A good wind at last.

  Saturday and Sunday, June 9 and 10, 2001. We arrived at the boat Saturday afternoon, not bright and early. We arrived soon after the midday sun could really get to us, but it made little difference. The wind was about zero that afternoon so we passed the time on a trip to West Marine and some minor repairs and maintenance. There had been some impressive rains the past week but there were only a few damp spots inside the boat. The long hours of work are showing real improvements in Whisper’s fitness on the water. This time we replaced the old weather seal on the pop-top and managed to wrestle a slightly ill fitting boom bail quite firmly onto the bottom of the mast giving us a boom vang at long last.

  This was also the first time we slept on the boat. It was a little warm but not too uncomfortable overall. We are both a bit overweight and a 22-foot boat is on the small side, so the V berth was a snug fit for us but not much more so than both of us and our cats in bed at home. Getting in and out was the hard part. Once in and settled down, sleep came fast.

  We rose about 6 in the morning and found that the only real inconveniences were showering and finding coffee. Once those chores were out of the way it was back to waiting for wind. I was disappointed that the forecasts were so completely wrong. Wind out of the North at ten miles per hour? Not at all! Where do they get this stuff? A neighbor walking by on the dock said the wind would start around ten o’clock. I thought that was an odd thing to presume to predict. About ten we finally got tired of getting ready and decided to motor out and just float if nothing else.

  As we were raising our sails we saw three other sailboats follow us out. Two of them were larger ones than us with much more experienced crews judging from how neatly and quickly the sails went up and how gracefully they eventually floated straight down the river and into the bay. A south wind was starting up, just as if they were expecting it. The other boat was closer to us, it was one that we had considered buying for a short time but never got around to seeing until we accidentally discovered that it was the very boat one of our new neighbors was sitting on even as we were introducing ourselves. This was a first time out for his family, getting to know a new boat. Good for them. 

  We had a bit of a struggle, as usual, raising sail, then more trouble the first time hooking up the boom vang. Our trove of miscellaneous hardware once again proved itself with vital contributions. I owe it more hardware now. I will go shopping for it soon. I promise.

  The two taller boats were well on their way down the river by the time we finally, and for the first time, got around that one marker that had stopped us twice before. This time we drifted becalmed in that odd eddy just north of it for just a few minutes before Rhonda insisted we fire up the motor and pass it. I didn’t think that was very sporting, but knew she wasn’t in any mood to play around with that thing any more. Our neighbor and his family were also motoring past the same spot. Once past, the wind came up from the south as if a spell were broken. We shut down the motor and waved a farewell to them and wished them well as we continued upwind down the river. The other two were far ahead of us, and tacking gracefully into the bay.

  We do not tack gracefully. I don’t think there’s anything about sailing we have yet mastered to the extent that our clumsiness and confusion don’t show. This is most obvious when we are going upwind. Our turns stop us dead, whether too fast or too slow. We pinch the wind, or fall into a broad reach too easily. When we are doing none of those things we waver in our course. So, we eventually but not quickly got to the mouth of the North River, and finally into Mobjack Bay. It was a victory! We were absurdly pleased with ourselves.

  Taking stock of our situation, we decided to go back and call it a weekend. Having gotten this far, we found the waves to be a bit frisky here. I suspected that since the wind had only recently whipped them up they hadn’t yet settled to regular waves, and the tidal currents and direction of the waves might also be conflicting a bit. I suspected the more open water would be more comfortable but didn’t know for sure. We also realized that we had made our way out here while the sun crossed its zenith. We were getting a bit red. We were two half-baked sofa spuds.

  Now Rhonda decided to hide below from the sun and let me run downwind. With a boom vang it was much easier and much faster. She also set up the big racing compass we bought long ago. I had put it in a lower hatch board to mount in the companionway. The upper one was at home for some trimming down. They were going to be a replacement for the one piece one we were still using, but things never go as planned. The compass made running with the wind much safer since I could go longer without constantly craning my neck to see the wind tell. A compass bearing was good for a few minutes at a time.

  Running with the wind was much different from tacking upwind. The mood of the water changed altogether. Where before we were practically jumping leapfrog over the waves, splashing and thumping our way along, now waves were passing us slowly from behind. Sometimes we even kept up with them and the wind and water would seem to stop moving at all for some moments. If a whitecap broke nearby it seemed a strange outburst in the relative silence.

  Where the compass really came in handy was when the jib sail would swing over to the opposite side from the main sail when running directly downwind. We could go pretty good wing-and-wing like that but it required that I keep a course within about five degrees or so. Too far one way and the jib would flutter; too far the other and the boom would try to kill me again. That's hard on the rigging even if it misses my head. That is the one and only drawback to a boom vang; when the boom swings around in a gibe it swings lower. I found the compass was easier to see than points ashore, so I could keep everything balanced pretty well. I still had to check the wind tell from time to time but not as often. As long as I kept in those few degrees we just scooted along.

  I was mildly surprised that the wind did not stop at that marker where we kept stalling out. The wind and waves and Whisper swept right on by. The spell was truly broken, either that or it only works going one way. Time will tell. The last mile went quickly. The wind and waves were so strong at last that taking the sails down was actually harder this time than putting them up. The boat pitched and squirreled around in the wind with me on the narrow bow. Waves broke around me and I laughed as I had to stop and hold on to the boat to keep from falling in over and over again. Rhonda was sailing under main alone and I don’t know, even now, how well she was keeping the bow to the wind. All I know is, I didn’t fall in.

  The main sail came down and we began to roll it around the boom. Something wasn't working. It took a little thinking and looking to find that I had forgotten to unhook the boom vang. There was more fighting with that to get it free, still balancing on a deck that wouldn’t hold still. Then the boom and attached hardware simply went below. Rhonda, always needing to tidy up, followed it. I fired up the motor and headed in.

It was a very good day.