To Baltimore!

It was after 3 before we got underway. Condor had been launched about noon on Friday afternoon. We had watched her be lowered into the water then quickly jumped aboard to check for leaks. Through-hulls weren’t leaking. Stuffing box was dry, as was the stuffing box on the rudder. Condor was floating with no problems.

We fired up her Westerbeke 27 and motored clear of the travel lift slings. With only ideas as to how she would handle, we put her though her paces under power. With her off-set propshaft and folding prop we weren’t quite sure what to expect. Somewhat surprisingly, she quickly came to a stop when put in reverse, and with very little propwalk. We turned a circle to see how she would respond and to get a feel for her before we maneuvered into the inside of the fuel dock where Lenny had told us to go.

We decided to back down into the spot. Condor handled herself well as we slowly came to a stop with another boat just astern of us. We needed to get the new main on, get some water in the tanks, and inspect the non-functioning steaming and anchor lights.

A trip up the mast showed that the lenses were crazed and the fixtures corroded. We could walk the mile and a half to West Marine to get new and go back up the mast to install them or just head out. While Solomons is nice, we didn’t think we wanted to spend another Friday night there. Our last experience was the week before. Party seemed to go on forever and the restrooms reeked of vomit the next day.

The decision was made. We bent on the new main, filled the tanks and headed out. There were a few boats coming and going as we left. Most were fishing boats, heading out with their patrons eager to land the prize rock fish or coming back with either elated or dejected passengers. The fish that had been brought in that morning were between 3 and 4 feet. Nice prizes for those who had been lucky enough to land one.

As we passed cleared Drum Point, we hoisted the main to take advantage of the Southerly wind. We cranked on the halyard and the main went up and stopped. The brand new slides bound in the track. With a little alternating pressure of pulling down on the main and up on the halyard, the main went up. We turned north, shut off the Westerbeke and let the sails take over.

The light ten knot wind and the chop from the powerboats made for a rolly ride. Our course was almost due north. We had the Genoa out to port and the main to starboard for a wing-on-wing run up the bay. We knew we had no anchor or steaming light so we would sail all night or find a quite anchorage where we could get away with just hanging a flashlight from the spreader halyard.

With little need for navigating, I went to work on other repairs that we hadn’t yet finished. Suzanne was properly coated with sunblock and had plenty of water to keep her hydrated. I turned to rebuilding the manual foot galley pump. The foot pump gurgled when pressed rather then actually pumping water.

The previous owner had the foresight to buy a rebuilt kit and stow it on the boat. Later I would understand how important this was. So, with the dozen and a half new gaskets and “O” rings, I went to work disassembling the pump. Rebuilding the pump is a challenge unto itself. Reassembly requires four hands in the space of one. Pressure on one side of the pump to hold that gasket in place pushed the opposite gasket out of place. Compound that with the rolling of the boat as the screws and nuts run across the navigation table as soon as they are needed. But, with much persistence, the pump rebuild was completed and the pump reinstalled. At least we would have water to use for washing.

Now it was dinner time. We had missed lunch as we were scrambling to get underway. The warm sun was giving way to the cooler evening breeze. Hot soup would be good. We reconnected the CNG (compressed natural gas) tank to the line. With the stove off, we opened the tank, watched the gauge go up to 2200psi, and shut it off. We then employed the complex fume detector know as the human nose, and sniffed for leaks. With the stove and tank both off, the gauge held the 2200 psi for about half an hour. We figured we were okay especially since CNG is lighter than air and the fumes should dissipate out of the open cabin.

If you are into this kind of stuff, you may have heard that CNG is less efficient than LP gas. With that in mind, I proceeded to heat the soup in the one pan we had aboard. (I didn’t feel like installing the inverter so I could run the microwave). Within a minute and a half, the soup was steaming hot! Our 1000 watt microwave would have taken 5 minutes to get it up to this temperature.

With warm full bellies, we contemplated our trip and the closing darkness. Should we make for an anchorage or marina, or just keep sailing. We decided we would just sail. This was fine until about 10 p.m. and our light breeze went away. Tired by the flapping sails, we decided to take them down and motor to a quite bay to anchor. Just east of Thomas Point Light, it would be about a 5 mile motor to White Hall Bay.

With the sail not willing to move either up or down, we knew the only way to persuade it was to go up the mast to the offending slide and gently work it down. Not a big deal since it was stuck just above the lower spreader. This would be just a little more complicated since it was dark and there was the gentle rocking motion which is amplified 20 feet above the deck. I strapped on the harness and tied into the halyard and got Suzanne situated to hoist me up. Yeah, it seems a little backward for the 125 pound person to hoist the 225 pound person up the mast, but this is the way it was going to be. Suzanne is not fond of swinging freely from the mast, especially in the dark.

Since there was nothing around and we didn’t want the engine noise to be yet another barrier to this task, we decide to just drift while we did this. Just as she got ready to hoist, we heard a powerboat. It was moving pretty fast and seemed to be heading our way. Maybe we should just hang on a second. Yep, the lights were headed right for us. A white, a green and a red light glowed. Wait, what is that? The boat slowed and a figure on the foredeck called out to ask if we were okay. I explained that we simply had a fouled slide and was just about to go up the mast to free it. The figure asked if we were able to get underway, to which we replied to the affirmative. He suggested that we get underway to the north directly. I explained that it would only be a minute to free the slide – ten minutes at the most. He calmly informed us that in ten minutes there would be a cargo ship dropping her anchor in our exact spot – whether we were there or not.

With his gentle persuasion, we decided to fire up the Westerbeke and motor north. After motoring about a half of a mile, we figured we were free of the anchoring cargo ship and went back to the flogging mainsail. Suzanne hoisted me up and with the same up and down on the sail and halyard in addition to an outward pull, the slide was free and the sail came down.
We flaked the sail and headed to White Hall Bay, settling in on the anchor about midnight. And of course, as soon as we turned in, the wind picked up and shifted and provided us with a couple of bumpy hours when what we really wanted was some sleep.

Bright and early Saturday morning, we were up and about. A look around the anchorage showed a distant ketch as a neighbor. We had seen his anchor light when we came in, but it disappeared as we prepared to anchor. Meanwhile, our little LED flashlight had burned all night.

We opened the gate to let the slides out and dumped out new main on the deck. The handy leatherman was put to use filing and smoothing out the rough casting of the bronze slides. Reluctantly, Suzanne went about half way up the mast to clean the track and sand any corrosion or rough areas. The sail was fed back in and a liberal coating of Teflon grease was applied to the track and the bronze slides. Once up, we dropped it about halfway just to make sure it would come down. No problems.

It was about 11 by the time we headed out of White Hall Bay. We scrubbed the mud from the anchor as we pulled it up and put it back in the locker. Condor needs a bow roller if we’re going to be anchoring. Lifting that Danforth 22 and her chain around the pulpit is no fun.
Once clear of Hackett Point, we hoisted our sails and headed north. The Annapolis NOODs were underway just to our south and it was quite a sight to see over 70 boats out racing. We spotted a boat on an intersecting course and figured it would be under the bay bridge long before we got there. I have to admit that I was a little surprised as we closed on this boat and were soon overtaking the Beneteau 47.7. I knew Condor should be fast, but to pass a much larger boat downwind, was a little more than I expected.

The sail to Baltimore consisted of the same southerly and we sailed wing-on-wing all the way up the bay with little excitement. Our only real entertainment was wondering why the young child was being towed in the dinghy behind the sailboat. Was it a time-out? Was that his way of sailing? Did Dad just need a little time away from junior? We’ll never know.

With the genny poled out, we were able to carry the wing-on-wing sails all the way to Fort McHenry. Turning a 180 just past Domino, we dropped the Genoa on the deck and tidied it up. The southerly wind allowed us to gently drift up to the dock at the DSC. Condor made it to Baltimore.

The hardest task goes unfinished

Although I haven’t updated the blog, as promised, to include the various tasks we’ve accomplished, there is one daunting task that is yet unfinished. I’m sure you’ve all (by that I mean all four of you that read this) have reached some monumental task that has brought your progress to a screeching halt. This is the kind of task that creates an impasse and makes you wonder if you can ever move past it.

Without spoiling the upcoming blog entries where I’ll be filling in all the details of the work we accomplished, we’ve done some pretty substantial things. We pried up the teak and holly plywood and removed the rotten plywood from underneath, replacing it with new epoxy coated plywood. Not an easy task, but we were able to plan and execute it.

We rebuilt and lapped (ground to a perfect fit) the tapered bronze seacocks. We dropped the rudder, repaired the rudder tube, replaced the rudder and greased the rudder shaft. We faired the keel, which was a huge job. We ground off layers and layers of paint and repainted her.
We rebuilt the cooling system on the Westerbeke 27, replacing corroded parts and custom fitting others to save money. We even rebuilt the galley pump while underway, on out trip to Baltimore. We’ve worked and struggled to make Condor look almost as good as she did the day she was launched 25 years ago. In a sense, we have been able to turn back the hands of time.
You would think, or at least I think that you would think that there would be nothing that could stop these two people. But, alas, this one task has brought progress on Condor to a stop. I must confess, I have found the one thing that I cannot overcome.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not so conceited that I have to do it on my own. I’ve even enlisted the help of people I respect. These are people who I think are far more experienced and capable in this area. They have all offered their suggestions and yet the task goes uncompleted. I turned to a professional for some assistance and all he was able to do was complicated the matter.

Now, every time I go to Condor this one project hangs over my head and leaves me feeling lost and inadequate. So, I make up my mind to ignore this task for the time being and move on to another project. I’ve got a new deck light to install. I’ve got a replacement pressure water pump. There are other projects to complete. But every time, this one task completely saps my energy and I can accomplish nothing.

So, by now you are either so eager to hear what this project is or you have lost interest and aren’t even reading this line. I was shocked that this one thing could leave me so completely powerless.

I can’t pick a color! There, I’ve said it. I humbly admit that I can take a derelict boat and turn it around into a beautiful yacht, but I can’t pick a stinking color. We need to make a sail cover for our new mainsail before we can leave it rigged on the boat. That doesn’t seem so hard, does it?
We found color samples on the internet. I picked out what I thought was good. Suzanne was okay with it. Then I looked at the colors samples on a different computer and they looked completely different. The obvious pick didn’t seem so obvious anymore. How about Concord? That’s a nice blue – until you look at it on another computer and fine out it’s purple!

So, I turn to a professional. I go right to the source. I call Dan at SailRite and tell him I need his help. Dan’s a great guy, always ready to help. He offers to give me a few samples of the colors I’m considering so I can see what they really look like. So I name off the eight that we’re considering and he snips off some samples. Then her goes a step farther. He’s doing me a huge favor. He loans me his personal Sunbrella fabric sample book. This has all the 74 colors. And not just the printed colors, but real samples. So, armed with my eight samples and my book of 74, I head off to pick the color. Or so I try to convince myself.

I like Oyster. It’s a nice off-white that matched the off-white of the non-skid on the deck. Suzanne says it will show the dirt. Dan suggested Linen, but it’s a little dark. She likes Royal Blue, but it’s a tweed that is basically Pacific Blue with a black thread running through it. Okay, what’s wrong with Pacific Blue. It works for so many other boats. Yeah, that’s exactly the problem. It’s the color you see on almost every boat out there. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great color. But it’s the color everybody else uses. I want to be able to look around a crowded anchorage and spot Condor without trying.

So Anna offers her two cents. Logo Red. Yeah, I’d be able to spot Condor in a crowded anchorage – from the moon. No way! That’s not the way I want Condor to stand out. Allie, jokingly I hope, suggested Orange. Orange is just slightly more flamboyant than Anna’s Logo Red.

Capri is not bad, but I’m afraid it will look like faded blue jeans. Not that it’s bad, but I don’t want Condor to be known as the boat with the faded cover. The problem is that not all blues go together, or so I’ve been told. If you ask me, blue is blue. But, you know, when I hold those 14 different blues next to Condor’s boot stripe, none of them match.

And so, I sit here writing this blog entry because I can’t decide on a color to make the sail cover. And it seems that until I decide, I’m not going to be able to accomplish anything else. But, on the bright side, I maybe able to catch you up on all the projects we have accomplished.

Condor’s Story

It was fall of 2002. Condor was being hauled out just like every fall since 1985. She expected to sit out the winter in the comfort of the marina yard alongside the other boats. Little did she know that things were changing. Spring came, but her owner didn’t. He had come every spring and had sanded her bottom and put on fresh paint. The other boats’ owners came and prepared them for the season and one by one they went back in the water. But Condor sat patiently waiting for her owner to come and get her ready.

The summer came. She could feel the warm winds and hear the sounds of other owners and friends enjoying their boats on the water. She knew he would be there soon. As she waited, she thought back to the fun she had in the past 17 years. Daysailing with her owner and his co-workers, non-spinnaker club racing on Wednesday nights, and even some trips to participate in Sabre events. Those were good times when she was able to reunite with sisters and cousins. Even as she relived those memories in her mind, she realized that more of her memories were of years ago and fewer were recent.

It was late fall when he finally showed up at the yard. He checked her over, made sure that she was still winterized and left. She had spent the whole season setting on her stands and hadn’t been able to enjoy the rush of water against her hull or the warm breezes in her sails. But she still had her memories to get her through the cold winter. And she knew next year would be better. Her owner had recently retired so they would have lots more time to spend sailing.

Spring came again and she eagerly waited for her owner to come. Once again the other boats’ owners came and prepared their boats. And again, one by one they went in. At least she had a few other boats to keep her company. The old wooden ketch right in front of her had been out for many years. Her owner was completely rebuilding her. While the tent around kept her warm in the winter it also prevented her from enjoying the sun and the breezes. Condor pitied her. But at least the ketch’s owner came and spent time with her. Condor was feeling lonely.

Condor spent another whole season sitting in the yard only able to hear the sounds of summer around her. With her stern to the water and the tented wooden boat in front of her, she couldn’t even enjoy watching the other boats. Two years ago, when her owner first retired, there were a few weeks when she would bob in her slip as she watched the other boats enjoying time with their owners. A few times he came down and spent the evening just sitting there. He had commented that finding crew was getting harder since he didn’t have co-workers any more.

The seasons came and went. The sun was burning her sail cover and fading her teak. She could feel herself getting old. The sun had dried and cracked her mast boot and she could feel the rain water trickle down her mast to her bilge. At least her owner had left her battery charger plugged in so she was able to run her pump and pump the water out.

She didn’t like it, but still hoped for the best when he put a ‘for sale’ sign on her stern rail. She had seen other boats get new owners and it seemed to breathe fresh wind into them. And, she was pretty proud of the price he had listed. A few people came by and poked and prodded her. Which one would be her new owner?

One late fall storm shredded her sun damaged sail cover. The fact that he had left her sail on had always given her hope of getting back in the water. Now she was beginning to think there wasn’t hope. The shredded sail cover made her feel neglected. Then he lowered her price. She was a mark down. She had seen this before. There was a boat over at the edge of the yard that had been there as long as she could remember. That boat had been a mark down. And now it just sat there and no one ever came or looked at her. Condor was beginning to feel guilty and sorry for some of the thoughts she had about that boat.

Even though her charger was plugged in, she could feel that her batteries just didn’t have the energy they once had. The sun and neglect were making her feel old. The fitting on her deck scupper broke and the rain water ran down into her quarter berth. At least her pump could still get it out.

The sun had once been her friend, but she was beginning to resent it. Its warm rays were now burning every part of her. She used to love the cool rain pouring down on her. It cooled her deck and washed away the dirt and salt. Now she hated the rain. It found more ways to get into her bilge. It was getting harder and harder to pump it out. She could feel the rot in her quarter berth shelf from the rain water sitting on it.

How could this have happened? Her owner had ordered her after seeing one of her sisters at the boat show. He had traveled to Maine to see her being built. He had owned a smaller cousin, a Sabre 30, and wanted to bigger boat. He had taken good care of the other boat and had even found a new owner to take care of her. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be! How could he do this to her?

It was no longer a tickling trickle of rain coming in. It ran in. With each rain the batteries got weaker and finally died. She could no longer pump the water out. Now it filled and overflowed her bilge. She could feel the rot growing in her plywood subfloor. It was leaving a mark on her wood work. Who would want her now?

Another lower price and a few more people to look at her. She almost didn’t want them to come. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. One person seemed interested in her. Maybe there was hope after all. A surveyor came out to inspect her. These people must be serious! These would be the ones to take care of her and put her back into shape.

As the surveyor poked and tapped and tested, she knew he could see past her leaky ports and rotten floor. He got her pumped out and even started her engine. It felt good to have her engine run even though she knew the algae in her fuel wasn’t good for her. She coughed and sputtered until the algae clogged her fuel filter. Then her engine wheezed and died.

She couldn’t believe the report! Corrosion in her keel, engine died and would need to be replaced, rotten subfloor, leaking ports, broken deck drains. Anyone would back away from her with that report. And that is just what they did. Her potential new owner ran away from her and never looked back. She was alone again.

It had been seven years since she had felt the water on her keel and she knew now that she would never feel it again. Another lower price. Another gawker to point out all her faults. She wished they would just leave her alone. The words from the survey report were still burning – engine needs to be rebuilt/replaced, leaks on all port windows, chainplates need to be rebedded, flooring beneath the mast step is "spongy" with rot, mast/deck joint needs to be resealed to stop rainwater from entering the boat, keel needs repair, all running rigging needs replacing, hull needs faring, sanding, and repainting.

Condor was done. It was just as well that she couldn’t see the water. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. It would be better if she were in the corner of the yard where no one could see her and she wouldn’t have to see anything. Now she longed to be under the old wooden ketch’s tent. She wanted to die in peace. Even her for sale sign had gotten destroyed by the sun and had fallen into her cockpit leaving just the cable ties on her stern rail.

More people. Why can’t they just leave her alone? There was no hope left. Only a fool would want her now, especially after the surveyor had written those words. She didn’t want people looking at her keel. She didn’t want them in her cockpit. She didn’t want them poking at her floor or looking at her engine. Just leave!

Why are they back? Haven’t they seen enough? Do they need to ridicule her more? Couldn’t they see she didn’t want them? What do they mean they are her new owners? Can’t they see that she doesn’t want an owner? And the offer they had made was an insult, though inwardly she knew it was really more than she was worth at this point.

They took off what was left of her old sun damaged mainsail. They changed her fuel filters and cleaned her fuel. The pried up her floor and replaced her rotten subfloor. She had to admit that it felt kind of good to be getting some attention after all these years, but didn’t they know they were wasting their time? This time when they started her engine, it felt good; it purred the way it used to. It also felt good to have the corrosion ground out of her keel.

What probably felt the best was having her leaks stopped and her deck drains repaired. No more water running in when it rained. Now the rain could just wash away the dirt and not run into her bilge.

By the time they had buffed and waxed her topsides and sanded and oiled her teak she was beginning to feel like there may be hope. Her floor had been repaired and all her teak inside had been cleaned oiled. Her bronze seacocks had been rebuilt. Her cushions had been cleaned. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed the warmth of human touch. And then they spent the night with her. Did they really care about her? She hoped they would stay forever.

The old chunky anti-freeze had been flushed out of her Westerbeke and many of her hoses had been replaced. Now it felt really good when they ran her engine. They had replaced her cutlass bearing and had her dripless stuffing box rebuilt. They had even given her a new stainless prop shaft. She could barely wait to spin her prop in the water.

Then the day finally came. The travel lift came over and straddled her. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to be lifted off her stands. The gentle swaying in the slings heightened the anticipation of getting back in the water. The driver slowly positioned her over the water and began to lower her. What was that feeling on the tip of her keel? Water! It had been almost eight years! And now, fully lowered and floating on her own. She had almost forgotten how to float.

Her Westerbeke started and her prop spun. She was moving on her own! Freedom! Free from the stands that had held her for so long. She motored over to a dock and was tied up. It had been so long since she had seen or felt the water. This might be even better than the her original launching. Her water tanks were filled. It felt great to have water in her where it belonged rather than running though her and into her bilge.

What was this? A brand new mainsail made especially for her! So white and crisp! It even had her number and the Sabre 36 logo. Once again they started her engine. She never had any doubts about it running. Okay, she had to admit that she had had her doubts and she had once given up. But those doubts and feelings were washing away as they motored away from the dock. And now they were heading away from Solomons, the place she had called home all her life. They had even removed that from her transom and replaced it with “Baltimore, MD”.

After they motored through the channel they raised her sail. The wind filled it and it pulled her gently forward. She was sailing! Just her and the wind and her new owners. Was this real? It felt so good it had to be a dream! But it wasn’t. She was sailing to Baltimore. She was soaring! Living up to the name her original owner had given her – Condor.

We're Back!

Blogger, forgive me for I have sinned. It has been 45 days since my last blog post.

I suppose some of you may have wondered what has been happening with Condor. “Did they get overwhelmed and give up?” “Did they finish it and go sailing without telling us?” Well, the truth is that we’ve been busy. I have been busy working at the Downtown Sailing Center. Suzanne has been busy picking up the slack, working on Condor. Yes, I was able to make a few trips down to work on things, but Suzanne has been faithfully making a trip of two a week to try to chop away at our to-do list.

And, yes, we kind of did get her done and sail her away without telling you. So, I’m filling you in now. We finished the top priority tasks last Friday and Saturday. We spent our first night aboard last Friday night. Granted, she was still sitting on the hard, but we were aboard.

So, Matt had finished the sail. He was a little behind schedule because of the great blizzards of 2010. Suzanne, with a little help from the kids at various times, replaced the rotten subfloor. We got the seacocks rebuilt and finished the engine cooling system. We even rebuilt the head (and we used all the parts in the kit – no left over red parts). We’ll try to back up at some point and try to get some documentation of these project s for those interested.

The plan was to have Condor launched on Wednesday. We had noticed when we were at the boat yard on Friday/Saturday that there was a boat waiting to be hauled that did get hauled. Turns out the travel lift was broken. Lenny assured me that he would get it fixed. They put a new distributor on and it ran well, but wouldn’t hoist. What good is a travel lift that can’t pick up a boat? Yeah, I know a couple of people who wouldn’t care. They think it would be neat to have one to drive to work.

Lenny reassured me again that they would find and fix the problem. Tweaking and jury rigging the hydraulic system should allow it to hoist Condor. Sounds kinda iffy to me. But, I suppose if it can pick he up, what’s the worst that could happen? Don’t answer that!

Lenny avoided my pestering calls because he wasn’t sure of the answer he could give me. Finally, 6p.m. on Thursday evening he calls to tell me that it will work. He had hoisted another boat and would be able to hoist Condor Friday morning. Now we just had to get there. Sam had class Thursday night, but agreed to drive us down after class and drop us off so we wouldn’t have to make another trip to get the car back.

We got to the boat late Thursday night, and before settling in for our second night aboard, I decided to torque the keelboats. You may have read about the condition of the keel. Many people believed that the keel bolts had rusted away and that was the reason for the corroded spots in the lead. Much to my relief, I was only able to put about a quarter turn on the bolts. They were good and solid.

Jimmy showed up about 9:45 Friday morning – I rebuilt a winch while I was waiting. He maneuvered the hoist around and picked Condor up. The keel stayed on! A relief, but after re-torquing the keelbolts, I wasn’t really too concerned.

He lowered her into the water and we quickly jumped onboard and checked every through hull, the stuffing box and the bilge to make sure nothing was leaking. No leaks! We motored her over to the fuel dock where we could bend on the main, fill the tanks and make a few last inspections then we headed to Baltimore. But that’s another story.

And I promise I won’t make you wait 45 days to hear it.

Bigger is better, right?

Bigger is always better. At least that’s what we’ve been taught to believe. Wasn’t it McDonalds that was telling us to “super-size it”? I hate to generalize, but women want bigger diamonds. Guys want bigger engines in their bigger trucks. We all want bigger houses – 3500 square feet isn’t enough. We need bigger TVs to watch while we sit on our bigger couches (to accommodate our bigger bodies).

But what does this have to do with sailing. Perhaps if we were out sailing more, (or just working on our boats) we wouldn’t need bigger TVs and bigger couches (and we probably wouldn’t have bigger bodies!).

So, how big does my boat need to be? Very good question! Some people will suggest that you get the biggest boat you can handle. I think they mean “that you can ‘really’ handle”, not what you ‘think’ you can handle. I know a lot of people that really can’t handle “B’Gosh”, Isaac’s eight foot wooden pram. Sure, they think they can handle a boat, but if you watch, they’re the ones who rub the boat against the dock to slow down when docking. They’re the ones who don’t realize that easing the main will allow you to turn downwind with less rudder.

So how big does my boat need to be? I suppose that really depends of what you want to do. Want to impress your friends? Get a boat that’s a few feet bigger than you can afford. At least you’ll have bragging rights and you can tell everyone that you own a bigger boat. Oh, wait, the boat will own you, and so will the bank.

Personally, I think my Laser is about the right size. Easy for me to launch, sail and put away. And the slip fees are great – or, the lack of slip fees. But, there’s no room for the microwave or the shower. And what do we do when we want to sail together as a family? I suppose we could buy a few more Lasers so we would all have our own, but I don’t think that would cut it. In fact, I know it won’t. When we did own six Lasers, more than enough for everyone to get out at once, we never had more than two in the water at a time.

What I learned about boat size, I learned from Mike. There have been a couple of ‘Mikes’ in my sailing life. The most recent was filming the arrival of the Spanish Open 60’s as they were offloaded from the container ship here in Baltimore today. But, he has nothing to do with boat size.

Another ‘Mike’ got me into me sailing instructor career and my involvement with US SAILING. He also got me into dinghy racing. And I skippered his 34’ boat for a couple of season of racing. While I consider him my mentor in many things, boat size is not one.

Then there’s the ‘Mike’ that got me into racing originally. Frustrated with working on boats and not having a boat ready to sail, I answered an ad for race crew. It turned out to be a blast. I got to love the boat I was crewing on so much that I found one and boat it. That was my Express 30, Pony Express. But it wasn’t the racing that taught me the lesson on boat size. Mike’s words of wisdom were “get a boat as big as you can handle”. Yeah, I’ve heard it before. But he went on. Get a boat as big as you can really handle. That meant a bunch of different things.

Get a boat that ‘you’ can handle. If you always depend on someone to help you sail the boat, you’re going to be limited in when and where you can sail. You’ve got to be able to handle it by yourself. When we bought Pony, Sam was still rather terrified of the whole sailing and heeling things. Anna loved it, but was too young to do anything. When Isaac came along, he required attention which kept either Suzanne or I taking care of him and the other one sailing. So, when a couple sails with little kids, one of them is going to be single-handing the boat while the other is playing parent.

Mike’s “handle” also meant maintenance. Get a boat that you can take care of. Granted, there are a lot of people that have big boats with big systems that they pay other people to take care of. All they know about their engine is that you turn the key and push the button to start it. What are they going to do when something goes wrong away from the dock (assuming they ever make it away from the dock)? I suppose that’s why SeaTow is in business.

Mike also meant that you should be able to do the work on the boat yourself. He felt that 30’ was all the boat he wanted to sand when it was time to sand the bottom. 30’ feet of bottom is a fair amount of sanding. 30’ of topsides (really 60’ because you have to do both sides) is a lot to buff and polish.

I don’t know this, but he might have meant you should get a boat you can handle financially. Being cheap, I hate giving my money away to people who don’t need it. I can’t see paying interest to the bank so I can own a boat. I guess technically, if they’re financing it, they own it. That makes it even worse! They want me to pay them and do the work and spend the money to maintain it? Not this sucker. If I can’t afford to pay for it up front, it’s not going to be mine. We own Condor, not the bank.

So, is Condor big enough? Is she too big? The bottom surface on a 36’ boat that draws 6’4 is exponentially more than a 30’ boat that draws 5’6. That’s a whole lot more sanding! In fact, Suzanne has nicknamed Condor ‘the big blue whale’. When you’re standing under Condor sanding off the many old layers of blue bottom paint, you feel like you’re trying to roll a big blue whale.

Yes, 36’ feet of boat is a fair amount to handle whether you’re speaking of single-handed sailing, or sanding, painting, and buffing. But Condor is a comfortable size for us, we think. And in this case, bigger would probably not be better.

Making a big To-Do.

We’re making a big to-do, but I can’t say it is a big to-do about nothing. Sure that has happened before. Everyone has witnessed an instance where someone has made a big commotion about something which turned out to be pretty minor.

But, this is big to-do about something. And that something is Condor. As mentioned before, we have a self-imposed deadline of March 31 to get Condor to the point where she can be launched and sailed from Solomon’s to Baltimore. The deadline is not 100% self imposed. The PO (previous owner) has paid winter storage through March 31. Being cheap, we decided that it was worth the extra push to get Condor in the water before having to pay more storage. And besides, what good is a sailboat sitting in a yard. We want to get her out and sail!

So, we made a big to-do. And a big to-do it is. Close to 40 things. If you haven’t realized, we’re talking about a to-do list. Close to forty items on Condor’s to-do list. Rather, our to-do list for Condor. In a sense, making this big to-do should really help, though at times looking through it can be overwhelming. Suzanne thinks it should help keep me focused. ADD, you know. All too often, she has to call me back to task because I have found some other issue that requires my attention. For instance, while rebedding the deck plate for the water fill, we had to move the whisker pole. She commented that the spring loaded jaw for the pole wasn’t moving freely. Steve to the rescue! I ran and got some lube and spent fifteen minutes getting it moving while Suzanne stood, glaring at me, holding the deck fitting and waiting for me to apply the caulk. She had to remind me that rebedding the deck plate was on the list and freeing the jaw of the whisker pole could be added to the list – after we finish the deck plate.

It should be pointed out, for those of you with little firsthand experience, that ADD is not the inability to pay attention. Rather it is the ability to pay attention to many things. All too often, those of us who benefit from the effects of ADD are called abruptly back to the task that someone else thinks is more important than the many things we’re focusing on. And so, Suzanne calls me back to her deck plate and we complete that task. By the way, the whisker pole jaw works perfectly now.

Armed with our list, we head to Condor. Please remember that she is about a two hour drive away. With our massive list we jump to work. But where do we start? Time to back up again and prioritize our list. This shouldn’t be too hard. We read through each item and quickly decide if it has to be done before launching. For example, apply bottom paint. That generally works much better if the boat is on stands in the boatyard rather than in the water. So bottom painting is a ‘1’ job. Not all tasks are so easily decided. Rebuild and lubricate the winches. Okay, the winches, all eight of them, function, though not as smoothly as we would like. So rebuilding winches is a “2” job. But have you ever disassembled a winch while the boat is in the water? There is always that one spring that likes to jump overboard. Much safer (read ‘cheaper’) to do while the boat is on the hard. Maybe this should be classified as a “1-2”, meaning it would ideally be done before launch, but can wait.

I mentioned the benefits of ADD. In all truthfulness, I’m still looking for them. So if any of you can offer ideas as to the benefits of ADD, please do.

So, the list? In no particular order:
Fair keel
Sand bottom
Paint bottom
Replace cutlass bearing
Buff/wax topsides
Overhaul seacocks
Rebed chainplates
Replace halyards
Tighten toe-rail bolts
Clean/rebuild winches
Replace rotten cabin subfloor
Clean water tanks
Replace water system filter
Sand/bleach cabin sole
Replace engine zinc
Replace impellor
Replace engine coolant hoses
Finish cabin sole
Lubricate spinnaker and whisker pole ends
Replace all other running rigging
Install radio
Replace Loran
Replace gunwale scuppers
Rebuild manual bilge pump
Replace float switch for auto-bilge pump
Replace batteries
Rebuild quarter berth shelf
Refit doors and drawers
Reattach trim at companionway
Make mainsail cover
Purchase mainsail
Clean fuel tank
Replace prop zinc
Replace fire extinguishers
Replace flares
Replace PFD’s
Replace rotten wood in anchor locker
Clean/replace anchor rode
Replace scupper in anchor locker
Replace fixed ports
Install opening port in quarter berth
Clean and oil interior
Replace stern lettering and hailing port
Check all nav lights
Install bimini

And there you have it. At least until our next visit when I find more stuff that needs to be completed right away and Suzanne gently reminds me to add it to the list.

Document it!

“Make sure you document that.” We’ve all heard it before. Someone tells you something that doesn’t sound quite right. You’d better document that! You’re boss tells you to do something that might come back to bite you. You’d better document that! You’re promised a bonus. You’d better document that!

I have been asked why I’m writing this blog. Rather than put anyone on the spot, I’ll relate the conversation I had with myself about this question. “Why am I writing this blog?” “Well, I want to document it.” “What does documenting it have to do with writing this blog?” “Good question. It actually has nothing to do with it except that it provides some material.” “What do you mean? Doesn’t writing this blog document that the work you’re doing on the boat?” “Of course it does. But that has nothing to do with documenting it.”

Maybe you’ve never had a conversation with yourself like that. Perhaps this gives you a little insight into the kinds of things I have to deal with on a daily basis. The nice thing about a conversation like this is that you always win the debate. The not so nice thing is that you also always loose. I know what you’re thinking. “He’s rambling again. Why am I reading this?” Well, the answer is that this blog provides, hopefully, a little entertainment, and tucked deep within these ramblings are some truly educational and helpful morsels.

So, back to documenting. Yes, this blog does document the progress on Condor. And this particular entry is aimed at shedding some light on documenting. Not documenting the process, but rather the process of documenting.

Condor has always been a documented vessel. And that can be documented. Have a look for yourself. http://www.st.nmfs.noaa.gov/st1/CoastGuard/VesselByName.html This wonderful site allows one to search a database of United States Coast Guard (USCG) documented vessels by name. Go ahead, try it! What did you find? If you searched for Condor, it should have returned about 38 results. One of those results should have been our Condor.

So, when we bought Condor, she was documented, as was the sale of Condor. But that a different kind of documentation. The documentation of the sale includes a signed and notarized bill of sale as well as the documentation of the signing of the documentation. Condor had been documented to the original owner from the time he bought her from the Sabre dealer and when he sold her to us, he signed that documentation over to us. It’s really not as confusing as it sounds.

Instead of the boat being titled by the state, Condor was registered with the Coast Guard and issued a Certificate of Documentation. Why would one do this? There are a few advantages to documenting rather than titling with a state. If the vessel will be going into foreign ports, it makes clearing customs a little easier. Also, if the boat will be moving from state to state, it should make things a little easier. Keep in mind though, that if you set up in a particular state and plan to stay there a while, you’ll probably still have to register the boat with that state. Condor, for example, will be registered in Maryland even though she is documented.

So how does one transfer a documented vessel from one person to another? That’s a good question. I’m glad you asked. If you’re financing the purchase though a bank or lending institution, you can pay them an exorbitant fee to do this for you. When we purchased Pony Express so many years ago, the bank wanted $500 to do this. As I mentioned in a previous rambling, I mean post, I am cheap. I’m not going pay someone $500 to do something that I can do for a whole lot less.

Another option is to pay an independent service to do it for you. A quick internet search found a couple options. One service will give me the forms I need for a mere $29.95. Where do they get the forms? The USCG, of course! And how much does the USCG charge for those forms? They’re free! That makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? Pay someone $30 to send me a form that I can download at no cost? The sad thing is that there are probably people doing this.

This same firm will complete the paperwork for me for $150. All I have to do is enter all my information into their form. They will then complete the necessary USCG forms and send them to . . . me? Why wouldn’t they file them for me? Oh, they will, but not for $150. For $150, they just send them back to me and I have to send them to the USCG with my check. Wait! More money? What did I pay for? I gave them the info and all they did was type it into a form they downloaded for free? I could have done that at no cost!

Okay, so what’s going on? Some people want to make this vessel transfer into a big scary process that can’t be completed by the average person. News flash! The USCG has made it even easier. Okay, here it is. To transfer the ownership of a documented vessel, have the previous owner sign the back of the certificate of documentation over to you. Have it notarized. Get a notarized bill of sale. Complete form CG-1258 (exchange or replacement of certificate of documentation form – and instructions are on-line). Send in $84 for the exchange fee and $8 for the transfer fee and in a couple of weeks, the Coast Guard will send you your new certificate of documentation. That’s a total of $92 for all the math challenged readers. If you really want to spend an extra $150, feel free to mail it to me. I accept cash or check.

So, this is what we did for Condor. We didn’t pay someone $29.95 to download the form for us. We didn’t pay them $150 to fill in our information. We didn’t pay a bank over $500 to do it for us. Instead, we just used our common sense and did it ourselves. Remember, as you read elsewhere in this blog, cheap is beautiful.

And thus, Condor is documented. Documented that she belongs to us. And this blog has documented that she has been documented.