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PhinMak --
At the last second, two of Abbott's friends bugged out, so we headed out underhanded. 3 adults, 2 boys, and 3 ankle-biters make for an odd crew. Our first stop was to be Boothbay. We had a stiff breeze out of the W-NW pushing us along perfectly. With URI at the helm we had an easy go. Abbott started playing with the asymmetricals and almost had our rail under once or twice. In Boothbay we stayed at Tugboat and let everyone row around the dinghy before going to bed.
The next leg aimed for Pulpit Harbor on North Haven. This was another gorgeous day, but the wind was not as fresh as we needed to get there entirely under sail. Abbott and I were getting pretty good at jibing the asymmetricals with Andrew and Abbott Gilbane's help. The sock goes up on the windward side, the wheel goes over, then one old one is socked while the other is set, then the old sail comes down. It looks pretty good, actually. The trim is still a problem as we're not sure how to position the thing. Abbott likes it close to the hull while Phin wants it way out in front. I'd never been in Pulpit harbor before. It is pretty well protected but gets crowded. I spent some time exploring the area in the dinghy. When I got back to the ship, little PhinPhin lost the painter and Abbott Gilbane had to jump in after it. Didn't look very warm to me at all!
The fog came in that night and we had to make the next leg to Castine under power. The ratlin-boards still haven't been completed, so I sat up there while keeping an eye out for any bows cutting into the gray circle surrounding us. We figured out how to set the loud-hailer to give the regulation sounding of the foghorn. Not as loud as we want, but you can always grab the mic and start yelling! About halfway to Castine the fog lifted and cruised on in for a late lunch. Getting us all ashore in the limited capacity of the dinghy made for a few trips with two sets of rowers. On the second trip I broke one oar and we must have looked a bit silly out there as I almost fell into the bilge.
The next day was the feeder-to-the-feeder race. The course goes S around Islesboro then NW up to Camden. About 18-20 miles. We had a good blow the entire time out of the North. It was shy of a reef by 5 knots. Maybe sustained 13kt? The first leg was pretty nice as we set the asymmetrical and flew on a broad reach. The fit hit the shan when we neared the leeward mark for the close-hauled beat up to Camden. We had the full-sized golly up, which is cut well for the point of sail we were on, but it needed to be switched for the new sail Dad had recently created.
This sail has been dubbed "Phin's Phoresail" (Phors'l?) and it fits exactly between the two masts and foots to a block led to the end of the mainstaysail boom. The sail is then sheeted like the mainstaysail and fine-trimmed with the assorted halyards. The problem is that to tack the sail it has to be pulled around the main stay. This means a whole lot of line on the deck and exact timing when tightening the outhaul.
Hauling down the Golly, stuffing it away, and trying to set the Phoresail is not easy, especially when you only have 4 people on deck, 2 of them without a whole lot of experience. I had the two halyards led aft to where I could ease them at the same time as I eased the golly sheet. The two Abbotts and Andrew had to actually hang on the sail to get it to come down while using a come-along! Then when it was on the deck it kept trying to fill and fly away! We had such a hard time that we passed the mark by about a 1/4 mile. Phin left the helm to URI to help us get it under control.
Let me tell you, though, the Phoresail is the best thing yet for getting this full-keeled beast to perform upwind. With the flying jib, forestaysail, Phoresail, and main, we actually pointed better than an (8 meter? Star? I don't remember.) and passed her to leeward. Yee-HA!!!
That night was the dinner party at the Camden Yacht Club. Leslie came up with plans to take a carload of people home, leaving only myself, Dad, and Abbott onboard for tomorrow's race. After the brutal sail changes of the day's race, we had to beg Andrew and Abbott Gilbane to stay or we would be even more undermanned.
The day of the feeder race was clear, warm, and dead calm. The race was delayed, giving Dad and Abbott time to replace the flying jib for the 150% (?) Genoa. There was a whole lot of drifting going on and searching for a shady place on the deck. Once we actually started having forward momentum, the first mark was the rock that marked the same turn that we had to make into Camden. (The one we overshot by 1/4 mile.) Everyone else gave it a good berth, but not Dad. "So… Dad… there's a big rock up there… I'm ready to tack whenever you say." "Ok, thanks…" "… You're not going to tack, are you?" "Nope." "Great. I'll be hiding over here." We didn't hit it, somehow.
We set the asymmetrical after the rock and proceeded to overtake most of the smaller boats ahead of us. Pulpit Harbor passed by on the starboard side as we approached the northern tip of North Haven. There, Phin decided to take the inside route while most of the rest of the fleet took a wider route. Then the wind absolutely died. Something about the geography meant that the closer you got to the passage, the calmer it got, then immediately on the other side, it cranked up to 10 knots. It was like an invisible curtain. As folks drifted closer, all of a sudden they would violently jibe and suddenly be going near hull speed. There were a few boats (10? 20?) that made it there ahead of us, but Phin's inside route somehow got us there before most of the fleet and we left them in our wake. Many of them didn't get out of the passage until we had made it to the mouth of Deer Isle Thoroughfare. There we had quite a few boats blanketing us with their spinnakers as we ran for the far side. From there it was a simple task of keeping outside of a few bell buoys and into the anchorage at Brooklyn.
Looking astern we wondered at why a few of the other boats, including Brilliant, were going way out into the bay before heading up toward Brooklyn. Later we found out that the chart instructions and written instructions for the race were not the same and that we, along with a whole bunch of other boats, were disqualified for not rounding a mark. Brilliant only found out about it because a committee boat in the area called them up to warn them when they saw that they were not going to round the mark. MAN did that make us mad. We'd been gauging our performance against the older and much more experienced Brilliant for the past feeder race and now that we actually crossed the finish a full 30min before her, the win was taken away because of poor instructions. Argh.
The next day was Friday and a day off from racing entirely. We rafted up with brilliant for the night. Their crew came over to watch The Big Labowski. It was a big hit. This high was followed by a low. Ours was the set anchor. We had set enough scope to handle our mass, but not enough for the two similar-sized schooners. It dragged at 7am. Oof. Not our finest moment. A neighboring yacht hailed us and we were all woken from our bed by a holler out of Phin. Being out on deck with only pants @ 7am is not fun.
We spent the day relaxing. I went into the rigging to do more ratlin-boards only to find out why one had broken last winter. The weakness is at the edge of the board at the drilled-hole. Abbott Gilbane and Andrew challenged each other to go jump into the water from higher and higher up. Abbott's last jump had too much force and he split the board at the edge. I guess that they need to be seized there as well. This means 6 seizings per rung: 1) Directly on the wire for some grip. 2) Seize the board to the wire in the notch and through the hole. 3) Put a seizing on the last 2" of the board to keep it from splitting. I bet this is almost an hour's work per ratlin! And I've only done 1 complete set out of 4 in two years! The ones my brother tried to do last year have fallen apart because he tried to do them a different way. The twine can't last more than 3 years before it needs to be replaced anyway. Perhaps the wood should be given up in favor of a solid three-strand.
The following morning it was nice to wake up the normal way. Folks started showing up and we eventually ended up with almost 2 dozen people onboard. There were enough people to have a dedicated crew for the main, a crew for the golly/Phoresail, and a crew for the foredeck. I was leading the foredeck team, which meant the spinnakers and Genoa. I think we did pretty darn well. The major problem was a complete lack of wind for 75% of the course. With wind the race would be 4 hours (11-12 to 3-4) instead of the six or 7 it actually took. Aggravating. Dad pulled his "how close can I come to this rock" trick at the far end of the bay while other smaller boats watched from 200 feet further out.
At the southern mouth of the Reach (the last leg of the race) there was quite a bit of maneuvering in light airs as we tried to get out of the tide and up to the finish. LONG tacks brought everyone very close to the eastern shore. One port-tack boat failed to give way and in the ensuing scramble to get clear, the starboard-tack boat's helmsmen avoided the collision only to fall down the companionway with the tiller hard over. They did a complete circle and ended up ridding their bow up in the cockpit of the other boat with a "THUNK" that could be heard the width of the reach. There was quite a bit of yelling, too. I think that there was only minor stanchion and varnish damage due to the slow speeds.
Getting 24 people ashore with only one working dinghy wasn't easy. With every other boat honking their displeasure and the scarcity of launches, we eventually just started rowing them all ashore in 3 or 4. We had a quick dinner, then Andy left on his motorcycle and we followed in grandma's SUV: 2 Abbotts, myself, and Andrew.
The whole trip south was a discussion between Abbott and myself about the most efficient way to set the jibs/asymmetricals. I'll have to post a letter I sent to Phin with the logic, but Abbott and I thought that the forestaysail, flying jib, and asymmetricals combo would be more powerful at any point of sail compared to the 150% Genoa and asymmetricals. Compared to the flying jib and forestaysail, the Genoa has a shorter leading edge and backs the Phoresail. Plus, when the wind freshens there is no way to shorted sail except to douse it entirely. Then there's Abbott's whole issue about buying a set of "summer sails" at 9 or 10oz instead of the 22oz sails we're in now. With the current trade-wind sails, it's like wearing a suit of armor to a ballroom dance during a race on the coast of Maine. I can more easily agree with this point because I'm not going to be the one shelling out $40k for a new main, 2 staysails, and flying jib!
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