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.
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