A trip to the Ionian - part 3 (of 4)

Ligia turned out to be the sort of place you could end your days in. The taverna was almost within shouting distance of the moorings and the winding road past it took one up to the village itself about a mile away. There were a few shops, villas and a lovely church which we explored the next day. The evening before though, was spent at the taverna who soundly ticked off Jono for not warning of our arrival. They were very friendly and apologetic that the menu was limited but there was enough for us. They insisted on giving us small glasses of free Ouzo with every lager which I have since been told by a cynical friend, is in order to make you a little thirstier so you buy more drinks. I’m not so sure; I like to think they are just generous. On arrival though, the GPS proved its worth again. There was only one water tap working, quite a way from the moorings and the lead crew wanted to know if the brand new 50 metre hose they had just bought would reach the boats. So I set my filling cap position on the boat as a MOB waypoint and walked up to the tap with the handheld GPS. It read 66 metres to the waypoint so we were pretty sure it wasn’t worth unrolling the new hose!
Next day we set off after breakfast for the much larger port of Parga, about a two hour sail up the coast. Parga is in two parts for the flotilla sailor, the main town and the mooring area which is a mile or so to the west of the town on a sandy beach. The beach shelves very deeply so the trick is to drop the kedge anchor a few boat lengths out, then motor slowly in until the keel hits the almost vertical shelf wall. At this point there is about 6 feet of shallow water between the bows and the shoreline. The skipper takes your bow anchor and carries it onto the sand, digs a hole and buries it for you. A quick touch in reverse on the anchor winch followed by a good pull on the kedge ensures the boat is pulled up tight for the night.
It was not a good trip. We were OK but the swell, which was about eight feet in places, caused our boat to roll badly, slam off the top off the waves and take some big blue waves over the front. Again we had to put up with this for a couple of hours, still bruised from the first day, it made for an uncomfortable journey. Sophie, our hostess, had been sick again so she laid down lengthwise on the cockpit seat in the lead boat. One particularly nasty swell rolled the boat and she fell off the seat, hitting her head on the compass binnacle. She was clinically uninjured but had a bump and a bruise. This, however, only matched brother’s bruise, his he had collected when the top-loading fridge door had fallen down on him while he was searching for a beer. Most boats have a catch to hold the door but Kerkeria didn’t, as Mark found out.
As we arrived at Parga the heavens opened, we moored in something of a thunderstorm but fortunately the rain was warm. I goofed the mooring, the approach is between the sandy beach and a row of fishing boats moored opposite. I’m normally quite good with moorings but the storm blew me in a bit faster than expected, so I went past my turning point to the shore. As I reversed the prop walk kicked the stern neatly sideways and the rudder fouled a mooring line from one of the fishing boats. I spotted it about to happen and slammed the throttle into neutral to avoid getting a prop-wrap. We needed help so I called Jono in the dinghy who came over to help. Fortunately by this time the rudder pushed back onto the mooring line which tightened up, and as the boat slowed, pushed us forwards again, dropping neatly off the rudder as the tension came off. I breathed a sigh of relief and could have motored in from that point, but Jono simply pushed the bow round using his rubber dinghy as a dodgem car. We slid neatly into our mooring spot by which time the ever ready Jono was out of the dinghy, pulling our anchor with one arm while talking to another yacht with the other on the VHF. It is traditional for the crew to make a note of any goofs and “mention” them on the last night together with a little presentation. From that moment on, I was not looking forward to the last meal.
The mooring is a little isolated at Parga and there have been many reports of thefts from Yachts there over the years, the only place in the whole area that I have heard of any trouble. Mark and I took a cheap stick-on burglar alarm for the washboards so we could sleep in peace, safe in the knowledge that we would be woken if those boards were lifted out. At Parga there are only two ways to get from the moorings to the town. One is to walk along a track which is a good couple of miles and mostly unlit, or to take the water taxi. The taxi is a big old boat called Betty, and the service is run by a slightly grumpy Greek called Yannis who seems to get more grumpy every time I see him. I understand he got married a couple of years ago, despite his obvious advancing years, and it didn’t go too well. No wonder he is grumpy. For all that though, he’s a skilled helmsman, holding the big Betty ( he inherited her from his father who previously ran the service ) close to the stern of the moored yachts for his guests to climb over the prow and into the taxi. It takes about 15 minutes to cross the bay, past the large rocky outcrops and round to the town moorings. For this Yannis will charge you the princely sum of 2 Euros each way and I find it worth every penny. This time the big boat rolled a little alarmingly due to the steep seas which had not yet abated, the motion being different to that of the keelboats which we had become used to. Arriving safely though, we climbed ashore to the jetty and walked in convoy to Castellos, allegedly the best and most expensive restaurant in Parga. Castellos has a glass floor over the wine cellar some 12 feet below and, try as I might, I just couldn’t walk over it. Funnily enough though, thinking back, I must have walked over it on the way out after a few beers without even noticing. It was an excellent meal, not too expensive, and lovely surroundings. Mark and Sophie had recovered enough from their bruises to play their full part in reducing the contents of the wine cellar, so a good time was had by all. The trip back on Betty was magical, if a little damp. I managed to sit in the prow on some carpet which had collected a fair bit of the Med earlier in the evening. No matter, spare jeans were on the boat, I had, as usual, taken far too many clothes. The Pargians have seen fit to light up the whole of their city which includes a castle on the hill and the white churches which sit on the little rocky green islands just off shore. The view alone makes at least one trip to Parga a must do, although I normally try to avoid large towns like this. Yannis managed his trick of holding Betty just off the moored yachts, assisted by my small but powerful laser torch, and with his cries of “Quickly quickly, mind fingers, quickly, push push!” we moved rapidly from one yacht to the next. He had one more trip to do to pick up the 11.30 crowd before he could retire to his own bed so he was anxious to be moving on.
I was woken about 0100 hours by the sound of squeaky trainers walking around our deck and I fancied I could hear someone trying the deck hatches which of course were secured. In some places when rafted others do walk across your decks but here there is no reason to do so, unless it was the skipper checking the lines but again there seemed little need for this. I do think Parga has a resident thief but I saw no need to tackle him, he soon left when he got nowhere, and there were no reports of thefts next day, everyone had been warned both by me and the pilot book! Next morning brother pointed out how easy summer thievery could be – open hatch windows are right next to the tops of the shelves inside the cabins and it is on these shelves that one naturally puts wallets, cameras, mobile phones, passports and other valuables. It would have been the work of a moment to push an unsecured window open, put a hand inside and nip off with whatever you could grab. By the time the sleepy sailor had crawled from the berth, opened the washboards and started a chase, the thief would be long gone. Last year one of the flotilla got up early to find his wallet in the cockpit. He picked it up thinking he must have dropped it after too many beers the night before, but discovered cash and cards all missing. They had clearly thrown the wallet after removing the cash, either considerately or by luck, it fell in the cockpit. Several others had lost stuff that night too.
After the perils of Parga we had a pleasant day sailing up to Sivota. Well, it’s actually called the Sivota Islands, the port being officially called Mourtos after a huge battle left many dead there some years or centuries ago. The Greeks are not too keen on having a harbour called “Death” so it’s pretty much universally known as Sivota, which means “Safe Harbour”. There are a few Sivotas in Greece so it pays to ensure you head for the right one. This one left me fairly cold the first time I visited it two years ago, the harbour wall was scruffy, with a long walk round to the town which itself was largely closed and with a huge amount of building going on. One saving grace was that the supermarket was not only cheap but had a wonderful parrot called Coco, so I hoped I may see him again. The quayside was OK last time though, there were several tavernas along the front, all friendly with good food and reasonably priced so I hoped to make the most of a bad job. However, I was in for a very pleasant shock. The building works had been completed, the town had opened for business and we got a mooring right in front of my favourite taverna. The back street shops and restaurants, previously closed, were now thriving and open, on the south side flats and a marina had been completed with a pretty green and walkways by the quayside. A chandlers completed the picture, although I didn’t visit after hearing that you could buy shotguns and ammunition straight off the shelf there too. Scary.
Mark and I found a great little jewellers where we spent some time picking up presents for our wives, his daughters and my mother in law. Honest. I decided to let brother choose the restaurant for the night and he chose a “Meditteraneo” in the back streets on the grounds that it must be good because it was busy. He wasn’t deterred when I pointed out that MacDonald’s is usually busy too, but I wouldn’t want to eat there. It turned out that he was right though. The food was excellent and plentiful, in an Italian style. He had a huge Pizza while I had some spaghetti with prawns – my usual dish. We wandered back to the quayside and found some of our flotilla sitting by the quay, knocking back the lagers so of course we had to join them.
Tony Bennett

A trip to the Ionian - part 2 (of 4)

Next morning the weather was back to proper Med stuff. Heat, sun and a gentle breeze greeted us as we opened the hatchway to walk to Aggies for breakfast. Aggies taverna is at the far end of the harbour to the west side and is difficult to find, more or less having to pass through another taverna in order to get to it. It was clean, modern and well laid out with tidy tables and cloth napkins on the waterside decking. They did us a lovely breakfast, I had fresh bread with various jams and marmalades, some of the others had a full cooked breakfast. A short skipper’s briefing followed, that day we were to go to the lovely harbour of Mongonisi at the southern end of Paxos island, only about 10 miles away. With a good weather forecast we could mess about offshore for as long as we wished. Two years ago my wife and I saw dolphins off this coastline so hopes were high. We motored out of Lakka and set sail for the south, on a starboard tack as the wind was still southerly. This took us offshore by a few miles and we had to watch out for a large reef which is midway between Paxos and the port of Parga on the mainland. I like to give these obstructions a very wide berth as although the GPS is accurate to within a few feet, the charts may be up to a mile out in some places. We sailed under full main and Genoa, both are roller reefing with the main furling inside the mast, in a force three for a couple of hours until we had the tiny harbour of Longos on our starboard side at 90º. We could clearly see the tall chimney of the disused soap factory in Longos so tacked through to head slightly to the north of the chimney aiming for the north side of the harbour entrance. This we did because there is a visible reef right in the middle of the fairway centre approach to Longos, and I wanted to go in there for lunch. After another hour or so of very pleasant sailing we entered the north side of the harbour without seeing the reef. We anchored in 6 metres of water some 100 yards offshore near the soap factory. I used to think this disused building was an eyesore, but it has the most beautiful statue of a goddess over the arched entrance to the factory and over the years I have kind of got used to the place. Longos would not be the same to me now without its old factory. We let out about 20 metres of chain and I reversed to make sure the anchor was well in. I set the alarm on the GPS and took a careful transit on the harbour entrance light pole and the last window of the white building opposite. We were toying with the idea of going ashore in the dinghy for lunch so we wanted to make sure Kerkeira was secure. After 20 minutes she hadn’t moved and I was happy to go, which meant blowing up the dinghy. We were still suffering a bit from the day before and we finally decided to have olives, bread, cheese and beer aboard instead, enjoy the view then set off for an early mooring up at Mongonisi. About 20 minutes into the meal, I noticed the soap factory appeared a little smaller than it had been previously, and checking around it was obvious we were dragging our anchor! In fact the echo registered 20 metres at this point so I don’t suppose the anchor was even on the bottom. We quickly got it in ( the 331 and 361’s have electric winches ) and motored forwards to our original spot and re-dropped anchor. This time we let out a bit more chain and it held throughout the 90 minutes we stayed after that. We were so glad we hadn’t gone ashore in the dinghy because the boat would probably have piled up on the reef just off the harbour mouth. If we had noticed it drifting we wouldn’t have caught it in the dinghy, our only hope would have been a rapid hire of one of the many small day boats by the soap factory. Although not religious we sent a silent prayer of thanks and wondered how we could have made such a mistake. We were so shaken we had to open another beer!
Coming out of Longos we passed to the other side of the reef, going between it and some large rocks just off shore. This was where one of our flotilla two years ago had misunderstood the instruction to pass between the reef and the rocks, and had tried to pass between the rocks and the shore instead. He piled up aground and the flotilla rib had to rush out. They towed him off and snorkelled underneath, coming back up to report no damage. A lucky escape.
We had a pleasant and easy sail down the coast of Paxos to Mongonisi. This cute little place consists of a concrete jetty and a taverna at the end of the harbour. A sandy beach in front of the harbour completes the picture. Here, on a warm evening and if there are enough customers, the staff of the family run taverna will put on a display of Greek dancing. Tonight though, we had our beach party on the sand. Attendance is not obligatory, but if you want to go everyone chips in a fiver and Sophie the Hostie makes up a wicked punch and provides various nibbles for all to tuck in. Some flotilla beach parties have a theme, like Hawaiian, or Tarts and Vicars. Not easy when there are shops to access for props but the improvisation can be amazing. This time there was no theme and we all relaxed a bit more, watching people swim in the bay, especially the young ladies who decided to go topless. I declined a swim as it was here that I got stung by a jellyfish the year before, a truly shocking experience. One minute I was happily swimming towards the beach, the next it felt like someone had a laid an electrified red hot poker across my shoulder. The power of the tentacles was such that I was flipped over almost onto my back. I knew what it was straight away and carefully checked that all limbs were working before striking out for the beach again, expecting at any minute to receive another sting. I made it back without incident and we put some anti-histamine cream on the area. Although I don’t react badly to this sort of thing, I still had a red weal across my upper arm that took a few weeks to disappear completely. I warned the other yachts but they didn’t feel inclined to take much notice and several others were stung too. Jellyfish are unusual in this part of the Med though, and none were to be seen this year.
Later, much later, we had a meal at the taverna, but sadly there weren’t enough of us for the family to put on a show of Greek dancing this time. Skipper Jono gave the briefing that evening in order to allow an early departure for those of us who wanted to visit Emerald Bay on Anti-Paxos Island. Anti-Paxos is just south of Paxos and has no harbours with moorings. Overnight anchoring is not permitted in the bays for reasons of conservation and, I guess, a lack of shelter.

Next day we set off in perfect weather conditions at about 0800. We motored the short distance to Emerald Bay and anchored without incident in about 8 metres of crystal clear blue water. It’s not called Emerald Bay for nothing; the colour of the water is stunning. We had breakfast and brother was brave enough for a swim, the water was reported as cold so I declined. A taverna has now been built just beyond the beach, on both of the two bays, which to my mind completely spoils the wild nature of them. After a little while at anchor some of the rest of our flotilla joined us. We relaxed for a couple of hours and then set off for Ligia, a small harbour again with only one taverna, on the mainland. It was a trip of some 15 miles, all done on one tack and with no reefs to watch out for. However, Ligia has a curious entrance and a small harbour, so few yachts and even fewer flotillas visit. In fact, the flotilla skipper is supposed to ring ahead to let the taverna know they are coming in order that supplies may be bought in especially. The entrance is through some rocks to the south. The obvious passage is between the two larger rocks but this results in a grounding, the safe path is to the left of the left hand rock when a sharp left turn takes you into the harbour mouth. Going out was equally odd, turning right close to the harbour wall through the narrow passage between the wall and the left hand rock, which of course is now on your right. Just as we arrived a few hundred yards outside the harbour the GPS lost all satellite reception. I had never seen this happen at sea before. It lasted only a minute or so and then came back on before dropping out again twice more. There was no obvious cause, I looked beyond the harbour for radio masts and the like but there appeared to be nothing. It has to remain a mystery, it didn’t happen again for the rest of the trip.
Tony Bennett

New York Alacrity 19 Sold

Hi. My Alacrity 19, which I posted here for sale, has been sold to Dr. Neil Lipke, of Milan, New York. Neil has plenty of sailing experience in Sheepshead Bay, in Brooklyn. His email is NeilLipke@hotmail.com. Please welcome Neil to the Twin-Keeler family.

George Bollenbacher

A trip to the Ionian - part 1 (of 4)

Twin-Keeler sailor Tony Bennett sent us this article for the old PDF-issue. As he already did make the effort I thought it would be a pity to be wasted so I publish it here, although the sail itself did not take place onboard a twin-keeler.

The engines of the Monarch 757 roared as the reverse thrust slowed the plane landing at the short airstrip of Preveza on a sunny May morning earlier this year. My brother and I had arrived in Greece for our second sailing trip in the Ionian Sea with Sailing Holidays Ltd. This company is run by a bunch of crazy Kiwis led by one Barrie Nielson who is no relation to the company of the same name. Their mission in life is to ensure that one has the best time possible while on holiday with their company and some great sailing to boot. This they achieve with a combination of well maintained boats, friendly staff and value for money prices. We had booked a Beneteau 331 for two of us for a week for less than 1000 pounds all in, but fate intervened in our favour. A few days before we were due to leave the UK the company telephoned us and asked if we would mind taking a slightly larger yacht as they wanted ours for a less experienced couple who needed a smaller boat. Needless to say we didn’t mind! Our new boat was to be the Beneteau 361, some three feet longer than a 331 and a yacht I had always wanted to try as it had a much larger heads than the 331, and was said to sail better.
They do have some smaller boats, Jaguar 27’s, which were made in twin keeler format but all of Barrie’s are fin keels. The Jags are over 30 years old but allow the cheapest way of experiencing a sailing holiday in the Med. In spring and autumn a week can be had for two for £790 which includes flights, diesel, transfers and the services of the lead crew. There’s a damage waiver of about 50 quid and a fuel supplement of £35 each and that’s it.
We had an hour’s ride in a luxury coach to Platerias on the west coast of the Greek mainland where Sailing Holidays have their northern base. Platerias is a typical small Greek seaside village, not particularly pretty nor particularly busy, but benefits from a well sheltered and large harbour where our flotilla awaited its guests. The staff were on hand at the airport and again at the sailing base to help with luggage and to guide us to our boat. It is quite a long walk from the coach drop off point to the yachts and so the luggage was ferried round by a minivan. After a briefing on the yacht and its equipment, we walked back to the village for essential supplies such as Greek olives, cheese & beer. It is best only to drink bottled water which may be purchased frozen and helps keep the fridge cool when under sail. Once the boat was ready to go we were able to meet the flotilla crew and relax in a waterside taverna. The crew comprises a skipper, Jono, an engineer, Shannon, and a hostess, Sophie. It’s the skipper’s job to get you safely from place to place, the engineer’s job to look after the boats and the hostess’s job to point you in the direction of the best showers, cash machines and tavernas. Not that we needed a shower as the one on the boat was of such a reasonable size to save frequent visits to the shore facilities.
One of my favourite foods is Mediterranean prawns and so I tucked into a dish of these on the first night while Mark, my brother, had stuffed tomatoes; both dishes were washed down with substantial quantities of lager. Beers generally available are Heineken which is palatable, Amstel, which is bearable, and Mythos which tends to give me a headache. Needless to say after the travelling and the beer we both slept well that night. The next morning dawned bright and cheerful allowing us to get to know the other crews over breakfast. It turned out to be a small flotilla of only five boats; the more normal size is 10-12 yachts, so we quickly got to know each other. Skipper Jono’s plan was to take the yachts north up the west coast of Greece to a small port known for its fish dishes called Sayidiah, some 10 miles away. However a strong wind was forecast for that evening from the south of force six or more and it seemed safer to take the longer trip to Paxos Island 15 miles to the south west. Paxos is a small island with only four ports all of which are quite delightful, I was not disappointed to be going there. Brother Mark had not been to this part of the Ionian before and I was looking forward to showing him the best spots. The skipper asked us to motor across the open sea and to arrive no later than 4.00 in order to avoid the strong winds. We set off about 1030 under motor as instructed although we noticed one or two other yachts with sails, making the best of the stiff breeze that had already blown up. By midday the wind was already a good force six and the odd wave was breaking over the bows from the four foot swell that had already started to make the boat roll uncomfortably. It certainly didn’t look as if things were going to get any easier so we increased our speed to some 2 ½ thousand RPM allowing us to make around five knots. The Garmin GPS gave an estimated arrival time of about 4 to 5 o’clock so we expected a few hours of discomfort. An hour later the winds were stronger still and the seas had risen to some 6 to 8 feet at which point brother decided a lifejacket would be a good idea. I had the wheel to hang on to and felt that it would be more dangerous to try to struggle into a lifejacket at this point, although I was getting pretty wet. Although we could cope with things as they were, we were concerned that the wind and sea may build further before we could make the sheltered port of Lakka on the north Coast of Paxos. It had certainly got up before it had been forecast, but forecasts are notoriously unreliable in the Ionian! We had just about come to terms with this when the engine overheated. At this point we were approximately 4 miles from the south coast of Corfu which gave us plenty of sea room to work out a solution. We shut the engine down and brother got a beer out while I made a radio call to the lead boat to speak to Shannon the engineer. His advice was to run the engine at a maximum of 2000 RPM and then it shouldn’t overheat. Sure enough he was right. At this point to my surprise brother Mark suggested putting some sail, he is not normally too keen on sailing in heavy weather but I agreed it would steady the boat and so we put about half the Genoa out. With the motor and the Genoa together we made good speed to Lakka, arriving wet and bruised at about 5 pm. I must say, this was about the worst weather I have experienced in four trips to the North and South Ionian, despite a storm on my first visit, and it was quite unusual. The sea between Corfu and the mainland often has a fair bit of swell, but this was way beyond the norm. The southern Ionian experiences little swell and has shorter times between ports, but it’s less fun in my opinion! The boat coped very well though, despite the engine she never gave us cause for real concern, always giving the impression that she could cope better than we could. The boat was called Kerkiera which is the Greek name for the island of Corfu. Most of Barrie’s boats are named after something Greek; he has over 150 yachts now though, so he ran out of gods and goddesses fairly early on.
Lakka is a delightful and pretty small town with a harbour well sheltered especially from the southern winds as it opens to the north. It is full of tavernas, jewellery and souvenir shops, populated by friendly people who pretty much all speak reasonable English. A walk from the harbour takes one up the hill to a taverna with a view over the bay and provides a great photo opportunity. We were the first to arrive, the benefits of Genoa and motor together with the gps meant that we found the entrance more easily than some of the others who had been blown a bit off course. Our lead boat had yet to arrive having been delayed sorting out another engine failure. We were assisted into our berth by another Sailing Holidays flotilla skipper who had sensibly moored up earlier. It had not been a great day. Our hostess had been sick, and so had the wife of the skipper who got the smaller boat that we should have had originally. In addition she had been thrown off her feet by a violent wave, striking her nose on a guard rail causing it to bleed. Eventually everyone arrived safely, mooring in the traditional Med style of dropping a bow anchor some three boat lengths away from the quay, reversing in and putting two shorelines out from the stern. A plank completes the arrangement, allowing a gap between the boat and shore in case of ferry wash, and access to and from the boat.
I managed to find a bottle of Robola, a Cephallonian wine, which I had been itching to try for ages. I’m not a big wine drinker and don’t much care for white wine but this one is supposed to be exceptional. It didn’t disappoint. I broke a bit more ice by sharing it with the crews either side of us on the mooring and suitably refreshed, we all met up for dinner, consoled each other over vast quantities of beer and retired relatively early for some well needed rest.

My Adventure Begins

By Mark A. Tucci

First, I’ve had a few trips with a friend on his sailboat. Then I though I would like one for myself. I watched E-Bay for some time, until I found one that was of a price I could afford. After successfully wining the bid on an Alacrity 18’6” in November 2006, I had to take a trip to Maine, over 200 Miles one way. It was an easy run up there; the weather was quite warm for that time of year. The boat was at that time named “Under Foot”, it look to be in fair shape. But it needed lots of work to get back up to speed. The trailer was what looked like a serviceable item also, except the tires were weather cracked, but I hoped I could make it home with no problems (not to be).
We used some duct tape and wrote In Tow on the back of the boat, with no plates for the trailer we could think of nothing else to do.
The Trip back started out good. The tires were a little low on air. So we ventured around the area for a while, looking for a gas station to put air in the tires and get some gas. Not having much luck, we used a hand pump on the trailer tires to keep them up for now. In the process, my friend and copilot found a seafood market where he bought a couple of lobsters and several pounds of shrimp to take back home. Now we were set for a while.
Finally we found a service station to get gas and air for the tires. They were down even more than they were to start with. After filling up with gas and air, we decided to add a can of fix-a-flat to help stop the air leak.
Finally feeling set to get going safely, we headed home. On the Interstate we went flying along blissfully for several hours. All the sudden a tire blows on the trailer. Having pulled over to the side, we check to see how bad things are. Not very good: the tire was shredded, it was getting dark and no spare to put on. (OH GREAT!)
Now the fun begins, having traveled using a GPS system, I checked to see if there was a service station close by that would be able to repair the flat. No luck again, so I call 911 for help. They dispatched a state trooper to help, after 30 minutes of waiting the trooper finally shows up. He checked us out and said we needed a tow truck to remove us from the thruway, Great! an expense that I did not count on or need. Again we waited approximately another hour before the tow truck shows up, he loaded the boat and trailer on the flatbed truck. Away we went to the service station to fix us up.
After another 20 minutes run we get to the station, only to find it closed for the night. The tow truck driver was of great help by calling around to see if there was any place to fix the tire. No luck again, every place was closed for the night or weekend. He gave us a couple of places we could try in the morning. With location in hand we head to the place to check it out, they will open in the morning, good!
Next to find something to eat and drink, as it has been a very long day plus I need to call home and tell my wife that. First the towing service ($175) and now a tire, too. So just down the road we find an all night dinner and finally get something to eat. Then back to the truck to get some sleep for me, while my friend stays up and goes back and forth to the diner getting some ice for the lobster and shrimps that are starting to smell. After a somewhat rough night of all most sleep we go back to the tire store to buy a tire, decided to get two new tires just in case ($65 each).
With new tires we head back to the service station to change them out. That part didn’t take too long and we were on the road again. After a few more hours driveing, there was a noise in the truck wheel some where. We pulled over to try and find what the problem was now. The best we could find was a wheel bearing was going in the back wheel ( Again Fun!).
Now I had to take it easy or be in it deep. After a long nerves stressed and a little luck we made home (36 hours instead of 14 hours). I drop the boat at a friend’s home for the winter for I had no place to put it for the time. That ended the trip and the start of reworking the boat.

Alacrity 19 for sale in New York

If you read "Graduation," you know that I graduated to a Ranger 26, so my Alacrity 19 is now available in the New York metro area. You can read about the many enhancements I have made in my columns, most of which are in the pdf versions of the newsletter. Among the enhancements:

• New main and 150 Genoa in the last four years
• New Harken mainsheet traveler
• Schaefer jib furler
• Boomkicker to replace the topping lift
• Marelon winches with Winchers (to make them self-tailing)
  
• All controls routed to the cockpit

The boat comes with a Shoreline trailer, an Evinrude 6 hp motor, and a frame for supporting a tarp over the cockpit during winter storage.

Price: $1500

I will deliver within 100 miles of Tarrytown, NY

George Bollenbacher
gmbandco@hotmail.com
914-393-7327

Islander 23 request

I am busy trawling the internet in search of any information I can find relating to an "Islander 23" this being a 1970 Bilge Keel sloop rigged yacht. The reason being that myself and a colleague are in the process of purchasing one. It needs a lot of TLC but appears to be essentially sound. I have an idea to record the process of turning a forlorn looking scruffy boat into a fine sailing yacht and would be more than happy to submit this to "Twin Keeler" for publication. In the meantime I still only have a few images of one or two similar craft for sale and little else. She was built by Russell Marine and sadly I can find little about them either. Do you think you or one of your readers could help with my research.

Many thanks
David Maddison

Mystery boat question solved

You published a letter in the Autumn 2007 (Vol. 11, Issue 3) edition from Corey Haun about a mystery twin keel boat. This actually used to be my boat. She is indeed a slightly modified Caprice. The trunk cabin was made slightly taller and I made a number of improvements to the interior. I had been trying to relocate this boat for some time. I was very sad to see how she has deteriorated since I sold her. Would it be possible for you to give me Corey's email address as I have a number of photos of when she was in excellent condition and can throw much light on her early history?

Many thanks,
Mark Waters

Around Britain in a Mirror Offshore

British journalist Dylan Winter is currently sailing around Britain in a 19 foot Mirror offshore tripple-keeler. He documents it on video which he uploads on YouTube for all to see.
This is an ongoing project as he is working at the same time, sailing in his spare time and leaving the boat in different ports when back at work. There are currently 32 short episodes of the documentary, all very professionally done and definitely worth watching!

Alacrity and Vivacity differences

Are the Alacrity and Vivacity in fact the same boat? Steve Henkel sent us his reflections on boat size and diffent ways to measure these. His article has already been published on the Alacrity site, so please go there to read it.

Hurricane Preparations and the Small Boat Sailor

By Neil Persadsingh

”Yes” he said to the Prince, ”the storm will come there is nothing you or I can do about that. But we have control over what we can do before the storm comes”
Any one who has a small sailboat and lives in the hurricane belt must start to think seriously about the increasing frequency of these storms and their increasing strength.
It seems that every hurricane season we get more and stronger storms. I consider the hurricane belt to include all of the West Indies, Florida, the Gulf States, Texas, Alabama, Louisana, the Carolinas and recently we had tropical storm Gabrielle menacing Nautachez. Also we must include the ABC islands off the coast of Venezuela, Nicargua, Hondouras, Guatemala, Belize and Mexico.
If you live in any of these places you must start to plan carefully for the storms. Monitor the weather carefully. Usually, we can spot these storms coming of the West coast of Africa very early in their genesis. Keeping track of the storms it is really a wonderfull hobby. If you would like to get a map and some pins you can keep track of the storm daily. Monitor all weather forecasts and keep track of the storm by radio broadcast etc. Incidentally the sites weatherchannel.com and caribbwx.com will give you an instant weather forecast twenty four hours a day.
If you have the capability to listen on the shortwave bands or the ham bands you can usually hear what is happening to boats in the region of the storm and there is a Carribean weather net at 14.325 Mhz daily. Those of us who saw the devastation caused in New Orleans must remember the pictures carried on CNN of a big sail boat with its genoa being trashed in the storm Kathrina. So the first order of business is to get the genoa off the boat.
In Viva, my 20 ft Vivacity, we use a roller furler. The tack of the sail is removed from the drum and the jib halyard is freed. The sail is then pulled down out of the grove of the roller furler. The jib sheets are then removed and the sail is carefully folded and put into a sail bag and stored below in the small cabin. The jib sheets are taken home and put into a pail with fresh water and allowed to soak out the salt and grime which accumulates on them when in use.
The main sail’s cover is then removed and carefully folded and stored below. In Viva we have a fully battened main sail; this is removed from the boom and rolled up into a sausage which is carefully stowed in the cabin. The sails are the engine of a sailboat, so treat them well and they will give you years of enjoyment. In Viva we then take off the boom, and the main sheet. The lazy jacks are then detached and tied off at the foot of the mast. The boom with the attached main sheet and the cleat is then stored inside the boat.
The tiller is removed and the rudder as well, and these are inside the boat resting on the floor. The boat is then made water tight. All the openings and ;vents are sealed off with duct tape and any holes we see are sealed off as well. Use the duct tape liberally. In Viva we had two mushroom vents which were removed and two cowl vents were installed. The cowl vents are screwed off and the plate that attaches to the base where the ventiliator is screwed on is reattached and carefully taped over with duct tape. A rool of duct tape is cheap compared to the cost of the price of the boat. In Viva we have installed in the cockpit a compass and a depth gauge. These are covered with their own coverings made of sunbella. These coverings are carefully removed.
The boat is now moved into a lagoon which borders the yacht club This lagoon is almost surrounded with mangroves and here the boat is carefully tied down. We usually put down an anchor with twenty feet of chain and fifty feet of rope any way. The boat is tied off to the trunks of the mangrove shrubs by four lengths of nylon line. Two forward and two astern and as an insurance policy a specially long line is attached to the samson post. These ines must all be of Nylon, because they will have to stretch. Because the boat is in a lagoon which is almost surrounded by mangroves, I believe that there is very little storm surge during the storm. Also the A rawak indians who lived here before the coming of Columbus would shield their seagoing canoes in these mangroves when the storm came and there are designated hurricane refuge spots eg Rosey Hole, which can be used by bigger boats during the hurricane.
I believe that these refuges in the mangroves must have been used from the time of the Spanish conquest of Jamaica. Following the passing of the hurricane we have to get the boat back in shape. Be warned however that the leaves will stain the fiberglass and a lot of leaves will be on the boat in the cockpit and on the deck.
The product Rolloff will remoove the stains from the leaves use it with lots of water Rolloff is sold by West Marine. The boat is then taken back to its berth and the genoa is reattached The boom is then reattached to the mast and the main sheet is then reattached to the horse with a shackle through the jam cleat.
At this junction the mast is carefully examined. Use binoculars and carefully examine the hounds where the stays and the shrouds are attached to the mast. Carefully rig the lazy jacks back in their place. Examine all the running rigging carefully. Put back on the rudder and reattach the tiller. Put back on the covers for the compass and for the depth gauge. Take off all the duct tape which you had previously put on and reinstall the cowl ventiliators.
Clean up the boat and give her a good hosing down and you are all ready to go to sea.
A sailboat is much safer in the water during a hurricane than on a trailer on land. It is easy for a boat to be blown off its trailer, during the last storm we had a J 22 was blown off the trailer damaging its keel and its hull. We also have been having some thoughts about the posssibility of the boat being holed and sinking. I think that in the next hurricane threat I will fill up some garbage bags with empth plastic bottles and just put them in the cabin they will be trapped in there and will give sufficent boyancy tio the boat, that if she is holed she will not sink.
PS: Neil, with callsign 6Y5NP can be reached on 14.283 every morning or at 14.287 in the evenings. He writes: ”Incidentally if we have any hams on board we are planning a marine ham event with two sailboats at some time in the future and we hope that you will try and work our station wherever in the world you are.”

Graduation

If you read “Sizewise” in the last issue, you may be able to figure out where this column is headed. But stick around – it’s worth the ride!

My grammar school, in semi-rural Illinois, was a very small affair. All eight grades shared four classrooms, and my eighth grade class had all of thirteen members. For what it’s worth, I was the class valedictorian, but it wasn’t worth much.

My high school was a typically suburban institution, but big, with an enrollment of 4,000 and a lot of smart, motivated kids. In one summer I went from the big fish in a very small pond to one of the nameless, faceless fish in the big school. Graduation became accommodation overnight.

Needless to say, I did accommodate, and duly graduated, but no longer at the head of my class. I learned a lot, and matured some, but not as much as some other kids. I did manage to meet my future wife, Betsy, in high school, but she wouldn’t go out with me – she dated the cool guys and I was something of a dweeb.

My parents thought I wasn’t quite ready for college, so they convinced me (“ordered me” sounds too demeaning) to go into the army first, then to college. Once again I was thrown into the water without a life jacket. I thought I was tough, but my drill sergeants were tougher, so I learned and accommodated some more. KP, night marches, and Saturday inspections were just the ticket for a suburban kid who read Sartre and wrote poetry.

In fact the army prepared me very well for my chosen college, a Big Ten university where the undergraduate enrollment was 25,000, and the graduate enrollment was 10,000. You could get a great education there, if you were determined and persistent, but nobody handed you anything. By this time I had toughened up, and was certain enough of what I wanted to do to take advantage of the opportunities, and during my senior year I applied to several grad schools.

I was accepted to a couple, much to my surprise, and chose the London School of Economics, in consul-tation with Betsy, who was by then my fiancée. Off we went to London, without much money but with lots of enthusiasm. It as a very urban school in a very big, sophisticated city, and we loved it.

So, graduations have been for me passages from a familiar place to a bigger, more challenging world. In every case there has been lots of anticipation, a little fear, and more learning than I ever expected.

Well, it’s happened in sailing. You may remember from “Sizewise” that I had been bidding, albeit timidly, on some bigger boats on Ebay. In June I saw a Ranger 26, a boat whose history I know a little about, up for auction in a boatyard in Verplanck, just up the Hudson from Tarrytown, which made it perfect.

I put in a ridiculously low bid, and promptly forgot about it. Later, when I was in Chicago on business, in the car to O’Hare Airport, my Blackberry went off, with the message, “Congratulations…” The old joke is that mixed emotions are watching your mother-in-law drive off the cliff in your new car. Actually, mixed emotions are buying a sailboat on Ebay. I could hear myself saying, “Oh, cool!” and “Oh, darn!” several times over the next few minutes.

The pictures of the boat looked very promising, but my state of mind all depended on a first-hand examination. When I was able to get to the yard, she was all I had hoped for, and more. The hull was in very good shape for a boat more than 30 years old, the standing rigging must have been replaced within the last ten years, and the jib furler looked brand new. The new Greyhound was a keeper. “Oh, cool!”

So I pulled the sails out of the cabin and sent the genoa off for some minor repairs. I painted the bottom and waxed the topsides. I put her new name on her. I poked around below decks and above, and finally she was ready to launch. The boatyard picked the new Greyhound up in a giant forklift and deposited her in the water, with me in the cockpit. I motored to a transient berth and set about rigging her.

The next day, a Sunday, I planned to sail her down from Verplanck to Tarrytown. I was worried that we might have a typical windless sultry summer day, but I should have known better. The winds were 20 knots, right in our face. Fortunately, I had an experienced sailor as a crew, but we had a bit of a wild ride down the Hudson. The Ranger is a LOT more boat than the Alacrity. I’ll definitely think twice before singlehanding this baby.

Now I’m embarked on all the fix-ups and upgrades of a new boat. The Alacrity is up for sale, with some people poking around. So I’m no longer a twin-keeler, but I still plan to write this column. We can’t let an extra keel come between us, can we? I’ve only graduated - I haven’t left the family.

George Bollenbacher

Posted July 18, 2008

Sizewise

When I was growing up in the Midwest, America’s motto seemed to be “Bigger is better.” I won’t tell you how long ago that was, but we had rotary tele-phones, afternoon newspapers, and gas was 50¢ a gallon. In those halcyon days we ate big, lived big, worked big, and played big.
The house I grew up in was a converted hay storage barn in Illinois, fairly near Chicago. My father, who was an architect, did a masterful job of turning the wide-open spaces of that barn into ample rooms for every use. The living room was 30 feet long, with a wall of windows on the south side. Maybe it’s because I was a kid, but that house seemed huge to me.
And cars seemed equally big to me back then. The first one I remember in our family was a 1950 Pontiac, a gray tank with a straight-8 engine. When my sister was learning to drive in that car, she hit a tree head on. She and my father were shaken up, the tree was more than a little damaged, but the car was un-fazed.
It seems that much of my growing up was a progression of “getting bigger.” My grammar school was tiny – four rooms for eight grades – but my high school was pretty big – 4,000 kids – and my university was enormous – 25,000 under-graduates. In the process of growing up I moved from a suburb of Chicago to London for graduate school, and then to New York for work. It seemed that bigger really was better.
Somewhere in the process, however, I came to my senses, sizewise. For example, my first car, as a teenager, was a used Buick land yacht, but my second, after college, was an MGB. After that, I had an Austin America, a now-defunct compact that got 30 miles to the gallon but refused to start if it even threatened to rain. Odd behavior for a British car.
Where I worked varied sizewise, as well. Right out of graduate school I went to work for a big New York bank. Sitting in a room full of junior credit analysts was quite a come-down from a graduate seminar in monetary economics, so after ten months I decamped for Wall Street, where I traded and sold securities for the next fifteen years, for companies both big and small.
Then, in big a career change, I jumped to the technology industry, working for two of the largest companies in the world, IBM and Unisys. After ten years of that, I went to the opposite extreme, starting my own consulting company that employs only me. You can’t get more extreme than that, sizewise.
So, after all those changes, where am I today? Clearly, jobwise, I’m a little guy. There are positives and negatives to that, of course, but it’s worked for me for eleven years, so I guess I’m where I ought to be.
Housewise, I’m in the middle. We have five bedrooms, which sounds like a lot for an empty-nest couple, but one is Betsy’s office, one is my den, one is the guest room, one is the “junk room,” and one is our bedroom. The house isn’t huge, and our lot isn’t either, so we’re comfortable without being pretentious. It’s probably a good place to be.
Carwise, we seem to be in the middle of the road. A Honda sedan and a Honda SUV occupy the driveway, the sedan for Betsy and the SUV for me. With two big dogs and a boat to trailer, the SUV seems to fill part of the bill, and the sedan is just right for all the other purposes.
Which brings us to boatwise. Greyhoundis definitely at the small end of the sailboat spectrum. In fact, it’s at the small end of all the boats in the marina. I got wind of where I stood, sizewise, when, arranging the slip, I told the marina manager how long it was, and he responded, “Oh, TINY!”
Well, Greyhoundispretty small when compared with most of the other boats in the marina, but she looked big enough to me when her previous owner pulled up in front of my house with her on a trailer. One reason is that she is a real sailboat, with keels instead of a centerboard, and a real cabin with real berths. No wimpy daysailer here!
On the other hand, she’s a miniature in a lot of ways. Her mast gets lost among the tall trees along the floating dock, and you have to duck under the boom on every tack. The cockpit holds two adults comfortably, but four are a pretty tight squeeze.
So, I think she is just the right size for me. Not too big, and not too small. I should be happy, don’t you think? Still, the “bigger is better” bug is still there. Just this week I bid on a Columbia 24 that showed up on eBay. I was winning until the last 15 minutes, but someone stepped up, and I backed away. Maybe, in my old age, I’m getting sizewise after all.

George Bollenbacher

Welcome to the future

After three years of publishing the Twin-Keeler Newsletter in PDF-format we have now decided to take another step towards the future of publishing. From now on all articles will be published instantly here. There will be no more waits for deadlines. Also, readers will be able to directly discuss the articles online.
Whats this space - and don't hesitate to contact us with your contributions.

Jens Kuhn
editor