Agios Dimitrios, Mani 2006
For the origins and full set of images in this series, here
sailing single-handed
For love of a boat – Erbalunga 2005
On sailing a Folksong – Sheet to tiller self-steering
Catching up on my reading.
I see that Webb Chiles posted on sheet to tiller self-steering last month.
With the sails balanced, Blue Mistress will usually sail herself for long enough for me to go forward, do whatever is required and come aft again. In stronger winds I put a line round the tiller.
Of course, moving forward alters the balance and I cannot rely on her maintaining a course for too long.
So I will try this and let you know how I get on.
On sailing a Folksong – Mischief
Seb writes that he has bought Mischief.
Found her in a yard at Calstock on the River Tamar.
There is work to do on her but “her hull, decks and mast are sound; she has new standing rigging; a good set of sails etc.”
“Her interior is completely bare however (pure, as the previous owner put it), with no through hull fittings other than the engine water intake, but she does needs a lot of work done on her interior”
He is doing some immediate work on her “. . . gave her a good scrub; fitted a new fore hatch; refit the genoa tracks; tinkered with the engine . . .”
“I will be taking Mischief to Portsmouth from Plymouth as soon as she is sea worthy.”
Seb has plans for Mischief and originally contacted me about self-steering gear:
I posted on this and two useful links came back – thank you again for those. In the meantime, he (Seb) has noted:
“It seems that few Folksong’s have been fitted with mechanical self-steering gear, so I have been using the Contessa 26 as a source of information regarding the suitability of wind-vanes (given that they are both loosely based on the Folkboat). So far the Windpilot pacific light servo-pendulum gear, or the Hydra Autosteer trim-tab system, seem the most likely candidates, mainly due to their weight and cost.”
My choice would be the Pacific Light but that’s based on study and other people’s preferences – not practical experience.
Here is a clip of one in action following last year’s Jester Challenge.
“Crossing Lyme Bay after returning from 2 months away on Jester Challenge to Azores. Big following sea and wind around F5.”
I’m sorry, I don’t know who made the clip – perhaps somebody could let me know so I can thank them personally.
Any further comments would be welcome.
And Calstock looks the perfect place to find a Folksong!
From Steeple Point – the music of a gale
Following my last post, let’s up the tempo and orchestrate a gale:
First, change the season to winter;
Then darken the light with heavy cloud;
Now add two, perhaps three major storms over the Atlantic, each in a different area, each several days previously;
Let’s have an onshore gale blowing – (the cameraman can barely stand upright);
And the first ebb of a high spring tide, the full flood just beginning to flow out of the river;
Add backwash to develop an undertow – the water has to go somewhere once it reaches the beach;
With cross-currents from a tide now heading down the coast;
And sound – the wind hammering in ears, the sea thundering and crashing, the snatched cry of seagulls.
Now we have music – a climactic moment in a symphony without a beginning or an end, composed by Nature and performed by The Elements.
.
But how to describe it for those who sail in small boats.
There is probably a scientific explanation, with each molecule of water predicted to a particular position with regard to every other molecule and the surrounding conditions.
Perhaps there is, but it is far too confusing, too complex for we mere mortals, so we rely on words.
And finding words is an art.
These days, we might try “Awesome“, but it is short-hand and doesn’t really express a storm properly.
Some have described storms with first-hand reportage . . .
“The Spray neared Cap Pillar rapidly and, nothing loath, plunged into the Pacific Ocean at once, taking her first bath of it in the gathering storm. There was no turning back even had I wished to do so. for the land was now shut out by the darkness of light. The wind freshened and I took in a third reef. The sea was confused and treacherous. In such a time as this the old fisherman prayed, “Remember, Lord, my ship is small and thy sea is so wide.” Joshua Slocum
Some with extreme drama . . .
“Poor naked wretches, where so’er are you / That hide the pelting of this pitiless storm.” William Shakespeare (King Lear).
Some with more rhythm . . .
“And large blue seas each other chased, / Cascading over down the waist. / At every pitch he held his breath; / As if he saw the face of death. / “She’s pitched away a topmast, smash!” / All hands to clear away the wreck, / Were in an instant turned on deck; / From hammock starting out alert, / Up flew each seaman in his shirt! / And up the straining shrouds they swarm, / Growling and swearing at the storm. / The wreck secured or cut away, / She snug beneath a trysail lay.” Capt J. Mitford RN, from Adventures of Johnny Newsome.
Of course, there are always those who see it in an entirely different way . . .
“At night came on a hurricane, the sea was mountains rolling / As Barney Buntline chewed his quid and spake to Billy Bowline: / “A strong nor’wester’s blowing, Bill, can’t ye hear it roar now? / Lor’ love me how I pities them unhappy folks ashore now. / As comfortably you and I upon the deck are lying, / Lord knows what tiles and chimney pots about their ears are flying.” Dibdin
~~~
And if poetry doesn’t work for you, then Adlard Coles’ “Heavy Weather Sailing” , now in its 30th edition, is the definitive work.
With acknowledgement to John Irving for the poetry, quoted by him in a Yachtsman’s Week-end Book, 1938.
From Steeple Point – a hatful of wind
The wind increases, the foam begins to streak, the Atlantic swell presses home.
Force 7: “In which a well-conditioned man-o’-war could just carry topsails, jib, etc in chase. And smacks remain in harbour, or, if at sea, lie to. And ashore, whole trees are in motion.” (Beaufort)
The North Cornwall coast, from Millook Haven
The images were taken in March and it’s not the “snowing gale” mentioned below but a fresh south easterly, blowing off this west-facing shore, the southern edge of a high pressure area, a low somewhere to the south, the wind funnelling between the two.
~~~
But how to describe weather?
Beaufort’s original description of Force 7 is one way – (and the accepted one when first introduced – and now modified), but the poets can be more vivid.
For example, Stevenson’s few words on a gale bring life to the scene. I particularly like the “flash of sun” and “the passion of the gale”.
“It blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year;
The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.
The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro,
A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.
Autumn leaves and rain,
The passion of the gale.”
– It Blows A Snowing Gale, by Robert Louis Stevenson
~~~
Previous posts on this – waves, waves (cont), a question of scale.
From Steeple Point – a question of scale
Talking of tides and waves (here and here):
The ebb tide is running fast leaving wakes trailing from both the buoy and the fixed mark.
The buoy is floating, attached only by its anchor line. The water is passing more or less unimpeded below it, leaving a clean wake; whereas the fixed mark totally disrupts the flow, resulting in very confused water downtide.
Between the two, you can see the wake from another buoy – dying down but still confusing both of the above wakes.
A short while later, the tide has built up enough to submerge the buoy.
In the foreground are eddies from the uneven bottom, causing smooth upwellings of water.
Should we be interested in this?
Aren’t the two images merely pictures of a spring tide ebbing?
Well, it’s a matter of scale. If we want to know more about the sea, this is a good place to be.
Now we move on.
Below is a an image of Ham Stone, between Bolt Head and Bolt Tail on the South Devon Coast.
The effect of the rock on the tide can clearly be seen. Although the tide is not running as fast as in the images above, the water will be confused here especially at the border with the main flow. However, for a small boat, there will be temporary shelter from the main flow of the tide.
In fact, this boat is fishing downtide of a wreck on the sea floor, the disturbing currents attracting food for the fish, the fish attracting the fishermen.
Ham Stone, South Devon
Compare this with another phenomenon – this time rocks interrupting the swell.
These are waves in motion over the surface of the sea rather than the sea itself being in motion.
Instead of causing the waves to spread outwards, the drag effect of the rocks causes them to slow down and swing inwards, so that the sea is confused on what might have been the sheltered side.
Even if the water was deep enough for a small boat, there would be no shelter from the swell here.
Rocks between St Ives and Zennor, Cornwall
In practice, what happens around the coast depends on the swell, the tide and the size of the various obstructions, whether above the surface of the sea or on the seabed – (not to mention the weather).
So, let’s up the scale again.
The fishing boat on the right has chosen to go between the headland and Godrevy Light, avoiding the long haul out round the off-lying reefs.
It’s about one hour after low water and the tide is running against him – the direction of the tidal stream can be seen to the right of the island
Godrevy Light, Cornwall
It’s running faster between the island and the mainland than further out to sea – but nowhere near fast enough to hold him up.
Although, as you can see, he is having to work at it.
At the western end, the swell is swinging round the end of the island against him, just as in the image of the rocks near Zennor.
He is keeping well over to the right to minimise the effects.
And when he leaves the local effect of the island he makes appreciably faster progress towards his home port.
It’s a matter of scale.
The sea is doing its thing on a vast scale – slopping around the planet under the firm but distant control of the moon and the sun and the vagaries of the weather.
For the most part, we see it locally – we watch it, we study it, often we eulogise it (as you will see in the next two posts), but in the end we have no control over it.
The fisherman chose his time according to the tide and the weather.
He could not choose the tide or the weather to suit his time.
On sailing a Folksong: an engine anode
I’m not an engine man, preferring to sail and enjoy the vagaries of wind and sea to the precision of metal parts and fuel consumption.
On the other hand, I know the relief of the engine starting first time and the expectation of being back on the mooring in time for tea.
I look on it as a useful friend which will get me out of trouble if I really need it.
I keep it clean, can change the oil and oil filter, and know more or less what this part or that part does – but have no overall grasp of it. In fact, I consider it a bit of a challenge.
So, realising that it was time for a proper service, I got the engineer from the Yanmar dealer in and watched him work. (It’s a Yanmar GM10)
A pleasure to see a job done well.
As you would expect – he worked methodically, step-by-step through the process.
And I recognised most of what he was doing, even if some of the bits were not quite where I thought they were.
But when he unbolted the alternator and moved it out the way, I knew I had done the right thing.
What was behind there? Well, the anode of course.
OK . . . . . so I didn’t know there was an anode in the engine. Makes perfect sense. Of course there is. Different metals sitting together in a wet environment.
This is what it looked like.
All you need to know is that a new one is over twice the size of this and a rather elegant dome shape.
I guess it hadn’t been changed for a long time – certainly in the time I have owned the boat.
Anyway, I’ve learned the lesson – and won’t forget it.
On sailing a Folksong – Self-steering gear
A comment this evening:
“I have just bought a Folksong and plan to do some extended single-handed voyages in her. I was wondering if you know of any folksong’s that have had self-steering gear installed on them, and if so which system / model has been used with success.”
Lo Shu
Sho Fu is the only Folksong I know of to carry self-steering gear – and this hazy image is the only one I have and I know nothing else about her.
Looking at her again, I notice the spray hood is similar to a design I have in mind. I might use this one.
I use a Raymarine ST1000+ for shorter trips, but would not want to undertake a longer voyage with this system alone.
When I bought Blue Mistress I spent some time researching self-steering gear with the intention of fitting it fairly quickly. As happens, priorities changed and deadlines came and went and I still haven’t done it.
However, I did think that a system like the Windpilot Pacific Light might work. (To see one fitted to the stern of a Folkboat, click here and here).
Nick Jaffe made it to Australia in his Contessa 26, Constellation, with this set up.
Here is Blue Mistress crying out for self-steering gear – and an owner with the means to go a lot further than he has so far.
If you have strong thoughts on this, let me know.
From Steeple Point – waves (cont.)
The previous afternoon the weather was similar. . .
a light swell is coming off the Atlantic.
Waves are in motion, just visible, moving towards us across the surface of the water – at speed.
The actual water they pass through is barely changing position, describing small, slow, circular, vertical orbits.
Finally, almost at the last moment, a small section of a wave is cut off by the rocks- guided into a gully.
Forced into the tight space, it loses speed as it drags against the sides. But it retains its energy.
Thus gaining height, it trips over itself, breaking on some underwater obstruction.
And now it is the water itself – (at a ton per cubic metre), that is surfing down the face of the wave, accelerating towards us.
In speeding up, it quickly reaches its end, dashing itself with abandon on the Breakwater – while, a few seconds later, the rest of the wave, still in the freedom of comparatively open water only a few feet away, rolls sedately up the stones.
And here, it is lifted by the swell above the surrounding sea, only to sluice downhill across the rocks, seeking balance with the main body of water.
Beyond Steeple Point 
