Hilton Head Island: GERMINAL; a speeding Pole/ quagmire

 I just finished re-reading GERMINAL, the thirteenth novel in Emile Zola’s twenty volume Rougon/Marquart series set during what is called the Second French Empire from about 1850 to 1871.  GERMINAL is often called Zola’s masterpiece.  It is a very great novel indeed, but I think Zola wrote many masterpieces and I rank it with NANA, THE DEBACLE, and THE BEAST IN MAN, and could not say that one is greater than the others.

GERMINAL is said to be about a strike by coal miners in Northern France, but it is about much more.  

Zola’s descriptions of the bestial working conditions of the men, women and children crawling in heat, poor air, coal dust, seeping water, cave-ins and explosions, a half mile and more below the surface for bare starvation wages are vivid.  I remember thinking when I read Upton Sinclair’s THE JUNGLE about the meat packing industry in Chicago at about the same time why the owners treated workers so badly while they themselves were incredibly wealthy?  Why they did not share a little more of the profits the businesses were making?  And concluded that in the cut-throat capitalism of the time the owners had no choice.  If they did not pare costs to the human minimum, others would and they would be driven out of business.  That argument is in fact made in GERMINAL by a mine owner and by the manager of another mine.

Here is an insight to life in the mines.

GERMINAL was first published in 1885, a time when reaction to the extreme exploitation of labor  and to the extremely wealthy and aristocracy was taking place.  There were Marxists, nihilists, anarchists, and millions who merely wanted enough bread to stay alive and even dared to dream of a little bit more.

Zola was clearly in sympathy with the workers, but he depicts the desire of some owners and managers to treat the workers better and some of their own sorrows.

There is also great drama and excitement in the novel.  As I read it I thought:  this would make a good movie.  I am not the only one and have discovered that several film versions exist.  Carol and I found a 1994 French version at Amazon Prime with English subtitles starring Gerald Depardieu and watched the last two nights.  It is a very good movie, true to the novel, though of necessity sometimes sketchy.  To my surprise it contains an abbreviated version of the scene in the novel I found startling.

A great novel.  A very good movie.  I recommend both.

https://www.thetimes.com/uk/science/article/magnetic-north-pole-earth-2024-qrlnl2zz9

I remember that in the late 1960s early 1970s when I was living in San Diego the variation was 13º East.  It is now about 11 º   East, not a significant difference if you are navigating by a traditional compass.  I navigate now electronically.  Velocitek, iSailor on iPad and iPhone, my Apple watch Ultra, and set all my devices to display true headings, not magnetic, which is quite revealing when you are crossing the Gulf Stream and find your COG is thirty or more degrees different than the true compass heading.

In my life at what I could do alone I have been almost entirely successful.  In what has involved others I have had mixed results which is probably the common experience.  

I am feeling frustrated.  Here in the Low Country getting anything done that requires others is more difficult than any place I have ever lived, and not just with boats.  I know I have said that before, but I am feeling it strongly now.  I feel stalled, stuck in a quagmire, unable to go forward.  I have wondered if this is part of my being old.  I do not think so.  Carol and others tell me that this is a fact of Low Country life.  If so, it is not a desirable one.  

There is work I would like to get done on GANNET that I cannot myself do.  I have workarounds for some of it and with or without the work being done, hope and expect to be hundreds of miles offshore two months from now.  What a relief that will be.

Hilton Head Island: mind set; sinking?

Levis, not shorts.  Socks.  And a jacket.  54F/12C and sunny.  Fall has come to the marsh.  We will be back in the 70sF/low 20sC and shorts in a few days.  This alternation is what the weather will be on the island until next May or June.  Carol misses the seasons.  I do not.  I hope never to see snow again except in photographs.

Carol drove us to Dolphin Head this morning and we walked a couple of miles beside Port Royal Sound.  There were white-caps on the sound and maybe one foot waves.  I estimated the wind at 12-14 knots.  Having had some practice I am pretty good at that.  When I checked later the wind at the nearby airport at that time was reported to be 13-15 knots.

We saw a few dolphin and a sailboat about 40’ heading up the sound under power.  No sails set.  I thought this odd because if they had been the boat would have been just forward of a starboard beam reach, an excellent point of sail.  As we walked I wondered why she was not under sail and then I realized it was a matter of mind set.  Those on board are not sailors, they are power boaters with a mast.  Sailors think about sailing first.  Those who aren’t don’t and power even when sailing would be faster and quieter and cost less.

You have probably seen the report that a Disney cruise ship ‘rescued’ four ‘sailors’ from a sinking catamaran a couple of hundred miles off Bermuda as shown above.

Am I the only one who sees that the catamaran is not sinking?  She is on her lines and the seas are moderate.  I am told by the owner of a similar size catamaran that catamarans can’t sink.  I do not know what went on, but this does not compute.

Hilton Head Island: two news items; three books; no royalties; 83 push-ups

That the rich are getting richer is not news, but that the ten richest people in the world gained $64 billion in wealth in the day after Trump’s re-election is impressive.  At least to me.  I have no other comment.

https://www.cnn.com/2024/11/07/investing/billionaires-net-worth-trump-win/index.html

You may have also read that 43 monkeys have escaped from the facility in which they were being bred for research purposes here in the Low Country.  Reportedly there is a double door to their enclosure, but an attendant failed to secure both and forty-three monkeys, no fools, left for open spaces.  Seven stayed behind.  Freedom does not have universal appeal.

https://arstechnica.com/science/2024/11/43-research-monkeys-on-the-lam-still-playfully-exploring-police-say/

These monkeys are only a few of more than 10,000 being bred nearby.  I had no idea there are that many.  Fortunately most do not run for political office.

That monkeys are wandering around free in South Carolina presents almost infinite possibilities for jokes and cartoons, especially when it happened so soon after the election.

For some reason I am reminded of my fellow native Missourian, Mark Twain, observing more than a century ago, There is no distinctly American criminal class—except Congress.  

By coincidence I finished three books this morning.  One excellent.  Two not.

The excellent, perhaps great, is Evelyn Waugh’s WW2 trilogy SWORD OF HONOR.  In the preface he admits that in order to sell more books the publisher insisted it be originally published over several years in three volumes, OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN, MEN AT ARMS, UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER, but that it is really only one story and should be read as such.  For SWORD OF HONOR he removed some duplication and passages he found tedious.

The novel follows Guy Crouchback who at the outbreak of WW2 has been living alone except for servants for several years at a family estate in Italy following an unhappy divorce.  He becomes an overage officer in a famous regiment and sees minor action in what is now Senegal and the Balkans.  His ex-wife comes back into his life as do many strange characters, some civilian, but mostly military.  Like all of Waugh SWORD OF HONOR is partly satirical and ironic, but it is also humane, compassionate and intelligent.  Some claim it the best novel of WW2.  I do not know about that.  I can think of others that are its equal, including Vasily Grossman’s very different LIFE AND FATE.  But SWORD OF HONOR is exceptionally good and a pleasure to read.

Here is a passage I particularly like:

Not a pleasure to read were the other two, both purporting to be poetry,  T.S. Eliot’s COLLECTED WORKS and THE ROSE OF TIME by the contemporary Chinese Bei Dao.  I have of course read Eliot’s major poems before.  I came across Bei Dao at the end of an anthology of Chinese poetry and was sufficiently interested to order THE ROSE OF TIME in paperback from Amazon.

While there are moments in Eliot, including from his Four Quartets, “Old men ought to be explorers”,  which I have quoted, too much of his poetry and even more that of Dao is so obscure as to be unintelligible.

I open THE ROSE OF TIME at random and find ‘Nightwatch’ which includes:

                    glass paperweights decode

                    writing’s wound of narration

                    how many black mountains blocked

                    where a nameless tune ends

                    blossoms scream clenched fists

I could include endless others but don’t want you to suffer needlessly.

I could do the same with Eliot.  I know he is considered a great poet, but perhaps obscurity has been mistaken for imagination and meaning. 

I went back to the anthology in which I first read Dao and was not impressed by what I found there.  I must have been in an odd mood when I first read his words.

The image in the preceding post was not my first t-shirt.  ‘A sailor is an artist whose medium is the wind’ has graced t-shirts, greeting cards, place mats, coffee cups, and was even used in an ad for women’s shoes.  I don’t understand that one.

I receive royalties from none of them.

I do still receive very minor royalties from my books, more from Kindle editions than paper.

I did 83 push-ups this morning as required.  This is getting ridiculous.

Hilton Head Island: my legacy

 

Hilton Head Island: an anniversary a day late

 

I woke not long after midnight and realized that yesterday marked the 50th anniversary of my departing for what would become my first attempt at Cape Horn.

EGREGIOUS had no engine.  As you can see the mainsail was up.  When I dropped the line in my left hand I was off into the being part of my life.

I could not have imagined what was ahead.  Six circumnavigations.  A cell in Saudi Arabia.  At least eight storms with hurricane force winds.  Adrift for two weeks.  Swimming for twenty-six hours.  A million or so words.  Suzanne was a year and a half ahead.  Jill nine years ahead.  Carol twenty years ahead.  Or that I would today be living in the marsh and finding beauty and a little peace here.  

The photo was taken by a newspaper photographer.  I do not know how they knew of me.  I did not tell them.

From STORM PASSAGE the part of Yeats poem, ‘An Irish Airman Foresees His Death’ I quoted at the beginning of the book and the first entry.

Hilton Head Island: sailless; swimming headless; early birds

 

GANNET looks odd to me without sails.  This is the first time she has been sailless since she was launched after being trucked here in September 2020 and she will be for a while.  North cleans sails in bunches and tells me I am not likely to get mine back until mid-November at the earliest and that there is no guarantee the mold and other stains will come out.  As Billy Pilgrim said, “So it goes”

After dropping the sails at the North loft we had an enjoyable lunch with Jason, an American friend who now lives in New Zealand and is back visiting, at a famous restaurant in the historic district of Charleston, and then Carol drove us along the harbor front, past huge old mansions which survived the Civil War and still appear to be privately owned, not turned into hotels or AirBnbs.  Out across the harbor I think I saw Fort Sumter in the distance. The harbor is big and with depths of 52’ the deepest on the East Coast and the eighth busiest container port in the U.S., but not as busy as Savannah, which ranks third.  I was not aware of any of this until we moved to Hilton Head Island.

In the absence of sails I have been desultorily scrubbing GANNET inside and out.

When you fly into Hilton Head you see a labyrinth of land and water below you.  This was reinforced on the drive to and from Charleston where it is still tidal ten and twenty miles from the ocean and neither land nor water dominates.  What land there is is flat, so tidal water has nothing to give it pause.

A neighbor loaned me THE REPUBLIC OF PIRATES by Colin Woodard.  I have no special interest in pirates, though I have read about them from time to time.  I knew some of the history, but Woodard introduced me to men of whom I had not heard.  He states the ‘golden age of piracy’—I did not know they had a ‘golden age’—lasted only ten years, from 1715-25–and most of them ended on the gallows.  Even those who were instrumental in destroying piracy ended badly.

I find it curious how tribes make heroes of criminals.  Jessie James, Billy the Kid, Ned Kelly, Bonnie and Clyde, and endless others are remembered when almost all of their contemporaries have vanished without a trace.

One pirate of whom I had known is Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard.  According to Woodard he was among the most humane of pirates, never mistreating those he took captive.  He was killed near Ocracoke by an expedition sent by the governor of Virginia into North Carolina illegally.  His head was cut off and tied to the bowsprit of the ship, ADVENTURE, and sold for £100 after the ship returned to Norfolk.  Woodard relates, “Blackbeard’s headless body was thrown into Pamlico Sound, where, according to legend, it swam around the ADVENTURE three times before sinking into the brackish water.”  Of course it did.

I am writing near noon on our screened porch on another perfect day in the marsh.  77F/25C, sunny and a slight breeze.  A sailboat about 40’ is powering south on Skull Creek, one of the early snowbirds.  I have noticed a few every day this week, but then it is almost November.  At least this one has his mainsail up.  

Hilton Head Island: two books, two movies: great, excellent, very good and terrible; unjibed

I recently read two books, LORD JIM and M.A.S.H., and then Carol and I watched the movies based on them.  

This was the third time I have read LORD JIM and Conrad was a pleasure as always.  M.A.S.H. was offered by BookBud a few weeks ago, so I bought it.  I probably read the novel when it was first published in 1968, but I am not sure.  Reading it now the book was seen through the prism of the long running TV series and partly the movie which I have seen a couple of times.  I have always enjoyed the movie as an original, gory, dark comedy of men and women forced into the exhausting struggle to save the lives and what parts of the bodies they could of those caught in the maelstrom of war.  In some ways I think the movie is even better than the book.

So the great is LORD JIM, the novel.  The excellent is M.A.S.H., the movie.   The very good is M.A.S.H., the novel.  And the terrible is LORD JIM, the movie.

I remember when I first saw LORD JIM, the movie.  It was in a Los Angeles first run cinema in 1965.  I was with my wife and another couple who I thought were friends, but proved to be merely acquaintances.  I disliked the movie intensely.  It uses Conrad’s title, but has nothing of the depth of his story of a man who after a single impulsive act of cowardice tries to redeem himself in his own mind.  The movie got bad reviews.  You can find them if you are interested enough to google.  And did poorly at the box office.  Two nights ago Carol and I had enough after forty-five minutes and stopped watching.

We rented both movies from Amazon Prime.  They are also available elsewhere.  Enjoy M.A.S.H.  Don’t bother with LORD JIM. 

Day after perfect day continues in the marsh.

Carol drove us the short distance to the marina parking lot this morning and I pushed a dock cart out to GANNET.  The intent was to lower the jib from the furling gear and trundle both it and the mainsail which I had stowed below deck after removing it a few days ago back up to the car to be driven on Friday to North’s loft in Charleston to be cleaned.  Because I have not removed the jib from the furling gear for two or three years, I wondered how this would go.  In the event it went perfectly.  Carol eased the halyard while I stood at the bow and pulled down on the luff.  We had chosen a morning with only a few knots of wind and the sail came down smoothly.  I had sprayed the luff tape with McLube when I bent it on, but as noted that was quite a while ago and I don’t know if it was still effective.

I will be interested is seeing how clean North can get the sails.  They are now six or seven years and 8,000 or 9,000 miles old and spotty.  But then so am I, though I have the excuse of being much older and having covered considerably more miles.

Hilton Head Island: voted

In South Carolina anyone over 65 can vote with an absentee ballot.  Not liking to stand in lines, I requested such a ballot.  It arrived Saturday.  I completed it and mailed it back today, but as I have already noted, it won’t matter.  One man, one vote sounds good, until you consider that the vote of an individual who believes in the current conspiracy theory that the U.S. Government is engineering hurricanes to sway the election counts just as much as does a vote of one who is sane, and when you consider that not all votes are equal.  Thanks to the anachronistic Electoral College put in place by our Founding Fathers who did not trust the common man, this election will be decided by votes in several ‘swing’  or ‘battleground’ states, of which neither South Carolina nor Illinois are one.  No matter how I vote, South Carolina’s votes in the Electoral College will go to the Republican candidate.  Those in Illinois to the Democratic.

Unfortunately Georgia is one of those swing states.  Unfortunately because Hilton Head’s television comes from stations in Savannah and the political ads are relentless.  This is a bipartisan complaint.  I am tired of them all.  I am tired of this campaign that has been going on seemingly forever.  I read that some voters are still undecided.  How can anyone be undecided with all that has been thrown at them unless they live under a rock?

I googled to learn how much is being spent on this election.  I found various numbers, but $15 billion dollars is common.  $15 Billion.  I don’t know whether to put a question mark or an exclamation mark after that.  

More than a decade ago I wrote:   

        Democracy does not work and never has, except perhaps on a village scale.  

        The United States is a plutocracy and always has been in which the monied nobility maintain their control by political contributions and lobbyists, while giving the masses the illusion of the vote.

Other countries similar to the United States do this better.  They call an election, campaign for a month, have the election, and the country moves on.

I have done my civic duty and I will be extremely glad when this election is over.

 

Hilton Head Island: unbent; two comments; five poems

 If one bends on sails, does one unbend them in removal?  If so I have unbent GANNET’s mainsail for the first time in six years and about nine or ten thousand miles.

I did so because a week from today Carol is going to drive us to Charleston where we will leave the sails with the North loft there to be cleaned and have a few minor modifications.  The sails came to GANNET while she was in Marathon in 2018.  They are North 3Di sails, laminated not sewn, and I have no knowledge how to clean them.  I do observe that mold lives in the marsh.

Unbending the mainsail on GANNET is complicated.

All of my boats since RESURGAM have had fully battened mainsails and Tides Marine luff tracks to enable them to be raised and lowered easily.  Fully battened mains sometimes don’t.  

The Tides Marine luff track is what complicates unbending the mainsail.

The process requires disconnecting the solid boom vane from the boom and disconnecting the boom from the mast.  In all five fittings with small, fiddly parts have to be removed.

I have done this before with the previous mainsail and it all went as smoothly as possible.

The roughly rolled mainsail is inside GANNET and the mainsail cover is at a local canvas shop for minor repairs.  I will lower the jib in the next few days.

When I go to sea, I go to sea and I disconnect from everyone, with the exception of a few word email to Carol once a week.  

Ashore I communicate.  On my own terms.  No social media.  I actually like email which gives time for a considered response.  I like comments for the same reason.

So here are two responses I made to comments today.

https://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/8396539239718442243/7202333056847037904

And in the YouTube video

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYTwmVzCJh4

I wrote:

Today is October 18, 2024.  This is the first time I have watched this video in a long while.

I think it does as good a job as possible in reducing a life that has now included six circumnavigations, six marriages, several more significant relationships, seven books and a million or so more words, into nine minutes.  However it seems we have killed the Storytellers project in the first episode.

The video is not mine.  The project is not mine.  I only participated in it in the hope that perhaps some who saw it would seek and read my words who otherwise would not have.  I don’t think that much happened, though the number of viewers may be greater than shown by YouTube. Other websites provided links.  Whether they are counted by YouTube I do not know.

A smart ass claimed bull shit because the location of Sebastian Inlet was not accurate on a chart.  He did not note that so was the location of Cape Horn probably because he has no idea where Cape Horn is.

I first saw the video only a few days before it was released and saw three errors of fact and one sentence I would have liked to have added.  I emailed Johnny Harrington, the director, but it was too late to make changes.

The first error is in the introduction where it is written that I have completed six solo circumnavigations.  I have not and have never claimed to.  Of my six circumnavigations, only three were completely solo.  A fourth was except for a few thousand miles.

The second is in showing a photo of THE HAWKE OF TUONELA and stating it is RESURGAM.

The third is misspelling RESURGAM as RESURGEM.

Some of not great importance, but I have a precise mind and like to be accurate.  And I note that no one else has ever commented on the mistakes.

The addition I would have added is before the comment about having nerve.  I have always prefaced that with “After planning and preparing to the extent of one’s resources nerve is…”

I am about to become 83, older than I ever expected to be.  And time and chance permitting, I may not yet be used up.

Here are the poems.

I read some each morning, some ancient, some modern.  It is a good thing to do providing perspective.  I have never claimed my way is the right way about sailing or anything else, but it has worked for me.  This might be good for you too.

From Tu Fu, 712-770 AD.

And from Robert Frost, 1874-1963.

I think they speak to one another across the ages.  I would have liked to be part of that conversation.

 

 

 

Hilton Head Island: sailed—a little

 

Saturday morning Carol walked down to GANNET with me at 8:30.  I had prepared the little boat the day before.  The Evo was on the stern.  The Pelagic tiller pilot in place although that proved futile.  The interior in semi-passage mode with the dinner food bag and a clothes bag that normally live on the port pipe berth moved forward to the v-berth and my sleeping bag and pillow moved aft to the pipe berth.  The anchor and rode deployment bag were under the forward hatch. I wanted to leave early to have some of the tide with me.  It was due to change and start coming in at the mouth of Skull Creek at 10:30.  

Light wind from the northwest required some use of outboard reverse, which I don’t like, but our exit from the slip went as planned and I waved goodby to Carol and we were off on a sunny morning.  Only light wind was forecast and I accepted that once the tide turned we might not get out of Port Royal Sound.  I was pleasantly surprised to be able to raise the main as we rounded the curve of Skull Creek and then the jib when we reached the sound and GANNET moved at 4 knots toward the ocean.  She has not been antifouled now for more than two years, but I had a diver clean the bottom two days earlier, so she slipped smoothly through green water.  It was good to be sailing again after so long.

Our speed dropped to 3 knots as we passed Hilton Head and entered the Atlantic.  Shoals extend out five miles on both sides of the entrance channel, some with water too shallow even for GANNET.  While in the sound the water is mostly 30’ to 50’ feet deep and there is room for a fleet to anchor, I am impressed that ships were able to enter in the days of sail in vessels that did not go well to windward.  I expect they anchored off, sent boats in to reconnoiter, and waited for a favorable wind angle.

I reconnoitered those shoals myself that morning.  In light conditions I could see slight white crests on some of them, but about three miles out the surface of the water was smooth and I eased off and headed for an area that on the iSailor chart shows a minimum of 11’ of water, hand steering and moving my glance constantly from the water ahead and the depthsounder.  Even though it was then low tide, I never saw a depth less than 22’ before it became deeper and we were through to 30’ and more, where we would remain, and I returned the tiller to the Raymarine, not the Pelagic.

Most equipment on GANNET worked at it should despite not having been used for too long, but regrettably the Pelagic was not among them.  It failed three separate ways.  First the remotes did not work.  I have two and had never used the second one.  I changed the batteries in both to no avail.  Not being able to control a tiller pilot from the companionway without having to move to the aft end of the cockpit and push buttons is in light and moderate conditions a mere inconvenience.  In heavier weather it can be difficult and hazardous.  That day only inconvenient, until while we were still in Port Royal Sound, the Pelagic suddenly and inexorably extended the tiller arm full out which of course resulted in a sharp undesired turn.  I switched it from auto to standby, corrected course, centered the tiller arm, and tried again.  And again in a few minutes the arm went full out.  I had moved one of my three remaining Raymarines from the duffle bag in which they are stowed at the forward end of the v-berth farther aft just in case.  A good idea.  I ducked below and brought it up and set it steering.  I have owned more Raymarines than I remember.  I mark the year bought on the back of them with a Magic Marker and by chance the one I had pulled from the bag was bought in 2015.  A true survivor.  Later in the day I changed the batteries in its remote and found that worked too.

To move ahead and conclude about the Pelagic, once at anchor I tried to test it again.  There was no response to any of the buttons on the control panel.  Not then.  Or the next morning.  Or back in the slip.

I like the design of the Pelagic.  I want it to work.  I assume they must work for others.  But I have now had two models, one a prototype, this a production model, and they have never worked for very long for me.

I can get by with sheet to tiller steering alone.  Even better with the addition of Raymarines which are fine up to the point where water starts coming over the deck.

I am still thinking about this, but I do not have confidence in Pelagic and don’t see how I ever can.

More Raymarines may be in my future.

I reclined in a Sportaseat in the cockpit as we sailed pleasantly at 3 knots toward Charleston until 2 PM when the wind died and the rippled ocean went glassy.  I anchored in 35’ of water 5 miles offshore and drank a Heineken 0 and ate cheese and salami and crackers Carol had prepared for my lunch.  Last Christmas she gave me a small Yeti cooler.  My beer was cold and I had ice for my Botanist gin in the evening.  I have become decadent in my old age.

I retired to the Great Cabin to get out of the sun and continued reading LORD JIM until around 6 when I poured some gin over ice and took it and the Boom 2 speakers on deck and sat sipping and listening to music as the sun sank toward the low land to the west.

I slept well that night.  The ocean was as smooth as a good anchorage.

With cursed Daylight Time, dawn here now isn’t until 7:30.  I was up at first light and underway by 7:30.  The same light wind as the day before.  GANNET making the same pleasant indolent 3 knots.  At 10 I still had 45 miles to be off Charleston Harbor and I knew I wasn’t going to make it before dark and that I would not attempt to enter the harbor after dark.  As you may know I almost never enter harbors after dark.  There have been a few rare exceptions, one is Port Royal Sound.  And despite the light wind, the forecast was for more than twenty knots to come up during the night, making just anchoring wherever I found myself at sunset untenable.  There are sounds and inlets to the west in which I could seek refuge, but all have miles long narrow entrance channels which I would have mostly to power in and out.  I had removed the battery from the Evo when we anchored Saturday afternoon and it was still charging.  I had swapped it out for the second fully charged battery, but even so our range under power is limited and uncertain and I don’t like to power, so I turned and headed back which instantly improved our day.

The wind was blowing at 4 or 5 knots directly from Port Royal Sound and with the apparent wind increased rather than decreased GANNET heeled slightly and began making 4 and 5 knots.  Not fast, but good sailing and it soon became apparent we would be back in the sound before sunset.

After several tacks we were approaching the shoal on the east side of the entrance channel in mid-afternoon.  Again the water was smooth and we were closehauled on port tack headed for an area where the chart showed as little as 6’ of water.  GANNET’s draft is 4’1” and we were heeled.  There were no waves, only ripples.  I remembered the greater depth than shown on the chart on the way out and continued on, prepared to tack instantly if the depthsounder showed 15’.  It never did.  The lowest reading was 19’.  Once the depth returned to over 30’ I eased the sheets and the wind increased and on a beam reach the little boat romped toward the mouth of the sound at 7 and 8 knots.  Glorious.

I planned to sail up the sound until we were just north of the entrance to Skull Creek and anchor for the night.  I thought I could have made it to the marina, but was happy to remain on the water for another night. 

Halfway up the sound I moved the anchor and rode deployment bag on deck. 

Two miles south of Skull Creek, the wind suddenly died.  It was as though someone had flipped a switch.  I let us drift for a few minutes hoping it would return, but when it didn’t I went forward and eased the anchor over the side.  We were in 40’ of water.  I had tied the rode off at about 70’ to set the anchor.  When I felt it catch, I eased out another 50’ of rode.  By the time I had done that the wind had returned.  After a few expletives, I decided to remain where we were, for which I paid a price the next morning.

The wind picked up during the night as forecast and we bounced around more in the sound than we had the previous night exposed in the ocean.  Still I slept well enough and was again awake around 6.  I turned on one of the solar lights and drank apple juice and a cup of coffee and read.  Later in the morning I emailed Carol—I had cell phone coverage—that I was going to wait for the tide to turn at noon before heading in.

The wind continued to build and was soon gusting 20 knots directly out of Skull Creek.  Had I been able to anchor where I planned on Sunday, reaching the mouth of the creek would have been an easy half mile reach.  Now it was a difficult two mile beat.

6” to 12” white crested wavelets covered the sound when I started bringing in the anchor rode at 11.  I am the windlass and it was hard work pulling even light GANNET forward against wind and tide, holding every 5’ or 10’ with my right hand while flaking the rode into the deployment bag with my left.  Finally, gratefully, I felt the anchor break free, got the rest of the rode and it on deck, then below on the v-berth, and hurried aft to set the jib.  I thought I could beat my way to the creek under jib alone.  It soon became obvious I couldn’t.  I partially furled the jib and raised the main.  This got us going at 3 and 4 knots, heeled gunnel deep.  I furled more of the jib and got GANNET back more on her bottom and began tacking.  However I was disappointed to find that the clutch holding the main halyard allowed it to slip a few inches causing a sag at the tack of the mainsail.  This had happened in the past and I had installed a new clutch designed to hold line the size of GANNET’s main halyard.  It worked for a while.  Perhaps the line had stretched and become thinner.   

While most of the sound is deep, there are shoals, some unmarked.  I had to keep glancing at the iSailor chart on my iPhone which I had with me in the cockpit, usually stowed in one of the sheet bags, to keep clear of them.  The wind was too gusty for the Raymarine, swinging from 8 or 9 knots to 20 and 21, so except when I put the tiller in the Raymarine to tack, I hand steered.

Being pushed back by wind and tide, it took us an hour to get to Skull Creek, where I furled the jib, engaged the Evo, then lowered the main and powered at 2 to 2.5 knots, now partially tide aided the 1.8 miles to the marina and our slip where we tied up at about 1 pm.

I had to hand steer some of that as well as the wind and tide kept pushing GANNET around.  I was able to use the Raymarine long enough to drink another Heineken 0 and set up the fenders and dock lines.

I checked the Evo battery and it was still at 84% when we reached the slip, so I could have powered faster or farther had I wanted to.

I received a new Yellowbrick, this a model 3, a few days before we sailed.  My previous one was a model 2 and more than ten years old.  Yellowbrick sent an email about a sale, so I decided to replace it.  The two units look the same, but the 3 sends up positions in much less time, reportedly has much better battery life, is obviously much more powerful, and is considerably less expensive.  My memory is that I paid almost $900 for the Model 2 ten or eleven years ago.  The Model 3 on sale was $500. 

I took the new Yellowbrick down to GANNET to test it and after sending up a manual position which appeared on the tracking page, which is the same as the old tracking page, left the unit on the boat, but forgot to turn it off.  It was stowed in the compartment at the head of the starboard pipe berth with the antenna pointed forward away from the main hatch’s clear view of the sky and under a counter top.  I had it set to upload positions every two hours and as you can see it did and they were received.  I am impressed.  

Also note the one aberrant position.  Most were very close to the true position, but that one was not.  A lesson learned.

I am glad to have sailed a little, to have spent time on the water, and live the routine of boat life again.

I pause.

I like living here.  I like having GANNET so close.  But the truth is these are waters for power boats.