Going somewhere?

It's odd to hope you never see this deployed in earnest, or in the absence of the main vessel, really.

Having a freer hand with the boat gear purchases made the recently visited Toronto Boat Show reviewed last time a lot more fun than usual. But I've spent a lot of time in research/review mode, as well, trying to make the best choices in gear for our vessel's voyaging. First up of the "big buys", if just about the last to arrive, is the Viking RescYou six-person liferaft. Last to arrive, because the clock starts ticking on the service schedule from when the raft arrives, and we don't need to mount this until after we launch in late April. We also got the rail-mounted cradle and the "hard" container, as this isn't something I want to muscle out the companionway if things go pear-shaped. We already have a ditch bag and are debating its contents, but a handheld watermaker is already in there.

Now, to rig jacklines and bolt padeyes in all the right places.

Continuing on the safety front, we now have a pair of Wichard ProLineR 2m/1m safety tethers. I picked this version for flexibility as I plan on installing Kong Tango carbiners on jackline webbing as needed and snapping onto that. This allows the smaller shackle to be used on "static" clip-ons, such as padeyes on the mast tabernacle or wire. A shout-out to Attainable Adventure Cruising, which has been, as in so many other areas of offshore sailing, a source of great value.

Self-rescue the better way.

Now, tethers keep crew on the boat, when used effectively and without exception. But you'll see the problem inherent in the system: human behaviour, plus simple misfortune of, say, tripping off the boat. There are a number of ways to address this, starting with "always wear your PFB on deck. Always." Now, after that, the options multiply. We've had PLBs (pictured is the successor to ours), and we have liferings and throwing line slings and danbuoys and assorted means to retrieve a COB (crew overboard). But the device pictured above is a step beyond.

Arguably, the most dangerous time for a crew is watchstanding at night; smaller crews, as ours will largely be unless we pick up crew, will have the nightwatch hours split into two or three shifts, at least one of which will have only a single crew, tethered on deck, awake. Should a crew fall off the boat, this AIS MOB1 will not only transmit to the AIS receiver on board, it will also send a DSC alarm to the VHF, which is going to wake up everyone on board. Lastly, it's got a strobe. Save for survival conditions (stay aboard, kids), in which case the crew would almost certainly be awake and tethered and ready for anything, this seems like a game-changer for self-rescue, a topic that has interested me for some time. Fact is, in most cases, save relatively near to shore, the boat from which the crew has unexpectly departed is best placed to get their crew back alive. Search and rescue not only take time, they are generally not available more than a couple of hundred NM offshore. So this is a helpful advance.

Hello, hello? Dinner is ruined!

Now, what about the boat? We could have a medical emergency, a dismasting or a small fire that cripples our ability to make passage. We needn't be sinking. We needn't be taking to the liferaft. But we may have to call in outside help. That when you trigger the EPIRB. I selected this model for its balance of features, and because we also have a functioning PLB and will also have a satellite phone and handheld VHFs with GPSes (as does my watch). We are making it hard to get lost, frankly.

Slightly less capacity, greatly less corrosion, much easier to haul to shore.

Speaking, more or less, about cooking up solutions, we have now a fibreglass propane tank to replace the steel one that came with the boat, which is at least 13 years old and probably uncertifiable. This one will be easier to haul ashore empty or filled.

I can see clearer now and can correct for variation.

These were not strictly necessary as I possess fairly good, if vintage, Kurt Muller circa 1940s 7 x 50 binoculars. But these Steiner Navigator ProC binoculars have a built-in compass and very impressive optics, making buoy spotting or bearings to landmarks very simple, once I figure out how the steel deck affects them. Experience suggests "a lot" for my compact wife and "not at all" for my loftier son and myself...the steel seems to bother compasses to about the 165 cm. mark above deck and then hardly at all.

If you're going to pump with enthusiasm, go hydraulic.

The quest to install the autopilot has taken a great leap with the ordering of an Octopus reversing piston hydraulic pump and a Navico NAC-3 "core pack" and some associated gear that will make helming, we hope, a doddle. More on this as the pieces arrive.

I don't favour Gill particularly, but we've ended up with Gill gear because we've had very few issues with it and it's good value for our money, particular if you buy last year's wonderfoulie. But then we have a dry boat.

Lastly, Mrs. Alchemy is off to Brittany this week to take an RYA course in (very) tidal waters. So in our traditional mode of seeking bargains in discounted foulie gear, she picked up a rather nice set of Gill OS23 jacket and offshore pants at a good price. I didn't make a sound when she got some long-sought-after duBarry sea boots (not pictured as they were closeouts). I remain stuck with Canadian Tire wellies, as nothing else fits me.

And that's enough for now about how we spent our Christmas money!

The one with the boat show

Small boat or large driver? Hardly matters in a pool.

WARNING: Graphics-heavy supersized post follows! The annual Toronto boat show is an odd event for me. It's been years since I went solely to check out new boats, and the kind I prefer (sailboats) have become increasingly rare over the years as the nature of the boating community has, as we shall shortly learn, shifted away from wind-powered fun to one predicated on fossil fuels.

A HobiePhat? Inflatable, portable pontoon thingie.

But as we own a diesel-driven motorsailer, I risk hypocrisy here, even though we try to motor very selectively and have kept the hours low. But it's a definite trend at the boat show: I have never seen a greater variety of powered fishing boats, runabouts, outboards and cabin cruisers in one place. So...much...chrome...And so much for carbon taxes, eh?

On the other hand, this is the Canadian-approved Honda eu2200i and "companion" pair of gensets, a way to get about 3600 watts of 120 VAC, or 30 amps (continuous) in two approximately 20 kilo "luggables". Now, for us, this is an attractive alternative to having a small diesel genset aboard as it is portable (as either one or both in operation) and needs little gas to run for several hours (which we would carry for the small outboard we're bringing) and allows us to run pretty serious standard power tools without engaging the inverter off the battery bank, which is generally considered "lossy". In addition, a pair of these can themselves charge the house bank or to power the watermaker, should the renewables and the alternator be out of commission. Another option is to bring them ashore if we need to do work (or help locals) on distant beaches. Lastly, they can be fit in existing compartments and lashed in place for safe stowage. I've had the predecessor model, the eu2000i, for some 10 years and the Hondas are reliable and well-built. And yes, I know not to run them at the bow when anchored.

I will point out that the speed limit in Toronto Harbour is six knots.

Overcompensating, Skip?

The Honda 2.3 HP aircooled outboards now out are not to my mind worth the upgrade from my simple, 12 kilo Honda 2, and while propane-powered outboards abound (which I don't entirely understand, given the energy density of propane versus gasoline or diesel, although I'm willing to stand corrected), there is seemingly no other air-cooled outboard option.

Because I would go for a 3 or a 3.5 HP one of those, thanks to the weight savings and mechanical simplicity of an air-cooled four-stroke outboard...and yes, they are noisy little buggers, but you can refill them from a water bottle if you want. Well, a water bottle capable of holding gas safely.

There's a 2.5 HP Yamaha, but it's water-cooled and about four kilos heavier than the one we own.

So...many...fishing boats.

...but enough fish?

Now, powered boats of all kinds have always dominated the Toronto boat show, and given the thousands of small lakes and rivers within 500 km. of here, that's not surprising. But the floor space devoted to sailboats has declined precipitiously in recent years and appeared to be at a new low, to judge by the shoved-off-into-one-corner appearance of the few Hanses, Dufours and Beneteaus present.

So, maybe 10 sailboats?

A new approach to making bow thrusters accessible?

Rectangular portlights...ugh. The grey hull is nice, however.

I usually prefer the Dufours, but they've gotten as "samey-samey" as most other production boats at these price points.

More on Boat Show sailboats (and powerboats) a little later, but the changes at the show arguably reflect more than reinforce changes in the marketplace demographics of boating, its costs and indeed, its likely future form. I had the good opportunity to sit down and talk boats with Wallace and Sharon Gouk, the survey/yacht delivery team responsible for Port Credit Marine Surveys.

Fits the driveway, doesn't need the dock.

Veterans of the local boating scene and long-time liveaboards, neither is short of opinions on the changes in boating in southern Ontario and elsewhere over the years; indeed, Gouk posts on the popular Cruisers' Forum website. I asked him to speak as a surveyor to note some of the major changes he and his wife have seen in recreational boating over the last few decades. Wallace replied that, in terms of the demographics of the sort of boats with which he is involved, mainly "cruiser-type boats, whether power or sail", boating mirrors society. "People are getting older," Gouk says. "The demographics of [boaters] are getting older, too." He adds that "boating is becoming more complex, extremely expensive and it's hard for younger people to get into in until they collect the inheritance from the boomers."

The companionway is a little shallower, meaning there's extra stowage in front of the engine here. Clever? Depends how hot it gets, but that's decent access to critical stuff for a production boat.

But Gouk does not see money as the only obstacle to the continuance of a thriving recreational marine scene. "I don't think the interest is there among the young people" he says. "There's a bit of a different attitude that goes way beyond boating. Kids are coming out of school with [significant] debt. That changes their attitudes about everything. The ones that have an interest are looking at smaller, trailerable boats, or at chartering, but for a young family to lay out $200,000 for a good used cruising boat, that's not going to happen."

One pair of winches on a 41 footer? Huh. I'm going to three this spring.

Gouk sees a decline in sailboats of the cruising type, but also sees a fallback in sales of the larger cabin cruisers and powerboats. "Nobody's doing very well [on new boats]." But the outlook is perhaps even worse for used boats. The surveying couple, who also do the appraisals on seized boats for Port Credit Harbour Marina, part of which is a "graveyard" for abandoned boats, sees more 'classic plastic' as unsellable at any price and destined to be cut up for scrap. 

"That particular problem I see as mushrooming over the next five to 10 years," says Gouk. "The shell of the boat, the part that's going to last forever, that's the cheapest part of the boat. It's the systems inside of the boat that are really expensive. People buy a 32-foot sailboat? I can take you to 50 of them right now you can get for $500. People go into this with the dream of 'I can fix that up' ...well, maybe, but it's going to cost you $3,500 per year to store the boat while you're fixing it up."

Hmm. Why boating's in decline is no mystery.

Gouk does not see, in his work as a surveyor, the level of competence he would hope to see in restored boats, noting that "marine electrical work is different from that done on land". Your correspondent can agree with the assertion. Nonetheless, the skilled amateur wanting a cheap boat has not got long to wait. "In the used boat market, the prices are dropping simply because boomers are dying off," says Gouk. "The biggest tip-off is in the demographic make-up of the yacht clubs. The younger kids have an entirely different outlook on life. They're not coming in at the bottom of the market to pick up an old boat."

The man I sold Valiente too is in his (quite fit) 70s...I have to concur.

This realistic assessment may extend to even the more popular brands of "good old boat". Gouk, who has been inside hundreds of them in a near-forensic assessment of their qualities, is emphatic: "There are no 'good old boats'" he says. "You get into those older boats, and there's gate valves, solid-core household-grade AC systems, and sloppy construction techniques. And yet some of them are still very expensive on the used boat market."

Having had a '70s boat, which, besides its fine sailing qualities, was more or less a ready-to-sink firetrap when I bought it, I can only concur. A special thank you to the Gouks for spending time with me and I encourage a visit to their interesting and comprehensive website for some great resources (and some horror stories!) from deep inside the world of boats. 

These lads were doing fine work for an underappreciated cause that could render a lot of fishing, save for carp, unlikely.

But back to the show. The numbers support Gouk's assertion of a shrinking market for boat owners of all types. According to show management,

"the 2019 Show attendance totalled 73,464, down 5% from 2018, having experienced 8 out of the 10 days with major snowfall, ice and extreme cold across the province effecting travel for show-goers. The closing weekend had over 1,800 e-tickets unredeemed, likely due to weather conditions."

Likely, sure, but a lot of clubs in the Toronto area also have empty docks, and as noted, the demographics of people who might enjoy boating of any type are getting longer in the tooth...how are you going to get a 24-year-old into a Shark when Netflix is streaming?

This looked to be popular, but as we sail pantless offshore, it would be rather inappropriate for our lifestyle choices.

That said, sales were apparently reasonable enough to keep vendors happy; Mrs. Alchemy worked a few shifts for Genco Marine, which we have personally enriched this winter with multiple purchases I'll outline in a later blog post. Anyway, my co-skipper reports that sales appeared to be strong this year (the incentivizing discounts no doubt played a role), and other vendors with whom I spoke gave the impression that the trade was "fewer, but better". May this continue. The boat show is a big regional draw, and irrespective of my attendance, or indeed our presence in Canada, a lot of people would still clearly miss it.

More square windows? Have they never heard of the Comet jetliner?

I often go not to see the boats...I mean, we have a boat...but to see the innovation. With a steel pilothouse cutter that will plow more than glide through the waves, "slick" isn't a priority. Advances in control gear, safety gear and the "working the boat" elements are, and I like to quiz various vendors, especially at the less-frequented booths, about lingering, obscure questions I might have. Pro-tip? Go on a Monday or Tuesday of the show, because the mornings are sparsely attended and you'll have the marine industry pro's attention more easily than on a weekend.

This pro must have been on break.

For instance, I had a particular issue in that want to weld on studs for hull anodes this year. Without going into detail at this stage, I have to change over from freshwater-sutiable magnesium anodes to ones capable of providing protection to our steel boat in brackish and salt water, at least until we get our hull recoated. We are going out to the sea via the St. Lawrence this summer, and it had been recommended to me that I switch to aluminum anodes for the hull, rudder (aluminum, too, but of a different grade) and prop. I could source them, but I could only find zinc anodes to fit my DF-107 model VariProp. Well, they exist and I found that out at the show. Fizzing averted.

Found out some details about EPIRB registration here, as well.

Along with the multitude of free and paid educational seminars available (although Paul and Sheryl Shard and Andy Schell and Mia Karlsson were not present this year, both of whom I count as friendly acquaintances and at whom I enjoy throwing impertinent questions, the show remains a great place to pick up knowledge without actually getting wet in the process. I think in the rush to promote big, shiny things, this aspect of the show is somewhat underplayed, but as we are about a thousand miles from the ocean...and it's winter...time spent learning from sailors on break from full-time lives aboard (or people like forecasters or delivery skippers) is of great utility and interest.

This firm makes a Travelift not made by Travelift, which tends to monopolize locally the boat picking-up business.

A couple of last points: The commercial marine business is not well-represented at the boat show, and perhaps it should be. It is very difficult to convince Canadian youth to take trades-type jobs these days, but perhaps if they knew more about them, there'd been some attraction, interest and uptake. This booth, for Georgian College's marine trades courses, saw very little action and was tucked away in a presumably cheaper corner.

Didn't help that I couldn't attract this guy's attention to speak with him, so absorbed was he in his screens.

Perhaps that's the wrong approach for a labour-starved field to take.

I also noticed that some popular booths were not in attendance, particularly Garhauer Marine and Ontario Battery, both of whom from which I've bought significant amounts of gear in the past. I also noticed that Ray of Ray's Marine didn't have his usual double booth, or indeed any booth, another surprise and another vendor I've spent money with. While I can still find multiple outlets for pepperoni, hammocks, miracle waxes and Sperry shoes, it's the more "hardware" places I miss.

Holland Marine Products: I patronize them and will again.

Knowing our plans to depart this summer, I spent more time at the show than I had in years, and appreciated, I think, its rhythms and emphases. It's a circus, sure, and it's not necessarily even a place to score bargains (although I did pretty well in that regard this year, probably because I was keen to "finish" certain necessary areas on the boat). But it remains a great place to window-shop, to pick up well-priced "sundries" (every third person seemed to have a fender, foulie jacket or boat hook to hand) and to think of the warmer months to come.

I am surprised, but perhaps shouldn't be, at how many people I know, or run into, at the boat show.

Got a fresh 2019 almanac and confirmed we can order the charts for our big trek to Nova Scotia at The Nautical Mind.

Finally, like all boat clubs these days, our strong racing and junior sailing programs protect my own National Yacht Club from the march of time and division of attention that so strongly suggests boating 20 years hence will be even more niche an activity than it is now. However, it's not all gloom: the NYC booth attracted a lot of favourable attention, and the cadre of  over 30 friendly and informative club members acting as "ambassadors" garnered around 150 serious enquiries from people contemplating a club from which to enjoy life on the water.

Good. I'm rather fond of the place myself.

Sure, the location's great, but the people are pleasant, too.

Regrets and boat sales

One way to get it done. Photo (c) Yachtworld

"That's simply ridiculous when man with minimum education tells me that he's market expert (for example). Rip-off expert - I would believe so."

The above quote is from a recent Cruiser's Forum post in which an individual objected to being "pestered" by a broker with high-ball offers he judged, possessing the infinite wisdom of these sort of internet forum participants, unrealistic. There is a case to be made that apple polishing exists at the offshore end of the boat-selling spectrum, the potential passagemaking boat buyer needs to exercise some common sense about how worn boats at sea for years obviously can get.

You'd have to have been confined to a brig or live under a bridge not to realize how collapsed the market is for used boats, save at the nosebleed altitude of mega-yachts, and even those aren't commanding "oligarch" prices these days. Why would they? They are too numerous and it's cheaper to impress the people you want to have sex with on land.

I did find the obtuseness of the poster, however, interesting. He was simultaneously complaining that a broker he had approached for advice was pitching him boats, because he knew the prices were too high and resented the pitches. His contempt for the brokerage trade was not confined.

Brokers have a legitimate job in the ecosystem of the acquisition of boats, and, like used car sales folk, they are widely despised for it. But I'm not sure why the hate exists. The onus is on the buyer to ask for recent surveys, or, if the money involved or the lack of expertise on the buyer's side suggest it, to hire a purchase survey. The opportunities for getting ripped off are limited when reasonable boats in reasonable condition outnumber potential buyers. The broker, however, can be a useful filter in this process, but, in the era of Craigslist, Kijiji and other DIY operations, not a necessary one. But that is not their fault nor their concern.

The potential buyer can be correct about not needing a broker but can also be indifferent to their existence. And there is more than one way to sell or buy a boat, with variable levels of formality and agency. As an example, we just sold our house. I worked in concert with the realtor to show the place to ONLY developers, renovators, investment property buyers, and people who already owned houses in the area: in other words, to people who saw the place in context, didn't care that the paint was old and the floors needed sanding and that some of the improvements were visible through holes cut in the ceiling. That doesn't matter when you already know you are going to gut the place. It would be like putting on full makeup prior to having plastic surgery. So we didn't. I kept my old boat clean and gave it a cursory topsides buff, but I didn't, by a similar logic, pretend it wasn't 43 years old.

We avoided a general listing with the house. We showed it about a dozen times over five months. No "fluffing", no $25K "staging" or "white boxing": just a sign out front with the "Exclusive" label on it.

We named a fair price. We got that fair price. We paid a fraction of the usual commission. The tactic and the price was based on my extensive research of the 20 nearby houses that had changed hands in the last 36 months.

I mention these aspects because houses and boats sell according to similar agent/broker models, but those models are variable...if you, the buyer or seller, so request. If you don't like the game, change the rules. If you don't like the game with changed rules, don't play the game. I see non-garbage boats on Kijiji I would jump on, if I didn't already have a boat and if I knew anyone who wanted a boat...but, of course, I don't. If you're not paying a broker's cut because you resent broker's cuts, you can keep a surveyor on speed dial. Apart from the price used boats command, selling and buying one outside of the former paradigm is, like so many other fiscal activities in our brave new world, largely frictionless. That said, I can't blame a hungry and probably depressed broker for trolling any name they have. Neither should any buyer or potential buyer. After all, you may want to sell your boat someday, and, unlike an algorithm, a broker may not be interested in your custom at any price.

I had my first boat with a broker for 18 months. We showed it about 25 times. Not a single offer. A guy in my club offered me half of what I'd listed it for, no survey, all cash. I see my good old boat sailing off the mooring regularly. I have no regrets, save I'll never get those 25 showings' worth of time back. And that includes the hard and generally (in my experience) honest work brokers supply.

Fitzstakes

Apparently, the interior of the Fitzgerrald skipper's stateroom is visible in this shot. Good grief.

Risk assessment is more than reading a forecast or watching a radar's guard zone. It's a holistic, ongoing appreciation of what all sorts of inputs are saying while one is in command (or crewing) on a boat, including the harder ones to quantify, like gut checks or the smell of the air. It's too early to speculate on the precise chain of events that led to the recent incident involving a container ship that killed seven sailors on the U.S. destroyer Fitzgerald, depicted above, but even the already-known facts are reminiscent of the way another U.S. Navy ship, Guardian, managed to ground itself in 2013 on a charted reef (even if the charts were known to be predictably inaccurate), which led to a total loss. Ironically, considering the ecological damage done, the last biggish vessel to ground on this reef belonged to Greenpeace in 2005. Incorrectly, in my view, they also blamed the chart.

Minesweepers are made of wood, so a few weeks on coral...

...precludes a buffing-out.

It's a poor seaman, I think, who blames his tools. Charts feature dates of surveys, after all, and if you are heading into a remote or poorly surveyed area, it's best to know the quality of the data on which the plotter or paper positions are based, and to not try to shave time and distance down when there is any kind of ambiguity.

Our tools, in this case, our navigational tools, are not ourselves, or, to put it another way, they are not extensions of ourselves. While it is not always possible (think of a submarine at depth) to lay physical eyes and ears on our surroundings, to put more emphasis on representations of said surroundings, rather than going outside of the glass bridge to have a look-see, would seem imprudent.

Despite the as-yet absence of a full investigation (which, like the one that dissected the USS Guardian incident, may be redacted or opaque with naval jargon), a lot of mariners have discussed this incident as it features some fairly clear-cut premises on which modern civilian and military ships operate. Particularly hard-to-turn, unhandy and comparatively slow cargo vessels and agile, fast naval ships bristling with detection gear. As this article sums up, avoiding collisions is a shared responsibility, but U.S. warships are not supposed to be crept up on by 750-foot container ships.
 
How agile? This agile. This is the same class of destroyer as USS Fitzgerald.

If, as is customary, both ships were on autopilot, that doesn't get anyone off the hook, of course, as this more in-depth article suggests. The consequences are real and are, of course, tragic. While we think of warships as intrinsically strong, they are merely strong enough; if you want speed, you can't build a ship with 30 cm. thick sides. Most modern naval warfare involves missiles at a distance and countermeasures to missiles at a distance, not ramming. I cannot imagine what went through the skipper's mind as he was (apparently) nearly ejected from his ship. What is known is that it was a new gig for him.

Physics has the final word, again.

Even in the seaways with the most heavy use and the arguably most closely monitored traffic separation schemes (TSSs), the scourge of under-crewing and lax watch standards can cause ships to collide.  Again, this is a recent (July 1, 2017) event, but I will wager that someone who should have been looking around wasn't, or was beguiled by a screen. Makes sense in such circumstances to avoid ships entirely if they exhibit zombie-like behaviour, doesn't it?

Yes, the struggle is real.

Back in the small-boat realm, I just read a rather good article (in which the writer, rarely in my experience, seemed to have sailed and knows what a sailor would care to know when reading about a bad day on the water) on a heavy squall that hit a post-race group on Mobile Bay, Alabama in the spring of 2015. The description in the article make it clear that a host of factors led to tragic outcomes, but a few people chose not to race that day. The technology didn't fail those who did choose to race, but perhaps their instincts faltered. I can't make that judgment, frankly, and it would be hubristic to try. But I have noticed that a) people rely a great deal on technological inputs while sailing (readers may recall we ourselves recently updated our plotter) and b) the traditional skill sets of the sailor are beginning, I would argue, to wilt. Who sails today with just a handheld VHF and maybe a bulkhead compass? Perhaps the lack of screens might sharpen some skills that may be shown, once again and sadly, to be absent on some of the largest and most-crewed vessels on the oceans.

UPDATE, 17.07.15: Receent shots from the drydocking of the USS Fitzgerald suggest why crew died and how it was very fortunate that this ship did not go to the bottom: https://news.usni.org/2017/07/12/new-dry-dock-photos-show-extent-hidden-uss-fitzgerald-damage

Doing the right thing involves having the right skills

The video above is by Duncan Wells. I recommend a viewing. Recently, a tale of a careless and evidently unskilled boater doing a "hit and run" at a local club reminded me of a small incident in my own. A couple of weeks ago, my neighbour to the west at NYC in a Mumm 36 was being blown on and failed to allow for this in his solo turn to the east. He bent a stanchion on one of my fixed 1/2 in. steel tabs, which are welded to the deck pipe rail, and he hooked the one assigned to a future wind gen pole. 

The tab is identical on the port aft quarter as the one in this shot bearing the deck crane. Naturally, you can see why Alchemy did not budge. Unfortunately, I don't have a second fender on the inside...I never thought I'd get hit there.

I was aboard and heard, but didn't feel, the impact. I did hear nautical expletives and jumped off the boat to hear the member in question yelling that "he'd be back!" Fair enough; it's understandably traumatic when one dings the vessel and doubly so for an active racer who probably spends as much as me refitting just going around the buoys.

Mister Mumm docked on the wall to inspect his damage. Mine was about a dime's worth of blemished paint. I wasn't sore about it, and actually enjoyed experiencing the physics in play and realizing that my eight 3/4" dock lines worked as advertised, but I said if he saw my portlights open, just to knock on the boat and I would happily walk him out so he could stay at the tiller and throttle. 
 

Confused yet? Try it in real life on a calm day...much easier.

Maybe I'll explain "warping out", too, but really, this happens to everyone at some point. What's inexcusable is it happening more than once. I've been sailing now for about 17 years, much of it solo in a 33 footer, and now in a steel 42 footer four times its mass. Because of that, I try to take a lot of care coming and going, and simply go to the wall if my own dock is dangerous due to the conditions or I'm undercrewed. I don't hesitate also to ask for the dockmaster to take a (usually amidships) line against which I can maneuver with control. But then one has to know that seeking help to dock isn't representative of a lack of experience, but is simply prudent seamanship. 

I have seen in the last 17 years a decrease in the ability to handle sailboats in close quarters and rarely do I see anyone warping off or using simple line-handling (and prop-walk in a constructive fashion) to leave or enter docks safely. And yet it's not hard: here's one of the better books I've read lately on the topic:

Deficiencies in boat handling are real issues in most clubs these days: the absence of proper etiquette is grounded in the missing skill set that should be the baseline of responsible seamanship.

Mainly, over the winter

Drooping fenders Photoshopped out to avoid bruising the eyes of the sensitive...photo (c) Jeff Cooper

When I last discussed the topic of Alchemy's main, we had yet to actually sail with it. Well, now we have, and we and our sailmaker (Ron Fernandes of Triton Sails) have judged it's worthy to keep as a spare. In the meantime, as previously mentioned, it's been taken to Mississauga to act as a template for a new, 9.5 ounce, roachier, heavier-built new main.

It's only laid out on a floor that the curve of the luff and the "belly" of the sail are apparent.

I have the Tides Marine measuring kit and will order that gear shortly with American dollars put aside for such things. Ron concurs that it's a good choice for offshore, combined, of course, with mainsail lazyjacks to "tame" the now-reliably plummeting main. The combination of a main designed to be loose-footed, but with full battens (chafe-resistant patches in the right places) and tripled, UV-resistant stitching and reinforced grommets seems to be the way to go.

The little bits of line are called "reefing points" and allow an orderly capture of the unused folds, or "bunt" of a reefed-down sail.

The actual location of the reef points, which can be thought of as "gears on a sail" as they act to reduce sail area and therefore the ability of the wind to drive the boat, is still to be discussed. I favour a deep first and second reef for Alchemy, based on the her rather high S/AD ratio, i.e. she likes a good breeze to get going, although she will move in the light stuff, and this attitude is premised on a full hoist into the low 20-knots apparent wind range, but a deep first reef in order to take gusts to 30. The second reef could leave as little as 40% of the main's area still in play, or as John Harries puts it "the third reef". The question whether or not to use a storm trysail is still an open one, as of yet. I want to deliberately sail Alchemy in crappy, if transient, heavy weather here on Lake Ontario (if I can find it, and I seem to have that knack, alas) to see if even a fully reefed new main is too much when we intend to keep actively sailing, instead of hoving to. So more research and opinion-culling is called for, and I will be discussing in January my conclusions with our sailmaker, who is a genial fellow and seems quite pleased to be doing a relatively rare for him (given our inland locale) "offshore" mainsail.

In praise of older hydrography

Somehow you'd think the scale would be better.

Thank the Canadian Economic Action Plan, I suppose, for the low-res graphic above. For those sailors and casual readers who may wonder if they need to up their kale intake, it's the cover of the latest "Chart 1", the Canadian Hydrographic Service's glossary of terms and graphics that is the key to understanding and decoding (at least until it become second nature to do so) the paper charts mariners, including recreational sailors, are legally required to carry aboard under the Carriage of Charts provisions of the Canada Shipping Act, and which are available at the better sort of nautically minded shop. In some cases (but not all), electronic representations of these charts will suffice, but you need to have Chart 1 at hand as a navigational Rosetta Stone to read the hieroglyphs chart makers customarily use. Contrary to popular belief, the closer one sails to shore, the more crowded the water gets from the view of the nav table (another rapidly outmoding term) or the helm plotter.

The U.S. cover is also a litttle hard to read, almost as if it's trickling down.

Of the several countries' waters in which I've sailed (Canada, the U.S., Antigua, the USVIs, the U.K., France and Portugal), most seem to follow similar conventions regarding their nautical charts, and, as world shipping grew, this was reinforced in the last century by adherence to the standards of the International Maritime Organization (IMO). Looking back, the science of hydrography as a practice evolved in Europe during the Age of Exploration, although the Arabs and Chinese certainly made excellent maps and navigational tools. While the actual charts of coasts and little sugar-producing islands were guarded with the same strategically prompted ferocity as are nuclear missile blueprints are today, the conventions of hydrographical measurement tended to standardize on the British, and, to a lesser extent, the French, model. This was particularly true after the fixing of longitude became accurate and mechanically aided, and with the introduction of superior cartographic techniques. Yes, the books linked are strongly recommended for those sailors capable of prising themselves away from the latest romantic peregrinations of The Bachelorette.

The result is that, with any relatively modern country's equivalent of Chart 1, the sailor can use their local hydrographic services and charts. Bias does play a role here, however, as a few countries have charted most of the world for their own national reasons: the U.K.'s Admiralty charts are generally considered the most thorough, whereas the U.S. NOAA charts are both free in electronic form and are in easy-to-download formats amenable to printing. My own choice would be dependent on destination (former British possessions tend to be better charted by the British) and (this is critical) the last update of the chart in question. If the surveyor was Captain Cook, admirable, innovative and careful as that particular hydrographer/explorer was, take the observation as, at best, provisional, and charts based on inaccurate information, irrespective of the media of paper or pixels, is why you keep a watch. Even the chart printed yesterday unrolled aboard still whiffing of ink (or the plastic and brass of an SD card) is only a snapshot in time of what is really in front of one's bow.

One of these things is not like the other.

As such, the debate between which is better, paper or pixels, is, I find, rather sterile. As this brief but excellent paper examines, it is the evolving human tendency to "trust" machines that is causing to fall into abeyance the simple acts of direct observation that would keep electronically navigated vessels safer by simply looking out and around in order to provide a real-world context for what the Playstation Plotter is insisting is real. Any trip to a restaurant in the last five to 10 year will reveal several beautiful couples facing each other with their eyes locked on their smartphones, which, contrary to the name, do not make you smart. And yet I am far from a Luddite; along with Ben Ellison of Panbo.com, I believe the fault is not in our plotters, but in ourselves.

Get the picture, sailor?

This longing for mitigated and interpolated reality is curious to me in the same manner as gazing at a hammer before pounding a nail is. On the other hand, I started sailing in 1999, and, perhaps more importantly, started navigating in 1999 via formal instruction...and I have yet to stop. While plotters existed in somewhat more basic forms in 1999 and were even acknowledged as the coming thing, I was trained to use paper charts in order to grasp the essentials of navigation, such as taking bearings off land marks, the difference between magnetic and true compass readings, and using every bit of information available to me, such as "running the depth contour" to give me a greater confidence that me and my boat were where we should be...or to suggest and confirm that we were not, a situation that can evidently affect even the most well-equipped vessels. Plotters are great and are inarguably convenient, naturally, but I am starting to conclude that they only make you a better navigator if you were a pretty good navigator to begin with. If you are not, on what basis are you going to find errors that could kill you? Faith-based navigation works about as well as anything else faith-based: while there are aphoristically no atheists in foxholes, there are no fundamentalists wielding dividers.

The British example of eyestrain.

For those who suspect that their plotters, if not actively leading them astray, are not teaching them the situational awareness critical to safe and thorough navigation, there's hope in the form of formal instruction, or even in the purchase of dead-simple flash cards and books with which the sensible sailor can grasp the related fields of chart mastery, buoyage, pilotage and who exactly gives way to whom in a crowded (or not) seaway.

Don't leave dock without them.

While British (and while you have to grasp the IALA buoyage system differences), these are of enormous help in relating what the charts says to what you are rapidly approaching and what that might mean to earning a sundowner.

Particularly helpful, and thanks to John C. for the review.

Clearly, if one wishes to spend enough money, there are electronic plotter setups,  particularly the newer (and priced accordingly) ones that provide a 3D view, that can allow easy navigation, especially at night or in fog when, short of creeping right up to a numbered buoy (which I have done more than once) to confirm one's location, you have little other options short of stopping, heaving to, or anchoring, if possible.

Bay Lake, as Canadian as "Avenue Road".

A compromise, rather than the multiplicity of proprietary formats of the various plotter manufacturers is to use a means to rendr paper charts in electronic form, as is the case with the free OpenCPN and other raster-based displays. For some, the familiarity of the paper chart (which have the advantage of the standardized symbols as well as the typically faster updating of a national hydrographical authority) makes the use of raster or vector (know the difference!) charts in electronic form easy, and in some cases, intuitive.

Warning: May not be intuitive.

So if you have paper charts, as is still required, you might as well use them, or at least be able to read them. Gleaning through your local charts with the relevant pages of Chart 1, perhaps with a suitable beverage, is still a good place to start. I daresay that you'll get more out of the fleeting squiggles on your nav app-equipped iPad if you choose to use one. I opt for a mix because sailing for me is more engaging when I have puzzles of trim, helm and, yes, navigation to solve. I have a GPS, several in fact, but I like to take bearings and make little cocked hats and whip out the sextant and even to swing the lead to determine that it's right. It nearly always is, of course. It's the electronic chart that may be wrong: Paper charts, too, can be, or at least you can be the first poor bugger to confirm that by means other than mere charts.