Caddy

This photo shows the caddy that is just inside the companionway to port. The white dome above is the back of the compass. The caddy is handy for pen, pencil, dividers, Weems plotter etc., and it's a good place to toss your wallet or cell phone. On the right side of the caddy (as seen) you can just see the orange handle of a small screwdriver, switchable between phillips and flat by pulling out the shaft and reinserting it in the handle. I wouldn't be without it in this convenient spot. I'd also like to keep pliers here, maybe on the left side, but I don't want such a mass of steel so close to the compass. I'm hoping one day to find bronze pliers.

Under the caddy you can see a very sharp serrated stainless steel knife in its sheath. The sheath is screwed to the caddy and the knife snaps in, very secure. The knife is ostensibly for emergencies but I mostly use it for limes. These knives are available very inexpensively in fishermen's supply stores.

Flying Batteries

Journeyman has two batteries, a big "house" battery (pictured here) and a smaller starting battery, located under the sole just aft of the house battery, in the same space. The main switch allows me to choose between batteries, or to run them in parallel, or to turn the electrical system off, in which case only the bilge pump circuit remains energized.

I can hardly imagine the calamity that could allow my batteries to fall out of their space, but good practice requires that batteries be secured, so I put a piece of maple across the opening, held by a screw at each end. Does the job.

The Coast Guard requires fishing boats to have batteries in two locations. Typically the main bank is low in the boat and the other, which may be a single battery, is in the wheelhouse. The idea, of course, is to allow the radio to function even if the boat has taken on water. I don't have that set up on Journeyman, but I do carry a handheld, waterproof VHF.

If I were crossing the Atlantic I might set up a separate bank, but perhaps I would instead change over to Absorbed Glass Mat  (AGM) batteries, which it is claimed will provide power even if submerged.

Snotter

On Journeyman we use a short piece of line to steady the boom when we are motoring as well as when the boat is on the mooring. We needed a name for this valuable item, so I borrowed the term "snotter" from the spritsail rig. The true snotter is the very short line that connects the sprit to the mast.

The true snotter.

Journeyman's snotter, with the boom locked in.

Journeyman's snotter accomplishes the following:   It makes the boom rock-steady when motoring or on the mooring. This reduces wear and tear on the gooseneck from the otherwise constant motion of the boom when the boat is in the water. It makes the boom an effective grab for anyone who might need steadying, especially when lubbers are coming aboard and the main is not yet up. Reefing the main is safer with the snotter on, although the boat must be right in the wind to use the snotter. Finally, with the snotter locking the boom in position the main is a far more effective steadying sail, and the boom won't clock someone on the head if the boat comes head to wind. The main may flog, but the boom itself won't budge.

Our snotter is nothing more than a six foot piece of 5/8 inch three-strand dacron (but almost any rope would do) with an eye splice in one end. We place the splice over a cleat near the end of the boom and take the snotter to a cleat on the coaming and snug it. The mainsheet is also snug, and of course the topping lift holds the boom up. That's all there is to it, but it is a really valuable little item.

Handy place to stow horn

It's not always easy to predict when you might need the horn so it should be stowed at hand. I keep mine beneath the lazarette hatch, just aft of the tiller:

The holder is made from a notched section of PVC, screwed to the hatch. I sanded the PVC flat where it lies against the hatch, so it is a little more secure. The strap is nylon and it has velcro on it, and of course there is velcro on the PVC as well. The velcro has adhesive but the adhesive will not hold, so I sewed it to the strap, and I sewed it to the PVC as well, through little holes I drilled. The set up has lasted for years.

Whistle signals are one of those salty practices that recreational boaters have let go, it appears to me, and that is unfortunate. One year I was running out the river under power and big, expensive J boat, 50 feet or so, was coming up river going pretty fast and also under power. We were both in the dredged channel and there was no room for error or uncertainty, so I grabbbed the horn and gave him one short bast, for a port to port passage. There was no response from him, which didn't surprise me, but that I had properly signaled my intentions made me feel better and we passed without incident. Maybe the short blast at least prompted him to review the whistle signals he had probably learned in some boating course; I hope it did.

I get the horn out when I am in a narrow channel, or in some channel, such as the Cape Cod Canal or tide-swept Woods Hole, where boats have a hard time maneuvering and you might need to make your intentions clear on very short notice.

Here are the whistle signals. I use only the first two, and very occasionaly the "danger signal."

One short blast: I am turning to starboard (or "will pass port to port"). Two short blasts: I am turning to port (or "will pass starboard to starboard"). Three short blasts: "I am backing down." Five or more short blasts: Danger signal, or "I do not understand your intentions." One long blast: The "bend signal", for a vessel coming around a pier where it may surprise another ship, or sometimes used by a larger vessel leaving a berth.

I use whistle signals rarely, maybe two or three times a season, but it's useful and necessary to know them.

"Checking the Engine"

In "checking the engine" a surprising number of cruisers do nothing more than check the oil level from time to time, maybe eyeballing the stopped engine too. This may occur with a certain amount of ceremony: It is announced that before the day's sail commences the skipper is going to Check The Engine, all hands are warned to stay clear, the engine cover is hauled back, and the skipper checks the engine oil level and whatever else, almost as though he knows what he's doing.

It is of course essential to check the engine oil level, and, at the same time, to look at the oil for signs of coolant getting into the oil (resulting in a greyish emulsion in the oil). And maybe a shredding belt will be obvious. But most engine problems start as leaks: coolant leaks, raw water leaks, exhaust leaks, fuel leaks, oil leaks. Coolant, raw water (sea water), exhaust, fuel and oil are all under more or less pressure in an operating engine, and that's why one checks for leaks when the engine is running, not when it's stopped. This is fundamental, but as I said a lot of folks don't do it.

An inspection mirror, a flashlight and ear protection are the tools. The hearing protection is not just a matter of preserving hearing, but so you are comfortable taking your time. Look around the oil filter and each fuel filter, checking behind these parts with the inspection mirror as necessary. Check around the fuel injectors and at each connection - diesel fuel is injected at a high pressure, and a leak can result in a fine spray that has caused many fires. Inspect the raw water pump. Same with the heat exchanger. It is all very loud, and please stay clear of rotating parts, but such an inspection will often give you warning of severe failure.

Here's a boring story: A few years ago I saw that the raw water pump was leaking a little at the shaft. I ordered a new one and when I decommissioned I replaced the pump.

That's the end of the story. I know this story would be more exciting had my raw water pump failed on a cruise, maybe at a crucial moment, but as I said, it's a boring story. May your engine stories be boring too.

A Late Season Overnight

On Friday my wife and I sailed to Jewell Island for an overnight. The forecast was for a moderate easterly blow with rain, but beginning the next day.

We got underway about 5:00 pm. It is about eight miles to Jewell and we didn't want to anchor in the dark, so we motorsailed a lot of the time, on a close fetch. For the last leg, about two miles, we shut down and had a fine reach to Jewell Cove.

Well before we got to the entrance I handed the jib and the main. It is so important to get those things out of the way before entering an anchorage - you really don't want to be messing around with sails when the rocks are 100 feet away and the light is failing. If we hadn't had time to furl the main I'd just have dropped it, and come in all sloppy and sails over the side but focused on the task at hand - keeping the boat off the bricks. As it was, when we entered I was up on the bow keeping a good lookout.

Another boat entered as we did and we were the only boats in the anchorage.  The other boat went to the head of the cove and secured to an old dolphin there. It is shallow in that spot. We picked a wide spot, lowered the anchor to the water, backed down to give her a little sternway, and lowered the hook in 12 feet (low water). I let out 60 feet (30 feet of chain and 30 of rope rode). We waited until the boat straightened out and we backed down pretty hard for about 30 seconds. We usually do that when anchoring for the night, especially if there is wind in the forecast. A lot of folks just back down enough to set the anchor but they don't really test it, and I don't see why not. If you wake in the night and the wind is whistling you can go back to sleep if you know you have already really tested the set of the anchor.

Got a nice fire going with briquettes and beech chunks, very cheery. It was a little breezy now. Nice Friday night music on the radio. Drinks, and dinner of red beans and rice. The forward bunk was cozy and we slept great.

The rain threatened and the wind was rising when we woke up. After breakfast, we got underway as usual. The anchor was dug deep (that's the idea) and when we had the rode about up and down I took a turn around the cleat and, gunning the engine, we broke out the anchor. Then it was easy to get the anchor up and into the roller.

We loitered around the anchorage while I stowed the anchor rode down the naval pipe - I could see there was wind outside and I didn't want to be doing that on a bouncy foredeck, nor did I want to do it while we navigated out the entrance, which has nasty rocks close aboard on both sides. Instead, I stayed on the bow keeping watch and we made sail outside. (The night before, after I dropped the jib I left it hanked on but I folded it up pretty well and tied the folded sail to the pulpit with a sail tie. The sheets were left run aft. The sail was thus mostly off the deck and clear of the anchor but ready to go the next day.)

Then a close reach and a great broad reach, maybe 20 knots of wind. The tide was fair and we were back on the mooring in an hour and a half. By then the rain was in earnest and wet we got! But it was a great late season overnight.




 

Oil Lamp

On Journeyman we have a really good oil lamp, the gift of a friend. I don't know who makes it but it is modelled after a miner's lamp and I have seen it in the sailing catalogues. The chimney is protected so you don't have to worry about it. When we are sailing at night I often keep it burning, low.