Thursday I went to go sailing with my friend Hugh, who has a 1977 Catalina 25. He has had her (I forget the name) a year and taken her out on the Great Salt Lake 12 times, so I mistakenly assumed he was at least moderately familiar with the boat and how to do what needed to be done to go sailing. As it turns out he only really knows enough to get himself into trouble, or in the absence of trouble, enough to get the vessel in open water and under sail with trouble lurking around the corner.
When we arrive to the marina Hugh makes some comment about the spiders. Apparently its been a month since Hugh sailed last and I can attest, leaving a boat for that long at that marina results in your vessel being virtually cocooned in spider webs. The GSL is famous for the Brine Shrimp (sea monkeys) and Brine flies. The abundance of flies leads to an abundance of spiders, most notably the Araneidae, or the common Orb Weaver. These suckers get big. I saw some as big as a silver dollar (including legs). But I’m sure they are great for all the migratory birds the lake plays host to.
When we get to the slip, I realize Hugh’s boat was not purchased for its beauty. She is definitely showing her age, and the brightwork … isn’t. Even the brightwork that is still on the boat, obviously hasn’t been bright for years.
As we board, Hugh tells me we need to lower the mast to fix the halyard that had jumped the block the last time he took her out on the lake. I figured, okay, no problem, just tell me what to do. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if Hugh had known what to do himself, or if he had bothered to tell me he was clueless.
So I follow along as Hugh removes the boom and sail, loosens the shrouds, detaches the jib stay, ties a rope to the stay, hands me the rope and … removes the bolt that the mast is supposed to pivot on. I’m sure anyone who has spent any time on a sailboat (or anyone familiar with physics) will realize that Hugh has just removed his footing and the 27′ mast is going to pivot on Hugh’s shoulder rendering me and the rope virtually useless. But I figured, it’s his boat, he must know what he’s doing. That myth was quickly shattered when the mast came crashing down on the transom railing. The aluminum mast was no match for the steel handrail. The mast has a large dent next to the track (I’m sure there is a proper name but I don’t know it), and it is slightly bent. Hugh figures it will be okay, fixes the halyard at the block, and we get the mast standing again. As we are re-attaching the rigging, Hugh pushes the mast towards the bow to assist in reattaching the stay, but in the process breaks the bolt that holds the starboard aft shroud to the deck.
“Thats okay, we’ll just tie it to the handrail for now and I’ll fix it later.”
“Great.” I think to myself.
So we get everything put back together, fire up the outboard and begin to head out on the lake.
On the way out, there were very few flies, the wind was gently blowing and it really was a pleasant experience and a beautiful day.
When we have cleared the buoys Hugh kills the outboard and begins to raise the sail. The sail goes up smoothly, until it reaches the dent. The mast was dented a little too much to allow the slug to pass by it. My hopes of sailing the Great Salt Lake were shattered, for that day at any rate.
As we begin to head back to the marina, the flies suddenly bombard the boat and it feels as though we aren’t moving as there is no breeze. We conclude it is a result of a tailwind and current that is moving at the rate we are. The flies are a bit annoying but rather harmless. The outboard motor on Hugh’s boat is a short shaft and not real powerful, so I’m sure with a little more speed, the flies would not have been an issue.
We dock back at Hugh’s slip and decide to remove the mast again (the correct way this time, much easier and safer) so Hugh can fix or replace it at a later time without requiring any additional help.
So I didn’t actually get to sail, but I enjoyed the experience, and definitely learned a lot, mainly what not to do and what not to buy.
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[...] on one day about 22 years ago don’t count) but that didn’t work out so well. (see: The non-glamourous side of sailing) So, like most of my endeavors, I ended up going about it all ass backwards. Tuesday I [...]
Hey, your nautical lingo vocab is increasing nicely! Stays and shrouds and dents, oh my!
And yes, we do learn the hard way sometimes that just because someone has a boat, it doesn’t necessarily mean s/he knows how to use it.
Bummer about the flies.
It’s good to learn what not to do. Why uninvent the wheel? It seems a waste of evolution.