Yes, twelve fun filled active boating days (and two nights) for Lene and me. Six were sailing days which averaged only about 3.35 hours per day, plus a work day and two overnights. Before that, a fireworks party on the 37th floor of Devs apartment, which was great, including the fact that due to the distance from the event, the fireworks were like children should be: seen but not heard.
The first sail in this period was with two of the men from my Book group, Arthur and Gary, Arthurs wife, Marie Genevieve (the photographer) and Rafael, their son, on his dads lap. This pic, like many others are taken on the launch because your correspondent is too busy sailing the boat to perform his photographic responsibilities, and because the bimini and dodger do too good a job of providing shade, which makes it hard to get good pictures.
So we had the Chief Librarian of a prestigious New York university, an Emmy Award winning Film Editor and a practicing Psychiatrist. They were my friends who have became Lenes friends as well. Marie is the sailor in the bunch, with lots of experience with her father in Europe, and took the helm most of the time, but her husband and son took stints. Rafa steered like a Navy Helmsman, taking orders such as "a little to the right" -- because at eight, he can not yet see over the binnacle.
Next up were four of Lenes friends who have become mine as well. Sheila, MJ, Christine and Heather, all repeat sailors whose pictures are in other posts. We put up less sail than normal and went at a slow stately pace that the guests appreciated. We started with reefed main and small jib but finished without the jib.
Then came Ilenes first sail on Bennett and Harrietts new Beneteau. Lene, as I had been, was quite impressed with the boat. I was able to whip the ends of all of her lines that terminate in the cockpit. Another day, not underway, will be needed to get the other ends of these lines. She has a lot less lines than On Eagles Wings.
A work day to get the top of the Genoa working and mostly sanding the cafe doors for another coat of varnish, which could not be applied because the varnish I had had jelled to a solid. I also got two spare fuel filters - expensive little buggers, which, in their boxes are now aboard in zip lock bags to prevent rust.
For the final three days and two nights of sailing, in addition to the human guests, Whitty and Alpha Girl got reacclimated to the boat. That process was hardly an event; they walked about like they owned the place and tried to get into the cabinet where their food is stored. Cats are smart, especially when their dinner is concerned. Alfie is quite at home inside the aft end of the stack pack, atop the boom, when ILENE is on a mooring. The red and black lines are the first and second reefing lines, respectively.
It is warm and quiet in there. But we have to remember always to make sure we see the little devils before we hoist the sails to avoid crushing them. Our human guests during the first of these three days were Jill and Ken, her boyfriend. She is the kitties Vet and he is a family therapist and soon to be published memoirist. Neither of their expert services were required for this voyage, just the pleasure of their company.
The most remarkable thing about this daysail was the tidal effect of the so called "Super Moon" -- which was full and at the point in its orbit closest to the earth, increasing its magnetic effect on the water. Coming north back toward the mooring we passed what is usually safely east of Stepping Stones Light. The depth sounders beeping alerted us to the fact that the rocky seabed was only seven feet deep -- 16 inches below the bottom of our keel. I veered sharply to starboard to get further away -- toward deeper water. At high hide that day, the water would have been another eight feet deep. The same low tide problem almost prevented us from getting back to our mooring. Other members of our Club, who had intended to race that Friday evening, had to wait for the tide to rise a bit, being stuck in the mud. We made a groove in the soft mud bottom for about ten yards of our approach to the mooring; inertia carried us through. Our keel is 5.66 feet deep and the water was only 5.6 feet deep. After dinner at the Club, I took our guests to the subway so they could get home and listened to our Clubs mostly amateur but great sounding six piece rock band playing. But it was already 9:30 and my bed time. A calm cool night. Next day, after breakfast, our guest was Christine, a frequent sailor with us, here with Whitty.
We had the best sailing of the summer so far. We beat deeply into the south end of Little Neck Bay on eight tacks using Main and small jib, then ran out and through the passage behind Stepping Stones off Kings Point, which required three gybes, and finally turned south into Manhassett Bay to the M.B.Y.C. on a single starboard close reach. Lene had the helm most of the way and has mastered the art of taking advantage of puffs that round us up slightly. Our speed rarely dipped under six knots and on the broad reach we were making eight. MBYC charges $60 for a mooring and has a lovely big pool. We got there late in the afternoon and lounged on the pools deck. It was not at all crowded and we just read. Later the pool attendant told us that our guest mooring fee did not include use of the pool. Apparently this rule resulted from an experience a few years ago when a boater with twelve souls aboard took a mooring and his guests clogged the swimming lanes. But MBCY has a great guest shower which we did use before an excellent dinner in their restaurant. From the restaurant deck, you see the pool in the foreground, their mooring field in mid ground and a wee bit of the east side of City Island under the setting sun.
Another good nights sleep and a good breakfast aboard before sailing back to the Harlem.
Before casting off, however, I finished the improvements that I had been working on. I hung the wool (or maybe cotton) wall hanging of a stylized sailboat that we got in Finland (dare I call it a tapestry?). (Sorry about the color and underlined nature of this next paragraph; I didnt intend it and cant get out of it!) I installed a new block at the base of the mast and a new fifth clutch on the starboard side of the coach roof, next to the other four of them there, so the winch there can handle the outhaul. From now on I can change the tension of the foot of the main sail and thereby trim it better without having to go forward to the mast, laying on my back there, having Lene steer up into the wind and hauling on the outhaul line manually. My only mistake was caused by Lewmar, which provided absolutely zero instructions on how to install their clutch. To release the four existing ones, I lift a lever that swivels up and forward on a pin at the forward end of the clutch. So I installed the new one with the lever moving the same way -- which was backward!!
All the others open one way; this new different one, the other!
In other words, when closed, the clutch did not hold the line when you want to lock it, but it did prevent you from tightening the line. But having done all the drilling and bolt and washer selection and grinding and snakeing of the line needed for the first installation, it took only ten more minutes to detach and reattach the clutch the right way. The clutch is fastened to the coach roof reinforced by strong washers, above this removable panel in the cabin ceiling.
This little job used an enormous number of specialized tools and I confess that I was pleased with myself. Thanks go to my rigger, Jeff Lazar, proprietor of Performance Yacht Management, who encouraged me to do it myself and gave me some helpful hints. He had also told me the size of the Allen stud which I installed myself (And I sorely regret that I did not bring my camera to the top of the mast to gain pictures of our clubhouse and mooring field from an altitude of 63.5 feet above sea level. Lene cranked me up and let me down gently. Another time for that photo.) While working from the top of the mast of a nearby boat Jeff also advised me to possibly shorten the strap at the clew of the Genoa to lower it a bit. The last step on the clutch job will be using a punch that Jeff recommended, and a hammer, to drive out a horizontal athwartship pin embedded in the forward end of the boom on which three thumb cleats rotate. They were used to hold the out haul line and the two reefing lines (red and black, remember) in place. Now, that the third and last of them is led to the cockpit, the thumb cleats are worse than superfluous -- they tend to chew up the lines. Our sail home on Sunday in the late morning was via the shortest logical route on a variety of port reaches, from broad to close. It rained a bit en-route and with more and heavier rain forecast for the afternoon, and my shoulder getting sore from too much sailing, we made a short day of it.
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