The Early Days

I've had requests to elaborate on some of our adventures. Here's snippits from various posts:

~~~I'm no stranger to Oregon. Our honeymoon (1970) was a tour of 49 states in a Ford Bronco, to decide where we wanted to settle. We chose Grants Pass Oregon out of all 49 states (didn't get to Alaska until '05), eventually moving to Ashland. Those were the days and today we still consider the Rogue Valley our real home.

Ironic, it was boating that made us leave. I'm a born traveler...just love being on the move. From Oregon, we explored the West Coast by car and motorcycles. My wife and I each had 175 Hondas...hers was a CL175 (road bike) and mine was an SL175 (dirt bike). On a wild hair one day, I said to my new wife, "Let's ride these bikes to the East Coast" figuring I'd get a firm "Hell No!" and get it out of my system.

She said, "I can be ready in 2 weeks." And so off we went, over 7,000 miles, each on our own tiny bike. Had a blast.

About a year later, there was a huge gas scare...remember the rationing? I put extra tanks on the Bronco

and we figured we'd make one last cross country trip before the gas ran out. On that trip we met a freind in Charleston SC who was in the process of buying a sailboat. We returned home determined to travel by sail after the gas ran out.

Two small sailboats later, we'd run out of inland lakes and were ready for bigger waters. The Pacific however, scared the daylights out of me with it's bars and long distances between harbors. We answered an ad in Sail Magazine for crew on a sailboat out of Syracuse NY, heading for the Caribbean.

We learned through a month or two of correspondence with the owner that there were 12 couples vying for the position, and with my limited sea experience I knew we'd have to do something drastic go get aboard. We sold all our stuff, listed our $6,500 house

with a rental agency and drove the Bronco to Syracuse uninvited. I knocked on the fellow's front door, introduced my self and my wife and told him we were here to accept the position. He said he hadn't offered me the position and there were 12 other couples in the running. I spun around with an outstretched arm, encompassing the front yard and smugly inquired, "We'll where the hell are they?"~~~~


~~~ So we moved in with the owners after dropping our vehicle(s) off at a Chicago relatives. It was winter, the boat was on the hard, covered, so my duties included odd jobs around the house, then eventually grass cutting/yard work (a couple acres worth) and misc mechanical repairs on vehicles etc until the boat was uncovered.

It was a nice boat, but cheaply built - 38' Rhodes designed ketch. The owners bought it new, and had sailed it only a partial season...it needed to be commissioned for the trip to the Caribbean.

The wife had winterized the boat/motor, (three cheers for her), but my initial examination of the mechanics revealed she had neglected to drain the (fresh) cooling water from the transmission and the severe weather had at one point frozen the cooling passages, cracking the case. I pulled the transmission while the boat was on the hard and sent it out for repair. She also had ordered spares for the motor which I was given for safe storage. Gaskets, injectors, starter, generator, filters etc. When I was giving these parts the once over, I discovered that the starter was not the correct part. If I'd waited until we needed it, we'd have been out of luck. It was this incident that encouraged me to mount all the 'spare' parts and put the originals in the spare part cabinet. This way I knew they fit, I knew both parts worked and that we had the tools and experience to make the swap.

We only had the boat out 2 or 3 times before we actually set out for the Caribbean, there was too much to do to engage in frivolous sailing, so I was resigned to get my sailing experience when we finally headed south.

We motored across Lake Ontario, then we motored though 80 locks on the New York State Barge Canal, then we motored offshore from New York to the Chesapeake, then we motored down the ICW to Beaufort NC where we would wait for weather to head offshore. Well now, I thought, we'd finally get to put up some sails and see how this baby sailed. Well we did go out the Beaufort Inlet one day in a nice 20 knot breeze and under full sail I felt the boat say to me, "Thank you" as we swooshed along with the rail tempting the surface of the ocean. Man it felt good...until the owner poked his head out of the companionway and shouted, "No heeling over 10°!"

Not long after, we jumped ship and began our search for livelyhood and lodging in Beaufort NC.~~~

~~~ A little about Beaufort...
Back then Beaufort was a fishing village, the barren waterfront inhabited by old wooden menhaden boats (converted minesweepers I was told), nothing like the touristy character of the town today. But as a true watertown, the folks there were friendly and caring and everybody knew everybody and they all had time for each other. Beaufort was also the jump off place for boats heading for the Caribbean. Every summer sailboats of all kinds would gather in the cut, waiting for the end of the hurricane season so they could head offshore. The sailors on those boats ranged from eccentric old men to wealthy folks with paid crew, all willing to swap sea stories with anyone who would listen.

Anyway, by the end of the day that we jumped ship, we both had jobs and a place to stay. Suzy became secretary to the town historian and I signed on as 'crew' for a doctor who had a CT41 (41' ketch sailboat) anchored in the harbor. Suzy and I moved aboard the CT, commuting the cut via oar.

The doctor soon had dolphins (group of pilings tied off at the top with heavy cable) put in behind a waterfront warehouse so we could move the boat off the mooring. This made life easier for Suzy and me because we could get ashore without the dinghy. We eventually converted the warehouse into living quarters below for the doctor and his family, with the doctors office out front, and on the second floor we put in apartments for students.

I'll never forget the day a strong Nor' Easter blew through. Winds were reported gusting to 90 mph and the CT was tied beam to. The combination of the wind and seas stretched the lines as the seas came in, grinding the gunnel into the pilings (on the way up) then she'd spring back away on the way down. Suzy and I were trying to shorten the windward lines to keep her from self destructing.

You can't keep your eyes open in 90 mph winds and the rain painfully stings your face. We wore swim masks and tied our foul weather hoods around everything but the masks. The motion of the boat was so violent that you could never let go...much of the time you needed 2 hands to maintain, and always one hand. So we each worked with one hand and the electric windlass at the bow to pull the boat into the seas between surges and secure the line. At the stern we had the aid of the sheet winches. It took us over an hour to secure the 24" or so of line needed at the bow and stern to keep the boat off the pilings.

The next episode, if anyone is interested, would be 'repairs'.~~~

~~~ The repairs started as I prepared to get Suzy off the boat. With the immediate concerns lessened, I was able to feel vibration on the aft deck. I went below to find the engine running. Sh*t, I must have bumped the key, I thought, making my way back out of the companionway into the driving rain.

The cockpit on the CT is only about a 3’ X 3’ well a foot or so deep on the aft deck. The key is on the front wall of that well. The little cockpit was about 2/3 full of seawater, and as I blindly reached down for the key, a wave came aboard and momentarily filled the cockpit to overflowing. Then I heard the starter spin and spin and spin. When enough water had scuppered out, I could finally see the key switch and there was no key in it. It became apparent that when the cockpit filled, seawater completed the starter circuit and the engine lit up…once started, the Perkins doesn’t need electrical power; who knows how long it had been running. The starter was a useless hunk of metal by the time I got it out the next day, but at least it hadn't caught fire.

The next morning, “Doc” took me up one side of Main Street and down the other, introducing me to everyone in every shop, exclaiming to those behind the counter, “If this fellow comes in for anything, give it to him and put it on my tab.” And throughout the following months I did and they did.

It was surprising how well the glass hull took the abuse, but the port quarter of the teak taffrail was destroyed and loosened mizzen stays led us realize that poorly sealed fasteners at the spreaders had allowed rot to take hold in that section of the mast. The mizzenmast repair was beyond my abilities, so we took the boat to Gillikin’s Boat Yard on Radio Island. I unrigged the mast before it was plucked from the boat. James Gillikin, the owner, befriended me from the start. In fact, after watching me work to get the mast unrigged he came up to me and inquired, “Is the Doc paying you enough? ‘Cause if he ain’t I’ll give you money and get it back on his bill.”

There was a shrimping trawler being built in the yard. I was amazed at how well these Harkers Island men worked…like it was instinct. This was borne out when I asked to see the plans for the mostly completed hull. James took me over to a wall in the shop and pointed to a 2 X 10 board, about 2 feet long. There was a penciled drawing of a fishing trawler on it. He nonchalantly explained, “That’s what she’ll look like when she’s done!”

With the mast on sawhorses, James took a few measurements, then selected a piece of raw wood from a bin. He then fired up the 283 Chevy mill which powered his planer via a wide loping leather belt and began working the wood into a board. He explained to me that he would scarf in a section to replace the rotted wood, but that he’d need to make it up first, as these masts were a hollow box and he didn’t want to add any undue weight ‘up top’. The masts are also tapered front to back (only) and this had to be taken into account as well.

During the days while James completed the repairs on the mast, I would come by the yard, often with my wife, to watch the progress of the trawler. We’d hear the craftsmen say things we at first didn’t understand, like, “12 feet, 3, two big ones and a little one.” Which we learned was a plank 12’ 3 9/16”. I watched while the plank was fastened to the ribs. The fellow held a silicon bronze screw up to the plank and ‘Wham!’ it was in the wood, perfectly level with the plank. He looked over at me and explained the secret was to not leave any “Mule Tracks” (a Mule Track is that crescent shape a hammer head leaves in the wood when the nail isn’t seated with a square hit). I was appalled that he’d used a hammer to drive in a screw. I didn’t want to seem like a know-it-all, so I pointed to the fastener and half jokingly inquired, “What do you suppose that slot in the screw head is for?” He fielded the question quite matter of factly. “That’s fer gettin’ ‘em out”

Pic of finished trawler.

I re-rigged the mizzenmast after the repair and took the boat back to Doc’s slip. James appeared shortly thereafter with parts for the taffrail. This repair involved removing a section of upper and lower rails including the posts. You can see the taffrail around the stern of this sistership.

After the new teak lower rail was placed, the posts were put in and the top rail was fitted. These new pieces were all scarfed in with perfection, made permanent with Weldwood Plastic Resin Glue. Bolts through the posts hold on the top piece, and all that was left was to plug these holes in the rail where we’d fastened the nuts. I thought I was in for a lesson on the lathe, but James grabbed a scrap hunk of teak, reached in his pocket and pulled out his knife. He whittled the plugs and cut them off with a hacksaw. We mixed and applied a little WPRG, aligned the grain of the plugs to those in the rail and tapped the handmade plugs in. Perfect!…I’d put the varnish on the teak at my leisure.


Next – Saga of the tank.

Oh, I scared up a pic of Suzy aboard that first sailboat we crewed on, Erina.

And here, Suzy and I are aboard Doc's boat, Pudgie I

~~~

~~~ I couldn't remember what year we first arrived in Beaufort, so I dug up this old article.

~~~

Long about here, after attending every boat show we could, we ordered a Bristol 27 sailboat w/ 10hp diesel. About that time, we got word that the renters of our house wanted to buy it for $14,000...a little more than the cost of our new boat. We took delivery of the Bristol at the factory in RI.

~~~ We worked our way up to the Caribbean in our new boat...first winter we did the Keys, the second winter the Bahamas, the third winter the Caribbean. We cruised the Caribbean for about 2 months returning to Beaufort during the hurricane season to replenish the coffers.

The Caribbean islands are majestic, but in our opinion the cruising there falls far short of the Bahamas.
First it's a long way to Saint Thomas...12 - 14 days offshore (all out of sight of land).
Second - the Caribbean islands are high and they funnel the trade winds and seas thru the passes. Those winds and seas are relentless and sailing was always an effort; unlike the Bahamas where the tallest island is 300' above sea level, the seas are relatively tame and you can wait for the weather you like to go from island to island.
Third, the Caribbean harbors are few, deep and crowded; in the Bahamas you can find shallow anchorages that you can have all to yourself, or ones where other boaters are partying.
Last - generally we found the 'natives' friendlier in the Bahamas.

Fellow boaters Tommy, Joyce (more about them later) and me to the right in the pic, getting tidbits from a Priest about the island's history.

They bring in Christmas trees from the mainland (w/ Suzy).

Suzy (and Joyce) doing her "Sound of Music" on Bequia.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, we were still in Beaufort working on the Doc's fuel tank.~~~

~~~ After the storm, we had a faint odor of diesel coming from the bilge...thought it might be a result of sloshing from the exaggerated movement, so we pulled the floorboards to have a look. By now the bilge was dry and we could see the sides of the tank down to the bottom. The iron tank was 'textured' about 2" up on all sides, typical of electrolysis.

We drained and pulled the tank to find pinholes completely through the sides. We had a welder replate the entire bottom of the tank and the sides to cover the damage, then we glassed over the new bottom and up the sides before we put it back in. Before we put the floorboards over it, Doc got a can of black spray paint and sprayed "Aw SH*T" on the top of the tank. The floorboards didn't lay level over the new installation, so I relieved the framing on the underside of the boards by about 1/8" for a flush fit.

We then decided to check the cockpit scuppers to see if they should have drained faster. As I worked the handle on one of their thru hull valves, the handle came off with a hunk of the valve. The valve was brass and had succumbed to the same problems as the fuel tank. We replaced 6 thru hulls with the boat in the water by sending one person over the side with a large bucket with the rim coated with tallow. This bucket was placed on the outside of the hull over the thru hull. The person on the inside undid the thru hull and pushed it into the bucket on the outside then hold your hand over the hole until the new thru hull is pushed in; the bucket is replaced outside and the new thru hull is rigged. We did the first one with scuba, but found we could get the bucket on while holding our breath, then keep it in place with a hand or foot while hanging onto a line over the side.

As we finished up the last thru hull, I noticed that the floor above the fuel tank was not laying flat again. Knowing that I had previously fixed this problem, I realized that there must be more to it than originally thought. Deeper examination revealed that the glass floor under the tank was bowing upward. There seemed to be some kind of pressure under it.

For those of you not familiar with sailboats, this boat had a full keel, which meant that it went down over 5', pretty much the full length of the boat. This hollow cavern had been fiberglassed over to create a floor for the tank. In my sailboat, this area was open and one could look down and see the ballast at the bottom of the keel. I pulled the floor hatch in the midship stateroom to get a better look at the false floor over the keel. I could easily see floor had an upward bow.

I decided I should drill a hole in this false floor to relieve the pressure, but wasn't sure if water or what would come out, so I used a 1/8" drill and had a caulked sheet metal screw ready in case... Could rusting iron ballast cause pressure?

Where I drilled, the glass was only about 3/16" thick and as the bit broke through I heard a slight hisss. I couldn't get the bit out, so I kept my head back while giving the drill trigger a quick nudge, not wanting to get a facefull of whatever kind of grungy water might end up squirting out.

As I jerked the bit out of the hole -- Whooosh! A small explosion and now blue/yellow column of flame shooting out of the hole. I was back out on the dock in a matter of seconds but then realizing it wasn't going to blow, went back down and put the fire out. Not a lot of damage except for the black blistered coach roof which was about 7' above the hole. I put the screw in the hole and the floor over the fuel tank returned to normal. To this day I'm not sure what gas it was that burned, 'just glad it didn't escape on it's own while we were were underway.

There's a lot of truth to the saying, "Everything on your boat is broken, you just don't know it yet!"~~~

~~~

The saga of the fuel tank is not quite complete.

A while later, after we had taken the boat out (on those rare occasions) the Perkins began to act up and eventually quit running. I pumped out about 50 gallons of diesel to dry the tank, noticing a significant amount of water...more than could be accounted for by normal explanation. It turned out that the breather for the fuel tank was right below the gunnel, and when the boat had her rail under on the port side, that vent was underwater. Now figure in that Doc liked to motor sail and we have the Perkins running with the vent under water...Duh!

Speaking of the Doc, one day he cranked me to top of the mainmast to do an inspection. Once I got situated at the top, I discovered that the shaft had come part way out of the sheave of the main halyard -- the one that was holding me up there. When I had a good idea of what needed to be done for the fix, I told Doc to let me down easy.

Doc? Dahhhc? He was nowhere to be found. Turned out he got a call; they needed him in the emergency room and took off for the hospital. I kept my eye out for passerbys and a few folks did happen by, but none that I'd trust 'letting me down'. About 3 hours later my wife showed up for lunch and I finally got my feet back on the ground.

Another time, while I was in the process of re-caulking the teak deck (this involved using an exacto knife to cut out the old caulk, then masking each seam before squeezing the new caulk in) when the Doc came aboard and said, "Let's take her out."

"Aye Aye." I retorted. We untied her and headed toward the inlet. We'd been away from the dock for about 2 hours when I suggested we head for Cape Lookout. "Not today," the Doc repiled, "I've got to get back. I have an office full of patients."

Above-Doc and his wife Ida on one of our rare cruises, Suzy and I below.

Note the PITA teak deck...~~~

~~~

Parent's Nightmare

I met my wife at a Christmas party in 1969. I was home from college with nothing to do. My younger brother was going to a party and asked if I wanted to go. "Why not?" I told him.

Suzy was home from college and her younger brother asked her to go to the same party, and she did.

A different brother of Suzy's (there were 8 kinds in her family – she has 3 older brothers) was in my grammar school class and I knew of Suzy but she was 6 years younger so we had nothing to do with each other up to that point.

Suzy and I talked at the party, one thing led to another and in February we announced to our parents that we intended to get married soon (I was 25, she was 19).

We talked to the pastor and finalized plans to get married in our community church. My folks were delighted; Suzy’s parents were furious. Suzy’s folks wanted us to wait four years and even summoned her brothers to ‘discourage’ me from marrying Suzy. Her family conned Suzy into meeting a cousin from Mexico at the airport with intensions of getting Suzy on the return flight, but Suzy didn’t fall for it. The picture below at Niagra Falls, might be one of the reasons her folks weren't exactly ecstatic about me.

We eloped (ran away) a few days later, eluding the brothers who were on their way to ‘find’ me. We were married in Charleston SC on 3/5/70, less than 3 months after we met.

We both quit school and began exploring the US in search of a place to settle. We settled in Grants Pass Oregon as noted in an earlier post. Where did the finances come from to make this possible?

My Dad was a dedicated Stock Control Superintendent for Encyclopaedia Britannica. He believed in a strong work ethic, which involved not only dedication but also involvement. He ‘helped’ me find work after school and on weekends until I went to College where I also worked after classes and on weekends. My Dad taught me to spend less than I made. During my first college summer, my Dad got me a job at a company that printed encyclopedias. I enjoyed the entry-level work and was asked to stay on for an apprenticeship in the Fall. Seeing as how my first semester GPA was 1.0 and I needed a 2.0 to stay in school, and ending up with a 1.9 overall after that second semester, I chose the apprenticeship even though I had petitioned to get back in school and was accepted. With my Dad’s teachings, being single and having a good job, I was able to put quite a bit of money away, but I guess what was more important was that I realized that there was always going to be a job available for a dedicated, involved worker and that gave me the confidence to know that if/when the money ran out, I’d be able to get more.

Suzy worked at a regular job in Oregon, managing a Dairy Queen. She ran the business when the owners took off. When the appreciative owners returned, they would give us their pick-up camper and send us off for a spell.

After settling in Oregon I worked for a printer for a spell, but became fascinated by the dune buggies we saw on the coast when we went there in our Ford Bronco.

I wanted to build one but knew little about how to go about it.

So, I got up every morning at 6am and went to a local one man VW repair shop. I’d stand around, asking an occasional question, getting to know the owner and becoming familiar with the techniques and operations used on VW motors. After a couple days, “Bob” would ask me to bring him a tool, or hold something while he tightened it. Before long I was a friend and employee.

When I was confident with my VW skills, I did the same thing to a local welder and got the same results. In my spare time, I took a correspondence course, learning about electrical stuff. I built myself a fine dune buggy!

I guess I got off the point, but thought it might be helpful to fill y’all in on some background before we set off for the Caribbean.~~~

Much of the above was the result of a post which advised that we were taking our cuddy on a cross country trip, and asked for recommendations on things to see/do.

~~~My sister and her husband are treating us to the first week in September on a Grand Banks out of ABC Yacht Charters in Anacortes. Last year we had a Carver out of Fort Myers for a week on the West Coast of Florida.

Their preference is to cruise leisurely during the day (read late start) and stop early at a marina with a high class restaurant nearby. This was easily done on the Florida Gulf ICW, but I'm not sure there are as many options in the NW.

This will be the second planned stop on our cross country trek this summer (first stop = Lake Powell), so we'll be able to poke around the area on our own terms with our own boat (1850 W/A) after the charter is over.

I'm looking for any advice and/or don't miss places for either the charter or during our own time in the area.

After the charter, we'll be visiting many harbors along the West Coast from Anacortes to San Diego and thanks to many of you already have ramps targeted. Below is our basic route, but after Anacortes we intended to get up in the morning and then decide what to do or where to go that day.

We don't fish and don't have any water toys, we just like to travel and camp in the van and boat.

You may know, that my wife doesn't do well in the heat, so I've installed a window unit in the van to be powered by a Honda EU2000i for those times on the road and overnight when things get hot. The 'new' junkyard door is red and may stay that way. The Honda can also power an electric heater if it's required.

This pic at Lake McConaughy on our Alaska adventure in '05.

We may or may not do the Brownsville leg depending on how Suzy is handling the trip; I'd like to see it because it is the end of the GICW and I'd just like to be there once.

We'll be leaving home mid August and be on the road for as long as it takes.
Any suggestions for things to see/do along any of the route would be appreciated.~~~

~~~ Had her out for a test run today. All systems go!

We'll be heading out tomorrow morning for points North, then West...'be back sometime late Sept.

~~~

The cross country trip was a blast. We visited every harbor on the West Coast, splashing at many including an overnight at Catalina. Even cruised under the London Bridge at Havasu.

Long post...enough!