Daggerboard trunk glued up and rear seat glued on

Ok my patient mates, heres some photographic evidence of my work on the boat last week before I left for self-imposed exile at work.

First, I finally got that bedamned daggerboard trunk glued up.  Somehow, I wasnt forward thinking enough, and I glassed up the daggerboard without really giving much thought to how it fit in the already made trunk.  Well, I did but discounted further planing on of the daggerboard and decided that I was done with all the planing and sanding thank-you-very-much and whatever I had, I had.

This was most unfortunate, because I few more minutes of planing would have produced a superior quality board, and it would have fit in my daggerboard case.  So then I was stuck with the project of widening my case, but only by 2-3mm at most because really, all I needed was 1-2mm.

Fortunately, I found 3mm Okoume marine plywood at Goose Bay Lumber, and cut it to fit over the framing for the trunk.  This widened the trunk appropriately.  Here is the widening sequence in pictures:

Very self-explanatory, I think.

Next, I still struggle with the hardward issues for the rudder and transom gudgeons.  I dont know how Im going to get this rudder assembly attached to the boat.  The problem is that the hole to accomodate the tiller does not have the vertical clearance required to use a gudgeon-pintle scheme, which is by far the most convenient.  I toyed around with it and thought about enlarging my tiller-hole, but my pintle arms didnt fit around the rudder cassette.  A second order of larger, more heavy-duty gudgeons for rudder and transom fit great, except not with each other, and the arms were too long for the spacer in the cassette... A rod pushed through the gudgeons would not have fit cleanly and I would have had a clunky feeling rudder, the round peg in an oval opening thing, if you can visualize that.  So I still sit, wondering how I will fix this conundrum.  Many people have done it successfully, but Im still hunting around for the best hardware.

Because of all this drama, I have delayed gluing on the rear seat.  I got tired of having it loose, and glued it on before I left.  Here, yet again, is my "Forest of Bricks" holding it all down.

And the gratuitous parting shot:

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Daggerboard case intallation spars

WELL Im on a schedule where Im home about 48 hrs a week, which means 47 hrs of boatbuilding, and 1 hour of laundry.  Not really.

So during my past 48 hrs home I got to it and was able to install the daggerboard case and I hit on a major find for my spars.

For starters, I dragged my boat out of the garage into the driveway and noticed a pronounced twist in the stern.  This.was.bad.news.  If the intrepid reader remembers, I glued down my rear seat last time, and gluing down the rear seat definitely locks in and twist into the hull.  Because of this I was super super careful to make sure there was no twist when I glued it in, using a level and some strategically placed buckets.  I ran outside and moved my boat... and the twist was still there.  There was no way I was going to get any work done if the boat was twisted.  Using some brute force and a rigid vacuum tube I rolled my boat to the pond and threw it in the water.... and she floated straight as a die.  No twist.  PHEW!!!  HOLY HOT HEART ATTACK BATMAN!

Back out of the water, I did some sanding in the interior of the hull to make it easier in the future, and went around installing the daggerboard case.  What is most important is that the case is straight.  If it comes off-kilter, Ive got a giant blade dragging me off into some obscure direction that Im going to counteract with the rudder, and its going to be drag city.  In order to make sure that the case is straight, I stretched a string from the center of BH2 to BH3 over the top of the case.

So here it is, mocked into position with my centerline string.  I tried at first to do this on the ground, but I got much better results up on the buckets.  I think the runners are slightly different and offering tweaked ground handling characteristics.

I cut the ribs for the front of the seat amidships.  They actually came out ever-so-slightly larger than needed- a mistake- that ended up helping me out in the end.  When I put the case into position it would slip around with the oversized rib, I could gently cajole the case into position which was verified by the string.  When everything was straight, I carefully clamped everything into position.  Youll notice the square behind the ribs next to the case to increase gluing area.  The port rib is a little higher than it should be (remember, they were a tad oversize) and Ill plane it down level for the seat installation.

This whole skeleton will be glued together by the center seat.  This, with BH3 and the forward ribs will create the lever that will hold the case in place.  Remember, when I capsize, Im going to be standing on the daggerboard to right the boat, with all my pressure on the case.  This massive gluing area will keep it from ripping out when Im in the water in the middle of nowhere.

Here are two shots of my daggerboard case lined up with my string.

In other news, I went over to Goose Bay Lumber to grab some Doug Fir 1x4s so I could glue up some spars.  I had come up with some crazy idea to put the spars together as a laminated structure since I didnt think Id find blanks that were large enough.  I did.  I found some finished 2x6 DF boards that were 20 feet long.  I had them cut to 12 feet.  A quick rip on my table saw, and I had two skinny blanks and one fat blank.

The spars are on average 40mm diameter.  I get 37mm with the blanks.  My spar is about 37mm x 40 mm or so.  Ill keep it like this for the length and not taper it.  Its kind of bendy, and I need some bendy up at the top of my sail, since I hear that the Duckworks sail can be a little flat.  This should help.  My boom will be 37mm x 50mm or so.  If these are too bendy, I can laminate some ply at key areas to stiffen it up.  This was a quick, easy, and totally suitable solution.  Easy!

Until next week, intrepid reader!

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Portland almost to Seguin Island and back

Not my picture, not my boat

Before we get started on some SeaPearl 21 adventuring in Casco Bay, I want to point out Dave-in-NJs blog about his Goatee Goat Island Skiff "Chivita" and some pretty damn epic sailing he did around New York Harbor.  Its somewhat of a departure from my Goat perched on a wild island in Down East Maine, but it is just as epic, if not more for the sheer stupendousness of that mother of all cities, New York City, and her crazy harbor.  Please see this post in particular.  If your heart doesnt get thumping, you must not like Goat Island Skiffs, and I question why you are here in the first place.

Dave, you go man.  You go.  Impressive.

***

Now for the main feature:

In which SeaPearl Scout and I sail around Casco Bay, meet a squall, and get boarded by fictitious pirates.

Red = Day 1, Yellow = Day 2.  Black = Iron Mizzen usage

I headed out of South Portland recently and met up with a Pearson 30 as she sailed north along the Maine coast, destination Brooklin and WoodenBoat.  I planned to be along for a day, maybe two.  The first nights destination was either going to be Damirscove Island or Seguin, depending on distance travelled.  I thought I could probably make Seguin via Half-Way Rock, but Damirscove was probably out for me due to the distance and my energy level.

The weather was fine, with a remote chance of thunderstorms, and calm winds gave way to a beautiful stiff breeze of the kind that you can only really find on salt water.

Scout moved along smoothly and with efficiency. I pushed her hard which means I pushed myself hard, and gave myself little time to eat, drink, pee, or enjoy the sailing, as I was intent on keeping up with the Pearson 30 (which I did, but jeez... enjoy the ride already, right?)

Blowing out to Half-Way Rock with nice water and a good breeze!

Pearson 30 

 After I had passed Half-Way Rock (no pictures, sorry, but lots of seals!) it started to become blatantly obvious that the slight chance of thunderstorms was going to probably become a very real chance.  In the deeps of my ears I imagined I could hear low-frequency rumbling, even though the sky still looked somewhat innocuous.  Soon however, it was apparent that we were in for a blow.

Trouble brewing

 I cracked down to make as much mileage as I could towards Small Point/Cape Small not in a vain attempt to outrun the storm, but to get closer to the shore so that if things went bad, I wouldnt be miles out to sea.

Behind me, the wall of bruised green and black advanced, with thunder filling the air.  It was on.  My buds in the Pearson 30 became insignificant by contrast.  I hoved-to and started preparations.

Trouble is creeping up on the Pearson 30! Run guys, run!

Battened down.  Small Point in the distance behind me.  Trouble is on its way!

We tied Scout up and towed her behind the Pearson 30, which was actually a mistake.  When the squall hit she sailed on her own, and the skipper had to stay ahead of her.  It would have been far more desirable to hunker down in Scout and ride out the storm with her as it would have been significantly less nerve wracking.  Lesson learned.  When the storm passed the crew of the Pearson decided to make for Damirscove, and I broke off and headed towards Harpswell to a small island on the Maine Island Trail.

The Squall over, I take my leave of the Pearson 30 and sail out of the dark and into the sun.  This was a good feeling.

Wet, but pleased with this particular outcome

 I reached the island after navigating around and over several treacherous reefs (again, yes! 6" draft!) and found that there were few good access points.  I was somewhat chuffed at the description of this particular island as I was lulled into thinking Id have a good beach, but with a stable west breeze, Scout was held perfectly in a small cove with a flat bottom so she could bottom out at low tide.  Exhausted after approx 22 miles of sailing, I ate some rice and crashed in my tent on shore.

Nestled in for the night... or is she?

My view in the morning.  Peaceful.  I am happy!

 I awoke the next morning to *BANG CRASH BANG* and the first thoughts in my tent was:

1. Raccoons are searching for tasty food morsels and ripping things apart

2. Crazy hobo person who probably lives on island is ransacking my boat

3. Pirates (this one bad)

With little fanfare (Im pretty sure I was naked) I went running out of the tent down to the shore and around the corner, where I found Scout slightly south of her original position and bottomed out on a now not-so-flat bottom, her bow pointing skyward, and my booms sliding down to the stern of the boat.  No pirates, but a sorry sight!

It looked steeper in real life.   

When you are waiting for a tide to fix your sorry boat, you might as well make coffee.

 When the tide came back up and floated Scout into position, we hauled back for Portland.  Southbound, I had some of the finest sailing I can recount this year, making significant mileage against the tide with a steady breeze.  There was much hollering and hooting and, as with IAZ,P, lobstermen waved cheerfully as we passed.

Booming home.  

 The wind really picked up and we reefed down continuously as the day progressed, finally putting in at Fort Gorges in Portland Harbor where we waited for the wind to calm a bit so pulling the boat out of the water wouldnt be as dramatic.  Scout happily sat in the small harbor while I read my WoodenBoat and napped on the beach.  This is summer.  This is happy.

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Sebascodegan Island Circumnavigation Legendary!

Welcome Intrepid Readers and fellow Skippers to a time honored Maine tradition accomplished this past week by your favorite Sea Pearl 21 and her surly crew-- the Circumnavigation of Sebascodegan ("Great") Island!

NOT FOR NAVIGATION
get your own damn chart!
NOAA

Im not going to pansyfoot around the proverbial bushes: The Sebascodegan Circumnavigation is a beautiful must-do cruise for any small boaty type person and I am happy to say I hope to repeat this little adventure in the future with friends (calling Capn Jon! calling CCBB! AWWOOOOOGA).  From a little bit of ocean (not too much) to quiet upper waterways and small channels, low bridges, and friendly eagles, this was a great, great trip!  Hooray greatness!

I have mapped my journey with NOAA Chart Viewer (for the chart) and my memory.  Hence, tacking is approximate and dawdling around looking at things and/or making big decisions is not shown.  As most here know, I eschew GPS and other devices for map and compass so no fancy-pants internet tracks.  Sorry tech-weenies, I spend my money and time on other things, like getting lost in the fog (worry not: did not happen this journey).  Also, I am sadly missing pictures of sweet sailing on the first day, as I left my camera at home and only decided to use my cell phone after I picked the island to camp.  Apologies to all, and sorry about the less-than-stellar quality of the pictures.

DAY ONE

I started somewhat late, about 4pm, from Bethel Point.  There is a ramp there, with parking at Bethel Point Marine nearby. LOW POWER LINES ABOUND. DO NOT STEP MASTS EARLY.  Very friendly little place, if no one is available to leave your money on the honor system (6$ per day), there is a box.  This is Maine at its finest. Dont screw it up!

DAY ONE 4pm-Late Evening
black: mark start/stop
red: somewhat accurate rendering of motion

Since this was the first real cruise of the season I launched in a predictable discombobulated mess and drifted for a while as I attempted to take stock. A powerboater asked if I needed a tow, probably not because I was rowing but because I looked like a menace with a pile of gear haphazardly strewn around the boat and me wandering around frantically looking for my tiller extension. At some point I managed to get the masts up and I found my tiller extension to my great relief-- no Capn Jon repeats here. With a somewhat slack tide and a strong headwind I beat down Quahog Bay, harboring dreams of staying ahead of the 30 sailboat beating down behind me.  I held my own but finally we were passed ("Pretty boat!" they hailed) and he charged southward, only to turn around and sled back north.  I continued around Gun Point snaking around underwater obstacles and settled in for a dream like wing-and-wing downwind run up to the top of Gun Point Cove.

During this run I admired the scenery and solitude for I was alone with quiet summer houses still in off-season slumber.  At one point a powerboat came charging up from behind me to ask me, "Is this New Meadows [River]?" ...  Intrepid Reader, can check chart above for yourself.  I told them they were at least two over and they bounded back before I could even read them a Can number for the entrance to New Meadows River.  Save your gas, buds.

At the top of the Gun Point Cove is a small bridge, with not much vertical or horizontal clearance.  I took down the masts and started to row through. Its quite picturesque with steep sided rock walls on either side and a narrow channel. The current had turned and was starting to flow through, Im sure she rips right through here, fortunately it was still a little slack.  There was a lobster boat coming through with some tour on board and lots of leering land-folk who gave off somewhat presumptuous airs.  The Capn and I yelled at each other a bit about how we were doing and what I would like to believe was his first mate yelled "Thats one big ass canoe to be rowing!" not to me, but to the Capn when maybe he thought I couldnt hear.  I liked that line, because the Sea Pearl looks like a canoe, and yes its a big ass canoe to be rowing and it almost sounded like I was getting some cred. Of course, Ive got the cold Iron Mizzen hanging off the back like a lump of metal, Im sure that garners the question marks and the "tourist" tag.  Thats ok, too.

At the north end of Harpswell Sound I meandered around just south of the bridge (30 vertical clearance) as I fiercely debated with myself if I should park for the night at nearby Strawberry Creek or if we continued north and enjoy the sunset and beautiful wind.  In the end, I decided to not continue up the Ewin Narrows and instead put in at Strawberry Creek Island.  The water was rapidly drawing down (thank goodness for shallow draft... holy cow guys I was skimming across some bars) and I wanted to reconnoiter the island and the landing areas so I pulled out my trust grapnel, and threw it into the weed covered rocks for a quick hook to drag me into position.  The result:

This is what a Grapnel Anchor looks like in parts.
Carry a spare.

I do not suggest throwing your anchor with fervor into the rocks. Scout and I were now mud bound.  This was fine, except I had to check on anchoring, current, and wind multiple times during the night to ensure I didnt get washed up on the rocks and then stuck high and dry the next day.  Sleep was fitful at best, all for the want of a few extra minutes of water.

From Strawberry looking south down Harpswell Sound 

At least its flat.

DAY TWO

After getting considerably less sleep than I was wanting or needing, I woke up in time for my morning constitutional and with enough time to get off the island before I lost the tide again.  I was not going to spend this beautiful day marooned on a mud flat.  This meant that while I enjoyed the company of my bailing bucket, Double Doodie bag, and a constitutional on solid ground, I had to push Scout out into the open water, which is always a heart-in-mouth moment.

Strawberry Creek Island from the boat.  Note new floorboards!

BOOM One more time:
Lt. Prestos amazing new addition to Scout, my stainless espresso maker!

Not the moment to be wondering if the bitter end is tied off.
This picture makes me proud.

But alls well that is well tied off, and I collected Scout after my constitutional and we headed under the bridge for the Ewin Narrows.

DAY TWO 8am-Noon/Siesta/2pm-5pm

The Ewin Narrows bridge is a cakewalk, over 100 of horizontal clearance and 30 of vertical, an easy pass for the Sea Pearl 21.  Wing-and-wing Scout and I leisurely worked north up the narrows.  The breeze was still that early-morning gentle, but it was enough to keep us moving at a rate that granted us good sightseeing without the dragging of feet.  At the north end of the narrows we maneuvered between Doughty Island and Doughty Point.  The island is private, but the point is a public-use preserve, and we took a quick stop there for a lay of the land.

The Doughty family cemetery.  A cellar hole is apparently nearby, but I didnt go searching for it.

Looking south into the Long Reach.  We will be going north.

Scout on the beach at Doughty Point.
Well be going around the corner in the upper right, left turn northbound.

Northbound up the Long Reach at almost total low tide required staying in the channel.  A quick look at the chart will indicate the massive mud flats that abound on either side.  While they were not exposed, there wasnt enough to float Scout.  I cut one corner a little close but a bit of scraping and a kicked up rudder later found us back in the channel.

This bad boy is called "Rights of Man"

At the top of Long Reach is the Gurnet Straight, its deep hole (90 feet!) and its bridge (10 feet tall) and the fact that once the current gets going, it produces standing waves.

Standing waves.  I did not know this at the time.  And I am glad I did not know, because my mind would have been in even more tumult had I known.  Timetables and the clock would have ruled the day.  So I arrived at Gurnet Straight, characterized by some cottages, an old lobstermans pile of traps, and the bridge.

It is deep here.

The Bridge

Down came the masts, and away I went, rowing to the bridge at Gurnet Straight.  The current was flowing against me, and its velocity was increasing as we rowed.  I could see it increasing.  Incredible.  I hugged the south side (right in the picture) and Scout was promptly spun around, pinned against the rocks.  I grabbed my trusty boathook and pushed us off and we were ejected from the maw of the angry bridge troll right back into the hole.  I noticed some eddies on the north side (left) and I rowed again like a madman, pulling my 21 boat with my bare hands and we made it through.  Wow.  I can only imagine the story if I found the legendary standing waves.  I either missed out on a nightmare or an adventure, or a little of both.  Once clear of the straight, masts up and it was a short leisurely sail to Indian Island off Indian Point, a small public day-use island.  Here, not wanting to fight the flood in the New Meadows River, I anchored in the small bay, watched horseshoe crabs (hordes of horseshoe crabs) set up an awning and promptly fell asleep.

Hot

New lunchtime snoozefest set up.
The dark green is warm. Just sayin.

Around 2pm I awoke in a fashion that can best be described as "slammed." I was hot, thirsty, tired, full of sleep momentum, confused, tired, fuzzy and probably damn irritable but since I was solo there was no one to be irritable too, which can be considered a waste of irritability.

The tide was full up and about to head out.  The awning came down (again, green is warm.  I need a new awning) and sails came out and Scout and I headed down the New Meadows River, southbound, on the east side of Sebascodegan Island.  Destination unknown.  With a strong breeze still blowing from the south Scout and I beat downriver, and though the tide was going out the current still had a bit of time before turning around.  We made so-so headway and I explored a few small islands in the stream.

Finally, I came to a mental point where I just looked down to the ocean, two miles or more to the southern tip of Sebascodegan, felt the chill of the ocean air, the blowing wind, the high hazy semi-overcast, and was weighted down with oppression tinged with a bit of loneliness.  This tacking back and forth in the cold in the wind with no appreciable progress south, alone, tired, and hungry made me want the day to be done.  I was frazzled out, and my judgement skills were beginning to dull.

Fortunately, there was an option! It is called The Basin, and I was fortuitously abeam its entrance.  With the current strongly against me and the wind now flukey in the entryway I fired up the Iron Mizzen for the first time this trip.  She started first pull.  Into The Basin we went where I found a small cove to throw down the hook.  There was a bald eagle nest on a nearby island, and I watched Mother Eagle feed the chicks, I watched the chicks fight Big-Bad-Osprey, and after a quick dinner (with Mother Eagle sitting in a tree nearby preening herself) I was out like a light.

Note: The Basins Nature Conservancys lands are day-use only, no camping (I was anchored in the water and slept aboard), but have nice walking trails and multi-use trails.  Its a beautiful place.  Please check it out, respect, and enjoy.  What a gem!

Island with Bald Eagle nest.  Give good distance and do not disturb!

Quiet, little wind, little current, no rocks.  One anchor down and done.  Safety and much needed sleep.

DAY THREE

Up and at em early to catch the tide out of The Basin.  It was time to finish this Sebascodegan Circumnavigation.  Scout and I motored out of The Basin back to the New Meadows River and set up sail.  This was some fine sailing down New Meadows River, when the wind is fresh and the light beckons one to join the living and squeeze the day! Possibilities feel limitless and every part of the body crackles with "Alive! Alive! We woke up for one more day! One more glorious wonderful day!"

It was a good antidote to yesterdays teeth gnashing in the afternoon.

DAY THREE 7am to 830am or so... quick and dirty

In one long close hauled tack, we almost made it to the tip of Sebascodegan... but didnt.  Two tacks later, and we rounded East Cundy Point inside Rogue Island, around West Cundy Point and up Ridley Cove back up to Bethel Point!

Cundys Harbor

East Cundys Point

Quintessential Maine

Bethel Point with slimy boat ramp.

SEBASCODEGAN CIRCUMNAVIGATION COMPLETE

TIP-OLAS:

Boat wise is up to you, but its a trip like this that reminds me of the value of small easily rowed boats with downwind sailing potential, like Clint Chases Drake. If youre facing a long upwind slog and the current is "meh" or worse, what a better option than to snug into the coast, find the eddies, and work windward?  With quiet waters and lots of north/south waterways that will channel the prevailing winds, boats like Drake, the Lillistones Phoenix III, and other comparable boats will shine here.  The Sea Pearl 21, of course, did admirably and its shallow draft made it perfect for some spots, but if my weather or timing was off, it probably would have meant a lot more Iron Mizzen usage.  Thoughts to ponder, my friends.

I strongly recommend the MITA guide for more boat access points, camping, and day use areas along the way (you should join this most worthy organization), your own good charts, and a tide-book-- or at least know the tides, and of course weather information.  A well timed journey with the right tides and winds could probably be undertaken in one long long June day-- but two is normal.  Mine was three, but it was a late departure on the first day and an early ending on the third.  Be ready for strong currents, boat traffic in the on-season, lobstering, and fog (I was spared).  Also, this is a relatively populated area, just north of Portland.  You will hear traffic, construction, dogs, people talking, jet traffic from Brunswick, and other noises of our common humanity of which we are all bound.  

You could also see bald eagle chicks fighting off Ospreys, seal with their pups, and wide black night skies.  Go git em, Tiger.

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