09-13-2010, 04:19 AM
Greetings all,
After my usual 54 mile jaunt on the bicycle Saturday morning, we stopped by the sailing pond to see who was out for the Labor Day weekend. I immediately recognized the only sailboat on the pond as a local racing Mutineer by its twin Jolly Rogers flying port and starboard from the stays. Normally this particular Mutineer is sailed by a pair of sisters, or one of the sisters and her father, usually as a tune-up for a race or to test some new equipment. Saturday, their younger brother had the boat out with two friends.
The wind was 17 mph gusting to 25 and blowing from the southwest. The boat was nose-in facing the shore to the north on the windward side of the windward dock between the second and third piers with sails down, so I assumed that they were done for the day. No, they had just floated the boat and were threading the mainsail up the mast. Ok. So I walked out onto the pier and offered a hand, cleated off the painter to keep the boat from sliding along the dock, and held the base of the starboard stay to steady the boat and fend the boom off the stay. I was thinking to myself that the boat should really be on the lee side of the pier facing south (up-wind 45° to the wind), or even better on the lee side of the next pier over where there would be nothing but open water downwind of the boat. But hey, what do I know? This guy is from an accomplished sailing family so he must know what he is doing. Besides, this particular Mutineer has a trolling motor rigged on the stern so dock maneuvers are easy.
After the main was up and the jib ready to go on its furler, it was time to back the boat out of the dock. But rather than use the trolling motor, the skipper decided that it would be enough to walk the boat to the end of the dock and sail from there. Using the end piling as a bollard for the painter to warp the Mutineer against the wind along the dock required a surprising amount of effort. I was disappointed that there was no stern line available as I could have held the stern at the lee corner of the end of the pier to forcibly pivot the Mutineer into the wind. Predictably, they were not quite ready, and as the boat cleared the end of the dock they muffed the turn, got stuck in stays, and were pushed on to the eastern-most pier, again nose-in to the north with the southwest wind over the port stern quarter. So we repeated the whole âwarping the boat backwards off the dockâ procedure only this time as the skipper sheeted home the main the boat turned sharply downwind back towards the shore. The Mutineer surged forwards along the dock and I watched in horror as three sets of hands tried to fend the boat off the dock. (Never, ever, use a hand as a fender â as you are just as likely to get it crushed or fingers severed as to do any good for the boat). All I could get out of my mouth was âright full rudderâ, which turned out to be enough as the boat gybed east along the cattails right at the shore line. Wow.
The jib unfurled and the Mutineer headed out into the pond on a broad reach while they sorted things out ⦠more or less. They gybed their way into the calmer waters that lay in the wind shadow of the island in the middle of the pond. At this point the wife noticed that the main sail did not look quite right whenever the wind was over the port rail. Sure enough, there was a topping lift that had not been slackened and nobody on board seemed to notice. As the boat came back out into open water, the sheets were not taut enough, and the un-reefed sails were fuller than called for in such strong winds, so the boat was heeling much more than necessary with the lee rail buried at times. At this point I said we have to stay around for a while and watch. This could be amusing.
As the Mutineer reached back towards our shore I noticed that everybody was sitting at the back of the cockpit and that she was dragging her transom and sailing bow high. I predicted that the next tack would fail due to excessive aft trim and sure enough they got stuck in irons and fell back onto the same course towards the cattails. After footing off for some more speed the second tack also failed. So we started taking bets as to whether or not they would keep trying to tack without changing the boat trim and end up in the cattails, or would they come to their senses and wear ship. Regrettably (depending on you point of view), they gybed just short of the shore, but they still managed to make it entertaining by sailing rather close to the rip rap that protects the dam to the east.
After about twenty minutes they managed to figure out the tacking and sail upwind of the docks. They must have decided that maybe sailing in such strong winds was not so relaxing after all and that heading in would be a good idea, because they altered course to aim directly at the western dock. They approached the piers while running before the wind under full sail. I kept expecting the main sail to come down, or for the boat to round up and then back gently down onto the pier with sails luffing, but neither happened. Instead, the skipper let go of the tiller and jumped up to run forward to the bow, presumably to fend the boat off the dock that they were squarely aimed for. The boat should have been running at hull speed (6 mph) before that 17 mph wind, and the skipper thinks he will be able to fend the boat off the dock with his body? Really? A Mutineer weighs 410 lbs empty, 500 lbs with a trolling motor, and maybe 935 lbs total with a crew or three. Not even Popeye will be able to muscle that to a stop. Fortunately, moving all 160 lbs of the skipperâs weight all the way forward trimmed the boat bow-down, so she headed up by herself just enough to miss the pier. However, she did slam full speed into the shoreline with the hull striking the shore and the rig fouling an overhanging tree just as the skipper jumped into the water with his arms wrapped around the bow in a pathetic attempt to slow the boat down. Heâs lucky she didnât just run him over in the shallow water. They were also lucky that the Mutineer has a swinging centerboard (not a dagger board), and a kick-up rudder.
The Mutineer did eventually weathervane the rest of the way around to slide off the shore and down to the pier stern first, so I had to fend the stern off the pier to keep the trolling motor and rudder intact. The sails came down and we walked the boat around to the other side of the pier into the western dock to await loading on her trailer. The skipper managed to back the trailer down into the water on the fourth attempt after running the trailer up onto the concrete pier abutment and almost decapitating the driverâs door on the same obstacle. He now had the tow vehicle so close to the abutment that he had to roll down the window to get out of the van. Again, I thought a stern line would be handy to straighten the boat while loading her on the trailer. Predictably the wind blew the hull enough to miss the bunks and the stern pivoted downwind off the side of the trailer. But, it was entertaining to watch the skipper wade chest deep into the water to straighten the hull onto the trailer.
After trailer and boat were hauled out of the water, the skipper noticed that the hull was not quite sitting on the trailerâs mid-line rollers. The culprit was the partially extended centerboard, which had hung up on the roller brackets and kept the boat from floating to the center of the trailer. The pendant for the centerboard was short and led nowhere, so it could not be tied off to keep the board in a fully retracted position. So the skipper sent his lightest crew into the boat to hold the board in the up position while the skipper lifted the stern (and crew) and slid her sideways onto the rollers. Fricking hilarious.
One of the crew was taking pictures, so I offered to take a picture of all three of them next to the boat on the trailer using their camera. I got low to the ground and shot upwards so that I could get the three of them, the boat, and the parts of the fouled willow tree branches that were still hanging from the rigging all in the same frame. Very artsy. I canât wait to hear from his sisters after they see what he was doing with their boat.
This story is a good illustration of the difference between thinking that you know how to do something because you have watched or helped others do it, and a true understanding how things work which then leads you to the correct actions. For instance, they knew they had to thread the main sail up the mast, but were oblivious to the fact that the extra windage of the untrimmed sail would now push the boat into the pier and towards the shore. They knew that tacking required some speed and the helm to be thrown over hard, but they did not understand the effects of fore-aft trim on steering a sailing dingy; that aft down trim bears away, and fore trim heads up, and that this happens because you are moving the hullâs lateral center of resistance relative to the sailâs center of effort. They knew that a boat should be fended off the pier whenever possible, but had no grasp of the physics of momentum and the potential magnitude of the forces involved (935lbs*6mph = 8228 ft lbs/sec, which means decelerating the boat in the last foot before it hits the dock requires and impulse of 8228 lbs for one second ⦠which should easily break any arms or legs used). They were Clueless and very Lucky.
I would be curious to see how many other boat handling errors you can spot in the above story.
Cheers
After my usual 54 mile jaunt on the bicycle Saturday morning, we stopped by the sailing pond to see who was out for the Labor Day weekend. I immediately recognized the only sailboat on the pond as a local racing Mutineer by its twin Jolly Rogers flying port and starboard from the stays. Normally this particular Mutineer is sailed by a pair of sisters, or one of the sisters and her father, usually as a tune-up for a race or to test some new equipment. Saturday, their younger brother had the boat out with two friends.
The wind was 17 mph gusting to 25 and blowing from the southwest. The boat was nose-in facing the shore to the north on the windward side of the windward dock between the second and third piers with sails down, so I assumed that they were done for the day. No, they had just floated the boat and were threading the mainsail up the mast. Ok. So I walked out onto the pier and offered a hand, cleated off the painter to keep the boat from sliding along the dock, and held the base of the starboard stay to steady the boat and fend the boom off the stay. I was thinking to myself that the boat should really be on the lee side of the pier facing south (up-wind 45° to the wind), or even better on the lee side of the next pier over where there would be nothing but open water downwind of the boat. But hey, what do I know? This guy is from an accomplished sailing family so he must know what he is doing. Besides, this particular Mutineer has a trolling motor rigged on the stern so dock maneuvers are easy.
After the main was up and the jib ready to go on its furler, it was time to back the boat out of the dock. But rather than use the trolling motor, the skipper decided that it would be enough to walk the boat to the end of the dock and sail from there. Using the end piling as a bollard for the painter to warp the Mutineer against the wind along the dock required a surprising amount of effort. I was disappointed that there was no stern line available as I could have held the stern at the lee corner of the end of the pier to forcibly pivot the Mutineer into the wind. Predictably, they were not quite ready, and as the boat cleared the end of the dock they muffed the turn, got stuck in stays, and were pushed on to the eastern-most pier, again nose-in to the north with the southwest wind over the port stern quarter. So we repeated the whole âwarping the boat backwards off the dockâ procedure only this time as the skipper sheeted home the main the boat turned sharply downwind back towards the shore. The Mutineer surged forwards along the dock and I watched in horror as three sets of hands tried to fend the boat off the dock. (Never, ever, use a hand as a fender â as you are just as likely to get it crushed or fingers severed as to do any good for the boat). All I could get out of my mouth was âright full rudderâ, which turned out to be enough as the boat gybed east along the cattails right at the shore line. Wow.
The jib unfurled and the Mutineer headed out into the pond on a broad reach while they sorted things out ⦠more or less. They gybed their way into the calmer waters that lay in the wind shadow of the island in the middle of the pond. At this point the wife noticed that the main sail did not look quite right whenever the wind was over the port rail. Sure enough, there was a topping lift that had not been slackened and nobody on board seemed to notice. As the boat came back out into open water, the sheets were not taut enough, and the un-reefed sails were fuller than called for in such strong winds, so the boat was heeling much more than necessary with the lee rail buried at times. At this point I said we have to stay around for a while and watch. This could be amusing.
As the Mutineer reached back towards our shore I noticed that everybody was sitting at the back of the cockpit and that she was dragging her transom and sailing bow high. I predicted that the next tack would fail due to excessive aft trim and sure enough they got stuck in irons and fell back onto the same course towards the cattails. After footing off for some more speed the second tack also failed. So we started taking bets as to whether or not they would keep trying to tack without changing the boat trim and end up in the cattails, or would they come to their senses and wear ship. Regrettably (depending on you point of view), they gybed just short of the shore, but they still managed to make it entertaining by sailing rather close to the rip rap that protects the dam to the east.
After about twenty minutes they managed to figure out the tacking and sail upwind of the docks. They must have decided that maybe sailing in such strong winds was not so relaxing after all and that heading in would be a good idea, because they altered course to aim directly at the western dock. They approached the piers while running before the wind under full sail. I kept expecting the main sail to come down, or for the boat to round up and then back gently down onto the pier with sails luffing, but neither happened. Instead, the skipper let go of the tiller and jumped up to run forward to the bow, presumably to fend the boat off the dock that they were squarely aimed for. The boat should have been running at hull speed (6 mph) before that 17 mph wind, and the skipper thinks he will be able to fend the boat off the dock with his body? Really? A Mutineer weighs 410 lbs empty, 500 lbs with a trolling motor, and maybe 935 lbs total with a crew or three. Not even Popeye will be able to muscle that to a stop. Fortunately, moving all 160 lbs of the skipperâs weight all the way forward trimmed the boat bow-down, so she headed up by herself just enough to miss the pier. However, she did slam full speed into the shoreline with the hull striking the shore and the rig fouling an overhanging tree just as the skipper jumped into the water with his arms wrapped around the bow in a pathetic attempt to slow the boat down. Heâs lucky she didnât just run him over in the shallow water. They were also lucky that the Mutineer has a swinging centerboard (not a dagger board), and a kick-up rudder.
The Mutineer did eventually weathervane the rest of the way around to slide off the shore and down to the pier stern first, so I had to fend the stern off the pier to keep the trolling motor and rudder intact. The sails came down and we walked the boat around to the other side of the pier into the western dock to await loading on her trailer. The skipper managed to back the trailer down into the water on the fourth attempt after running the trailer up onto the concrete pier abutment and almost decapitating the driverâs door on the same obstacle. He now had the tow vehicle so close to the abutment that he had to roll down the window to get out of the van. Again, I thought a stern line would be handy to straighten the boat while loading her on the trailer. Predictably the wind blew the hull enough to miss the bunks and the stern pivoted downwind off the side of the trailer. But, it was entertaining to watch the skipper wade chest deep into the water to straighten the hull onto the trailer.
After trailer and boat were hauled out of the water, the skipper noticed that the hull was not quite sitting on the trailerâs mid-line rollers. The culprit was the partially extended centerboard, which had hung up on the roller brackets and kept the boat from floating to the center of the trailer. The pendant for the centerboard was short and led nowhere, so it could not be tied off to keep the board in a fully retracted position. So the skipper sent his lightest crew into the boat to hold the board in the up position while the skipper lifted the stern (and crew) and slid her sideways onto the rollers. Fricking hilarious.
One of the crew was taking pictures, so I offered to take a picture of all three of them next to the boat on the trailer using their camera. I got low to the ground and shot upwards so that I could get the three of them, the boat, and the parts of the fouled willow tree branches that were still hanging from the rigging all in the same frame. Very artsy. I canât wait to hear from his sisters after they see what he was doing with their boat.
This story is a good illustration of the difference between thinking that you know how to do something because you have watched or helped others do it, and a true understanding how things work which then leads you to the correct actions. For instance, they knew they had to thread the main sail up the mast, but were oblivious to the fact that the extra windage of the untrimmed sail would now push the boat into the pier and towards the shore. They knew that tacking required some speed and the helm to be thrown over hard, but they did not understand the effects of fore-aft trim on steering a sailing dingy; that aft down trim bears away, and fore trim heads up, and that this happens because you are moving the hullâs lateral center of resistance relative to the sailâs center of effort. They knew that a boat should be fended off the pier whenever possible, but had no grasp of the physics of momentum and the potential magnitude of the forces involved (935lbs*6mph = 8228 ft lbs/sec, which means decelerating the boat in the last foot before it hits the dock requires and impulse of 8228 lbs for one second ⦠which should easily break any arms or legs used). They were Clueless and very Lucky.
I would be curious to see how many other boat handling errors you can spot in the above story.
Cheers