San Severo.  There is very little known about him.  The story goes that he was in the navy of whichever kingdom ruled at the time, and while at sea, he suffered what has been referred to as sunstroke which caused him to go mad.

Francisco’s wife remarried, this time an Englishman named John who was also a sailor.   It was from John I inherited a set of needles for sewing sails.

W. Smith & Sons Sail Needles

Still barely visible on each needle is the stamp of their maker ‘W. Smith & Sons’.  I was hoping I would be able to find out more about them online, but it has proven to be difficult, considering the company is still in business, and making needles today that are identical to their product from 140 years ago.

I am sure there are more people back there, and hopefully one day we’ll find them.  But for now we work on making our own entries!

Beeeg Wawa!

S/V Alma Guapa

If you are reading this in another part of the world, especially one that is usually sunny, let me tell you about our quaint little island. Our summers are great. The mornings are bright and cool, days are hot but never humid, and the sun shines well in to the evening. We love it when this stretches into September. It is pretty much gone by October. November? Forget about it.

This year was no exception, with most boats being pulled out of the water by the ides of October. We were coordinating with J to go splitsies on a crane so we could both haul out at the same time, so Indy was one of the last vessels out. Sailing season was winding down.

One morning Frances and I went for a walk down to get her ready to haul out. I was expecting to do most of the preparing, Frances was to eat most of the sticks. I don’t know why that kid loves eating sticks! When we arrived, we noticed we had a new neighbour. A long white sleek sailboat named Alma Guapa, Spanish for ‘beautiful soul’.

S/V Alma Guapa

From what I could tell by nosing around, she was on a long trip, and looked ready to go pretty much anywhere. No sign of life on board, so Frances and I went about our business, securing shrouds, coiling lines and eating sticks. When we got home I googles the name and found the Alma Guapa has it’s own facebook page and website!

I said hello via facebook and the skip invited our pod on board for a tour. His name was Christian Lafrance from Montreal and is a wonderful man. He and his crew of two were waiting in Sydney for a suitable weather window to open to make the estimated 12 day voyage to the Portuguese island of Azores in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He was happy to answer all of our questions about safety, technology, communications, the lifestyle, and of course his plans. We were delighted to hear that they were very vague. He was to get to Azores, his crew would then depart, then make for the Canary Islands, after that who knows. His vessel was a Kaufman 46 that he’d been working on for two years, and planned to spend the next few years cruising the world. Alma Guapa was insulated, so there was nothing keeping him from heading into colder climates, but that is the beauty of living aboard… when you live on a boat, there is no winter.

Naming a Sailboat

When we got our new boat back home, we noticed her name ‘Luna Sea’.  It is one of those names that uses clever nautical wordplay, double meanings and sometimes sexual innuendo like ‘Breakin’ Wind’, ‘Cirrhosis of the River’, or ‘Master Baiter’.  Neither of us were very happy with it, and decided to change it.

Apparently it is not as easy as peeling off the old name and slapping on a new one.  There are gods that must be appeased.  Ceremony must be strictly adhered to or else tragedy is sure to befall you.  Unfortunately, there is no official consensus as to what you’re supposed to do.  We were more concerned with finding the perfect name than angering Poseidon.

Around this time, Erika and I were in the middle of the new adventures of Horatio Hornblower.  A British miniseries that followed the naval career of Midshipman Hornblower played by Ioan Gruffudd in the time of the Napoleonic Wars.

We love them.   Hornblower is a fallible hero, courageous  in battle, an idiot with women.  We knew one of the ships in Horatio’s adventures would be a great place to start when looking for a name.  Lots of great ships with great names fought with and against our hero, so which do we pick?  Some of the finalists include:

Justinian, La Reve, Renown, Retribution, Hotspur, Witch of Endor, Lotus, Raven, Pheobe, Porta Ceoli

But we decided to go with the ship that was always there to save the day.  Whenever Horatio was facing certain doom at the hands of the French.  This is the ship that would appear on the horizon under the command of Capt. Pellew.

Research

We knew almost nothing about sailing.  I say ‘almost’ because we knew it required wind, and that’s something.  Luckily we were just getting into November of 2010 on Cape Breton Island, which one can always count on as the beginning of a long cold winter, and therefore lots of time to do our homework.

Our first decision was how we were going to get out on the water.  There were a few options that presented themselves.  We could buy a boat, and get someone to show us how to sail it.  We could sign up for lessons.  Or we could volunteer to be crew for sailboat races throughout the summer.

Strangely enough, for an island with a rich nautical history, there are very few sailing lessons for adults in Cape Breton.   Having welcomed a new baby into the world in May 2010, volunteering as crew was going to be difficult as any new parent will tell you, the baby is the boss and sets the schedule.  So we decided to buy a boat.

I spent the snowy winter poring over boat reviews and schematics, trying to determine what would be the best fit for us.  We came up with this for our wish list for our first vessel:

1 – Between 20′ and 24′

2 – Full keel

3 – Need no repairs

4 – Be under $4000

We were pretty sure we had our search narrowed to an Alberg 22, Paceship 23, or Tanzer 22.  Finding any of them in our price range  was the next challenge.