Chuting The Moon

We got our spinnaker up last night! Since we brought Moon home in May, we’ve been trying out different sails—either bequeathed to us or retrieved from storage. Yet this was only the third time we’d had a spinnaker out of its bag on Moon, the second time it was flying and the first time it went smoothly.

Flying the “chute”

… or “kite” requires not only just-right conditions—a light breeze from the right direction, fairly calm seas—but also coordination between everyone on the boat and a steady focus on the sail.  Normally the headsail is controlled by two lines, but the spinnaker has five controls that must be coordinated:  the guy, the sheet, the downhaul, the topping lift, and the car on the mast that determines the height of the pole.  For all the work, it’s worth it especially while racing because the spinnaker makes the boat go fast.

Despite best intentions of testing our new spinnaker on vacation, it never got out of the bag.  Once home and these weekday races started, Peter reclaimed his old spinnaker from storage.  I just learned the old one is affectionately referred to as Mrs.Thatcher and the new one had no name until the first time we got it out of the bag.

The first time

The night we sailed downriver with Liz, Ralph and Andy, Andy proposed getting Mrs. Thatcher out of the bag and after a short group discussion we all decided that the new spinnaker needed a name but couldn’t be named until we could see it flying. Andy ran lines while Peter drove and I observed/assisted—something that only happens when we have more hands on deck. The conditions that evening never warranted a spinnaker though and despite our readiness and even hoisting briefly enough to see it, the thing never filled with air and we dropped it quickly. But we saw enough of the blue and red on white background to conjure up the Czech flag and suggestions of Václav Havel were discussed.

The second time

Havel went up was last week, racing against Mike and R on the Santana. Peter and I alone, we worked our stations and clumsily raised the spinnaker for the first time together. From R’s account, there was a good deal of yelling heard across the river. We needed to clear the air.

Third time’s a charm

Last night, knowing we were facing Mike in the latest re-match, and knowing the wind would go light, Peter pre-ran the lines for the spinnaker thinking we would be out alone. At the last minute Al joined us for the race. With the three of us, we hoisted Mrs. Thatcher with ease. Her broad shoulders and light weight (half ounce) were perfect for the downwind, broad reach conditions. Peter and Al taught me how to pull the guy to adjust the pole and the big red, white and blue spinnaker puffed out over our starboard bow.  The spinnaker was flying with ease!
Sailing Glossary

A sailboat in the moonlight & you

Billie Holiday's song “A Sailboat in the Moonlight and You!" Lyrics

Click on the arrow to play the song.

A Chance to Drift

Leaving our anchorage across from the Bohemia River Sunday morning, we had little wind and no idea of our plans.  After a early morning swim around the boat, we had our coffee and started down the upper bay.  The wind was non-existent and our sails hung limply.  The current was the only reason we were moving.  As the morning drifted by, we moved slowly down the bay.  A lazy lunch of barbecued pork chops (just thawed) and Sauvignon Blanc left us calm and carefree.  It was a chance to drift.

It was mid-afternoon by the time we realized the remaining ice would be gone long before evening cocktails.  We planned a quick dip into Tolchester Marina for ice to maintain our other carefully frozen provisions, but found a jumping Tiki bar and the fuel dock packed with boats.  As we got back out into the bay, we discussed our new number one boat project:  refrigeration!

Thoughts of a stopover in Rock Hall or Annapolis ran through my head but the wind picked up that afternoon as we approached the Bay Bridge and we knew we had plenty of good sailing hours left in the day. We sailed past the mouth of the Severn with the sun setting behind the capital building in Annapolis and decided to keep sailing.

A Soft Breeze on a June Night

The nearly full moon was rising just as the sun was getting low and we prepared for a night sail.  With the decreased visibility of night, the navigator’s role becomes vital.  Checking charts for navigational aids and then scanning the horizon for the blinking red and green lights of the markers helps the skipper to avoid dangers, in this case:  Bloody Point shoals.  One thing that makes all this much easier is the GPS-connected laptop with the chart plotter showing the boat’s position.  With my help, Peter sailed us safely past the shoals and we were tucked into Tilghman Creek by 1:30 that morning.

The night will stand out in memory.  These are the moments why we sail, why we tolerate small spaces, the lack of modern comforts, and windless drifting.  This night, the breeze was perfect: a warm, steady breeze out of the south east at 12-14 knots.  Waves just big enough to give the boat some motion and occasionally cause some spray to splash up on the deck.  The moon, big and bright reflected on the water. As we sailed down the bay, I recalled Billie Holiday's lines, "Some things dear that I long for are few, Just give me a sailboat in the moonlight and you."

Chesapeake Bay Getaway

Chesapeake Bay Getaway

We wanted a relaxed vacation this summer. After the hard work of finding our new boat, getting her ready to put in the water, and bringing her down from New York, we just wanted time on the boat without any  adventures. We wanted great day sails, quiet anchorages where we could swim and have happy hours followed by barbequed dinners, and easy port destinations when provisions ran low. These reasons among others are what draw recreational boaters to the Chesapeake Bay for vacation. We also wanted time to live on the boat to find out what we need to do to make her ready for a longer trip, perhaps across the Atlantic, down the Islands or just temporary living quarters to relocate to a warmer state.

 

Planning the Trip

One thing to explain about planning a sailing trip, while one may hope to stop somewhere, the trip is determined by the wind, the weather and optimizing the experience—which means even though we have a new diesel engine that can reliably get us from point A to B, it’s just not vacation while it’s running. One way we make the most of our days is to plan our trip for early July when the days are 15 hours long. Evening stopovers usually happen with just enough time to set the anchor before the sun goes down. Going into a town marina takes a little more time and planning.  Given all of the variables, we start our trip with some loose ideas and a wish list.  The wish list for this vacation:  getting as far south as possible, perhaps as far as Mike’s house in Virginia, a stop in Solomon’s Island, Annapolis to see family, St. Michaels, Kent Island (for the Red Eye bar), and anchoring in gunkholes for a front row piece of sky. With only 10 days, we weren’t going to be able to do it all, but we’d stay open to what developed along the way.

 

Getting there…

From Philadelphia, the Chesapeake Bay is about a day away.  Timing the current in the river and canal is the best way we know to ease progress to the bay.  Catching the ebb in the Delaware late in the evening, a stop-over at Newcastle Flats just south of the Delaware Memorial Bridge is a welcome half way point to time the current through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. An ebb current through the canal means three hours' motoring gets you to the other side. So it makes a good time to multi-task—wash dishes, stow everything away properly, read the cruising guide, look at the charts, discuss possible itineraries—all while getting to the bay.

Once through the canal at the top of the bay, the sunset saw us anchored directly across from the Bohemia River.  It was Saturday evening and our whole vacation was still ahead of us.  Our Chesapeake Bay getaway would unfold over the next week in ways that we didn’t yet foresee.  <check back!>

Sailing with Friends

Most times we sail, it’s against friends. Sunday found us sailing with friends.

Racing or Cruising

Normally sailing fits into these categories. Racing means people who are normally friendly get crazy-competitive and will do any tricky maneuver for bragging rights later. Cruising usually means we’re on the boat alone for a quiet evening or vacation sail and as it sounds, we’re taking it easy and going with the flow.


Races begin with a discussion about where the race will start and when “Go Time” is. We plot the race course, usually the Ben Franklin Bridge to the Walt Whitman or “bridge to bridge” as we say and argue PHRF ratings.  Cruising begins with a discussion about food, what type of cheese and which bottle of wine to bring and our course tends toward upriver for the view.

Cruising and Racing

Sunday evening found us combining the two in a way that rarely happens. We were sailing down the Delaware River with Liz, my best friend from our Barcelona days, in town for a conference and Ralph, my college pal, and Peter’s brother, Andy who normally races against us. While we were out for a social cruise, we were also racing Mike and Mike in the Santana bridge to bridge.  The first Mike is our good friend; the latter Mike was a first time sailor.

Sunday Cruise

We piled into the cockpit, gin & tonics in hand.  Peter stashed marinating ahi-tuna and pineapple to grill, insalata caprese fixings and wine and we were off!

Sunday Race

Mike called out, “What’s the plan?”
“Bridge to Bridge?”
“OK!” 
And with a voice-delivered “Brrraannnnpppph” the race began!
We started under the Ben Franklin and with Peter’s driving and Andy’s sail trim, Moon was leading!
Then we saw Mike putting up his spinnaker which means serious business.
Andy and Peter discussed strategies.
As we neared the Walt Whitman, the guys employed (exploited?) the racing rule that the windward boat has to give room.  They drove Mike up into the wind, his spinnaker collapsed, the boat slowed down and had to come way down wind to get clear of us. 
We passed under the Walt Whitman, heading back toward Philadelphia when we heard Mike do the unthinkable:  he started his engine!  He’s never quit a race since I’ve known him!  But he did have the excuse that the other Mike’s wife, pregnant with twins, about to deliver, had called.  I guess we’ll let him slide.

Sunday Cruise

Returning to cruising, Liz asked:  What brings about a sense of well-being in life?  What makes it meaningful?  What makes us happy?  (The essence of positive psychology, the conference that had brought Liz to town.)  We pondered, ate insalata caprese, sipped wine and talked.

The Results

While we all had different responses, all agreed that doing something we enjoy is important.  Spending time together on the water, something happens. A calm, a flow, an appreciation for the fleetingness of the moments that make up life.

sun set sail

sun set sail, a photo by nardell on Flickr.

Life through Ralph's eyes is always romantic and artistic. Here, Mike and Mike on the Santana with the spinnaker up sailing down the Delaware. Philadelphia, PA. All photography for Sunday's sail done by my amazing friend Ralph Nardell.

Sea Wyf

The inspiration for the Blog title comes from three sources:

The most immediate, The Sea Wife’s Handbook mentioned in the first post.

Sea Wyf was also coincidentally the name of a sailboat I crewed on a few times when I lived in Trinidad.  Sunday races off Chaguaramas always ended with rum and cokes or Caribs and Stags (Trini beer brands).

Finally, the etymology—that’s the English teacher in me!—the etymology of Wyf is very like our Modern English wife which stems from the Middle English spelling wyf which stems from the Old English word for woman, wyf. 

So this blog is written by a Sea Woman for other Sea Women…and anyone else who wants to read!

Getting Underway

When I first met Peter four summers ago, he called across the dock to me the day after we met and yelled, “Hey Jeannie, wanna go for a sail?”  We’ve been sailing together since then and have faced a few perilous moments together, but overall have enjoyed countless hours, days, weeks planning sailing trips, racing against our friends, rafting up for a post sail gathering, and anchored in a quiet place watching the sun set.

Peter taught me how to sail.  My Dad had sailed and taken us out sailing as teens and adults, but I never really got it then.  A few years ago, my Dad asked, “Has he made a sailor out of you yet?”  I have to say at this point, yes.


Last summer before my first ocean-going trip, our sailing friend Mike handed me a copy of The Sea Wife’s Handbook written in 1970 by Joyce Sleightholme.  At that point, I didn’t call myself a sailor, but I knew how to sail.  I’d been sailing with Peter for three years a few times a week in three seasons and occasionally on a winter day.  So I knew how to sail.  I knew how to take the tiller and drive during a race, how to hoist the sails, how to tack and jibe.  When I first cracked the old book open, I joked that the book was sexist and we all laughed reading such phrases as “the value of a woman who can manage the ship while the skipper gets some rest” (p. 92).  But as we got nearer to the mouth of the Delaware Bay and closer to the ocean, I realized I had no idea what to expect and that’s when I picked up the book in earnest to scan pages that talked about how to keep the night watch and what dangers to look out for on the open seas.

This blog is a place where practical advice for surviving life on a boat will be shared.  Everything from what to expect on a night watch, to the best foods to pack for a longer trip.  How to get in some yoga on the deck or down below and how to mix great cocktails to sip while watching the sun set.  What tools and products make life easier and what little tricks I’ve learned over the years.  And perhaps most interesting of all are the destinations—places we’ve been, places we’re going and places we love going back to.

So welcome aboard!  I look forward to sharing some tips and learning more tips from my blog followers!  Cast off!