Other folks showed up. Some locals had been snug in their homes during last night’s storm. Others had been at anchor, either sound asleep or getting battered… I’ve no idea.
There was pressure in the air. Like a species waiting to migrate; we needed the signal.
I was nervous and mentioned it:
“I get all jittery before I launch. Like I’m going to screw up and wind up swimming. I can’t wait until I get a little more experience so that goes away.”
One of the more nautical looking guys replied:
“That never goes away.”
I picked this as a mellow replacement to canoes? Shit!
Then everyone headed out. I don’t know why at that particular moment. Maybe it was a change in the winds? For all I know it was pheromones and hand signals. My new “first mate” showed up, we hiked to car jail, and carpooled to the ramp.
[Note: I use the term “First Mate” with respect and kindness, I don’t want to violate someone’s privacy by using their name. If “First Mate” is insulting or a euphemism for something they do on Epstein’s Island (egad!) that’s not my intention.]
My intended design specs for my boat are “from driver’s seat to sailing in 15 minutes”. This is, apparently, a tall order. I think I’ll get there though.
[Note: My nautical terms are meant for a blog reader and not Popeye. If I’m misusing vocabulary don’t dogpile me.]
Rigging a boat is a flurry of knots and lines (if a rope is nautical it’s a “line”) and a dozen minor but required tasks. I have to affix the rudder, raise the mast (by hand, it’s pretty light), throw in various gear, unstrap from the trailer, remember the oars, find my life vest, tie on the boom and yard (a boom is the pole of wood on the bottom of the sail that will hit you in the head, the yard is a diagonal boom at the top of the mast/sail), etc…
Then comes the haulyard. The haulyard is the thing that hauls the yard up the mast. Clever name eh? When you pull it, you get to say “hoist the mainsail” non-ironically. [For the knowledgeable readers, I’m rigged with a balanced lug.]
When I’m ready to pull the haulyard I discover I screwed up. Every time I forget to thread the line through the block (pulley) at the top of the mast. Down comes the mast, the line goes through the pulley, through a ring that has been recently relocated, around the mast (to keep the sail from shifting too far away from the mast), and stoutly tied to the yard’s outer end. Bowline… rabbit comes out of the hole, around the tree…
Meanwhile me and First Mate were having a verbal dance of politeness. My rigging was out of whack. I knew the sail wasn’t rigged quite right. It looked weird but I couldn’t say how. The positioning and tensioning of knots is something of a trial and error situation. First Mate knew what was wrong but deferred to me because it’s my boat, I built it, and possibly because I look like a serial killer. I deferred to First Mate because I know jack shit about rigging and am not a slave to ego. I was there to learn! End result: there was a lot of deferring going on.
Him: “Um, I don’t mean to be rude but why did you tie the ring there?”
Me: “I picked an arbitrary spot somewhere in the middle of the yard. The instructions said ‘tie a ring on the yard’ but had no measurements.”
Him: “I think it would be better over there.” (He points to a place 10” up the yard.)
Me: “Awesome.” I untie it, move it, and re-tie it with an incredibly bad knot.
Him: “Um, I’m sure it’s OK but why did you tie that knot?”
Me: “Because it works on a tent. Please show me how to do it better.”
He undoes my mess and reties with a much cooler knot. It simply shines with awesome. He’s worried about annoying me but I’m delighted. This continued all through the process. In the end it takes at least half an hour but the sail is a zillion percent more awesome.
This is when I learn you can “hoist the mainsail” in a parking lot. Who knew? Every launch I’ve ever done has been a floundering mess as I drift helplessly around the ramp/dock trying to hoist the sail while already afloat. That’s how Jack Sparrow does it so I assumed it was necessary.
I back it down the ramp (with glorious sail already hoisted!) and…
STOP THE PRESSES! IS THAT A SUNK SAILBOAT JUST OFFSHORE?
Yep, there’s a 25’ fiberglass sailboat lying on the bottom. It’s in shallow water so about 1/4 of the front deck is above water. It’s probably holed. Nobody knows why it’s there or where it comes from. I have terrifying visions of some poor bastard dealing with huge expensive repairs. The sails are not deployed so there’s conjecture it blew away from a marina during last night’s storm? That’s better than a dramatic “All Is Lost” situation. There are no bodies floating about and no sign that it’s that sort of scene. Everyone shrugs and ignores it.
I’m pondering the spiritual ramifications. Launching my homemade craft within sight of a vastly more impressive and yet totally fucked boat seems arrogant: “Hey, Poseidon! I see you ate a 25′ commercially made sailboat for breakfast but I’m going to launch this tiny plywood box anyway. Bite me.”
On a more practical lever, all is well. For every other launch I’ve floundered helplessly at first, but this time the sail is ready to go. A quick tug on the mainsheet (the rope you use to position the sail) and it catches the wind. We sail away from the dock like a boss!
Launching is more a matter of “getting the boat going” than anything else. We’re gently underway but not fully deployed. That said, it’s already working smoother than me splashing about with oars. Our controlled motion gives me plenty of time to put down the daggerboard and rudder. (In earlier launches I tended to get blown to land before the sail was doing its thing.) Once the boards are down, we make a quick turn (either a jibe or a tack?) and boom… we’re in business! Thanks to the new tweaks the sail has a nicer curve than usual. Huzzah!
Impressively, my little craft is perfectly happy with the weight of two full grown men. First Mate handles the sail, I handle the rudder. Secretly I’m calculating the mass of First Mate. Imagine all the cool camping shit that would fall under his weight limit! Is ballast a good thing? Soon I’m daydreaming of sailing home with a deer after a nautical big game hunt.
How fanciful the mind wanders when it’s happy!