[Public-List] 2nd Misery Trip of 2019... and a confession.

[Gordon Laco]

Only a week ago, which would make it last weekend, we went on our last trip up the coast for the last time this year.   (I’m watching Bogart in ’The Big Sleep’ on TV while writing this, so I’m trying to talk like Marlow… but it’s too much trouble.)

So last weekend was the ‘fake’ Misery Trip, the one our club runs which appropriated the name from the real trip, which we did a few weeks ago.  That trip was quite pleasant, so I felt compelled to do the other trip too.  The second one fulfilled all expectations with regard to suffering.

My old friend from school days made the trip up again and Saturday morning we clambered aboard in cool conditions and threat of rain to sail over to Chimney Bay where the fleet was to gather.  There is a picnic shelter there complete with wood stove, so we could have our gathering in some comfort even if it was snowing, as it sometimes does on this trip.

The wind was a weird easterly, which we have so often this year I suppose we shouldn’t call it weird. (That’s Marlow again…)  My buddy has been threatening to get his own boat, so I declared he would be skipper for the outbound trip in order to give him some stick time sailing SURPRISE. 

I’ve not mentioned his name because on his first tack we went around and nearly gybed… after a post mortem on steering through a tack, we tried it again, but this time instead of oversteering he understeered.  We came up into the wind with the rig shaking and rattling, came around enough to haul the genny around, then just as we started off we shot up into the wind again and stalled with the genoa aback.   

I looked over my shoulder and my buddy said ‘what happened’.   I replied, 'well if you where planning to heave to…. you did it.’    We both laughed then carried on.  He got the hang of it as we hammered back and forth out Lower Penetanguishene Bay.  

Back and forth, back and forth; the nice thing about beating up a coast is that each time we cam loping in on starboard tack we were way up the shore, with the last landmark nicely to leeward.   My friend got smoother and smoother on the helm, I was glad for him.

In the harder puffs he learned to feather the boat up to weather a little, stealing a few yards at the expense of the gust while keeping the boat on her feet… other times he eased the main a bit then hauled it in again once to gust was over… great fun.

Finally we were past the clay bank at the tip of Beausoliel Island which brought on a wave of story telling about the time we spent quite an interesting afternoon helping another yacht off the putty…then got stuck ourselves while recovering our anchors.  What did our benefactor do?  He left us there… hahaha its funny now but if we’d had a 2pdr then, well…

Up the inside of Beausoliel, past the sad place where in the 1960’s an excursion boat hosting a late night party aboard caught fire and beached itself.  Most of the passengers were intoxicated…. the ones who leaped overboard and found the bottom walked ashore… those who didn’t realize the water was only chest deep drowned.  Horrible.

There was enough south in the east wind that we shot past this place, past the various buoys on schedule and so up to Chimney Bay.  We saw nobody there yet so we took the choice spot and got our hook down in 21 feet of water.  We made some hot soup and then had a beer relaxing, awaiting developments.

Over the next few hours two more boats arrived, and we learned that this was the extent of the expedition. We learned that one of our friends who would have brought his boat was in hospital having had a heart attack, and was awaiting surgery.  (He’s had his surgery now and is doing well)  His erstwhile crew were crammed aboard our club’s commodore’s boat.

So ashore we went, each of the three boats offering its deck cargo of split firewood for the stove.  Shipping plastic was wrapped around the building and a piece of tarp hung in the doorway… a fire was lit in the stove and soon it was cheery warm inside.   

Story telling and laughter got well underway while food was eaten and beers shared.   One of our number recounted how he’d been at work in Toronto one day when he was a student, and heard on the radio that some sort of outdoor music concert was running out of control even before it started in upstate New York.  It was Friday afternoon, so he got permission to leave early and rounded up a friend.  They left the roof of his MG at his parent’s place to make room for their camping gear and set out to drive to Woodstock.

They hit the traffic jam a few hours later and there they sat for the rest of Friday, then Saturday, then Sunday, in the rain.   They finally got on the grounds of the famous event Sunday evening… he told us that most of the bands stayed and played on Monday after the exodus had officially begun. 

I made us a gonzo chicken stir fry with rice… we laughed about how much better the fare is aboard SURPRISE than aboard my old boat.  In her beans barely warmed was more usual. 

So finally it was getting late, and we couldn’t pretend any longer that the hissing on the plastic walls wasn’t happening.  Yup, rain and a lot of wind.  

Fred and I made it out to SURPRISE in the borrowed inflatable… but things weren’t going so well off to port.  We heard laughter, then shouting, then a lot of shouting, the words ‘GET BACK IN THE BOAT! being repeated.  We later learned that one of the crew of that boat had had too much to drink, and when clambering into his dinghy had carried on over the far side and into the water.   Recovered safe but soaking wet, he’d gone overboard again at the boarding ladder of his boat.   His exasperated friends got him aboard for a second time and safely into his boat.   Well it’s funny because he wasn’t alone, but ….

Aboard SURPRISE we made a couple of hot toddies and got her wood stove burning.  More story telling ensued and we turned in.   I gave Fred the main cabin and I took my usual bunk up forward to starboard.

The wind built and I could feel SURPRISE yawing and yanking harder and harder on her anchor… she’d take a shear to starboard and at the apex of the swerve, there’d be a loud BANG that I could feel as well has hear, then she’d shear away the other way.  As the load eased, I’d hear the anchor chain give a long grumble… then there’d be a bang again before we started back.

I jumped up and went out into the howling night expecting to see the chain had broken the bow roller and I had been listening to the chain tearing the forestay off.

That’s not what was happening.  I’d rigged the nylon rope snubber and chain hook inboard as has been my practice lately.  When the boat sheared and a harder load came on the anchor chain, the snubber stretched enough to let a link of the chain go over the roller.  That was the bang.  When the load eased, the stretch came off the snubber and the chain crept back in…that was the rumble.  I noted that the second anchor we’d laid on its rope cable wasn’t doing anything, but given the violence of the night I was glad it was out.

So back to bed… but I have to say I hardly slept a wink from the noise.  The Banging was no longer alarming, although I didn’t like it and resolved that next time heavy weather was forecast I’d run the snubber over the boat as per normal.  Rain and sometimes sleet hammered on the deck.  The rigging hummed and throbbed, it’s pitch changing by octaves in the gusts.

I was very glad to see light coming in the ports and eventually it was morning.  What a sight.  The SW wind was blowing up the channel into the bay and there were whitecaps all around.  We had not dragged an inch, despite the second anchor never taking any load due to the wind veering a little to put the load on the main anchor.

We made a breakfast of ham and eggs with hot coffee while the boat danced… it was almost like cooking while at sea.   

The other two boats texted news about their experiences and we shared comments that we might stay the day rather than bash home against the wind.  However, this peril was averted by means of the marine forecast offering that the storm was going to abate at noon.  And sure enough it did, so each boat up anchored and we motored home in company.

SURPRISE was hauled out a few days later and I winterized her systems the next day… that would be yesterday.

Now for the confession.

We had another engine problem this year in addition to the electrical one, and the carb related one.  We developed an exhaust leak in the first elbow coming off the exhaust manifold.   

I patched it with a very effective epoxy tape that cooks into place after being wrapped over the wound.   I knew this wasn’t a permanent cure and worried about it whenever we ran the engine. 

So my good friend Rick, who was head of the Marine School at Georgian College when I taught rigging and systems there came to the rescue.  Together, today, we sawed through the second elbow (what a battle even using a power sawsall…) then removed the A4’s manifold and bronze water lift muffler.   

That took about three hours.

We took the manifold and muffler to his workshop and using a lot of heat, as well as paired pipe wrenches with pipes extending their handles, carefully but with a lot of force, separated the rusted elbows.  

That took an hour.

Tonight I ordered new gaskets and various small exhaust flange parts from Moyer… Don responded right away even though it’s Sunday night, good man. When they arrive we’ll reassemble the engine and we’ll be ready for spring. 
 The only problem with that is that spring is five months away….



Gord Laco
www.gordonlaco.com
#426 Surprise