2020 includes, of course, Covid-19. Our country is in the midst of a raging spike that we're even feeling here in Maine.
2020 is still all different, onshore at least, so it was nice to have some capable help along in my daughter. She took all the pics, starting with this one; a selfie of her boots.
But it was taken for me to show the dinghy next to ours nearly sunk by the last few rains.
Ours wasn't that full but it took her some bailing (I was waiting on the other side of the harbor).
She threw in this shot of our dinghys painter and the tie off bull rail: Despite it being tied and bailed dry just 5 days before, this gives you a sense of our fall weather(and this side of the dock is protected from the open harbor).
5'3" and strong, she insisted on rowing me (and taking pics) into the 10-15 SW - gusting to 20 - that had built up a nice steep chop. She nearly made it but didn't resist (too much) when I took over for the last 100 yards(I was glad that was all I had to do!).
As you can see, yesterday was a beautiful fall day in November, and windy. The temperature reached into the mid 60's.
Matt, the travelift operator said, 'as soon as you see the slings dip into the water, drive her in'.
We arrived too early so drove around a bit. Plenty of space but all the fishing boats are still in the water. With most of the rig off, there's not much to deter birds. They own the harbor now.
Finally, we saw the slings slowly dip into the water and headed for the alley, with a 15-20 knot tailwind.
I had given a few bursts of reverse out in the harbor to test as to what sort of braking effect we had with the late-season bottom growth on the prop.
We had some (braking), but driving the boat into the slings was more a case of a little backing and filling - while sailing downwind - at about 3 knots, to keep from going broadside.
To add to the challenge (thanks Covid-19), Matt decided I was good enough that we could handle this, without any more hands.
Mary Jane had four dock lines lead and coiled. But we didn't need them, Matt's hands were on the travel-lift control box and nobody hands to throw the docklines, to.
We came into the slot as slow as possible. Matt, with his hands full and eyes on the bow, already had the slings on their way back up, all around us. My eyes on Matt, he mouthed "whoa" in my direction (we couldn't hear above the wind), to which I yanked the reverse lever.
I felt Matt's grip on the hull, from below. We were 'tied'.
Unlike spring, there's nothing to do (I'm having my spruce spar pulled on the public landing later in the week).
Mary Jane and I climbed into the dinghy as Xmas rose, and headed for the dinghy dock a couple yards away.
For some, seeing your boat come out of the water on a seasonal, brings sadness. For others, there is a feeling of relief. Mary Jane and I fit into the latter group.
This season threw some curves our way but Covid be damned, we're still sailing.
2020 is still all different, onshore at least, so it was nice to have some capable help along in my daughter. She took all the pics, starting with this one; a selfie of her boots.
But it was taken for me to show the dinghy next to ours nearly sunk by the last few rains.
Ours wasn't that full but it took her some bailing (I was waiting on the other side of the harbor).
She threw in this shot of our dinghys painter and the tie off bull rail: Despite it being tied and bailed dry just 5 days before, this gives you a sense of our fall weather(and this side of the dock is protected from the open harbor).
5'3" and strong, she insisted on rowing me (and taking pics) into the 10-15 SW - gusting to 20 - that had built up a nice steep chop. She nearly made it but didn't resist (too much) when I took over for the last 100 yards(I was glad that was all I had to do!).
As you can see, yesterday was a beautiful fall day in November, and windy. The temperature reached into the mid 60's.
Matt, the travelift operator said, 'as soon as you see the slings dip into the water, drive her in'.
We arrived too early so drove around a bit. Plenty of space but all the fishing boats are still in the water. With most of the rig off, there's not much to deter birds. They own the harbor now.
Finally, we saw the slings slowly dip into the water and headed for the alley, with a 15-20 knot tailwind.
I had given a few bursts of reverse out in the harbor to test as to what sort of braking effect we had with the late-season bottom growth on the prop.
We had some (braking), but driving the boat into the slings was more a case of a little backing and filling - while sailing downwind - at about 3 knots, to keep from going broadside.
To add to the challenge (thanks Covid-19), Matt decided I was good enough that we could handle this, without any more hands.
Mary Jane had four dock lines lead and coiled. But we didn't need them, Matt's hands were on the travel-lift control box and nobody hands to throw the docklines, to.
We came into the slot as slow as possible. Matt, with his hands full and eyes on the bow, already had the slings on their way back up, all around us. My eyes on Matt, he mouthed "whoa" in my direction (we couldn't hear above the wind), to which I yanked the reverse lever.
I felt Matt's grip on the hull, from below. We were 'tied'.
Unlike spring, there's nothing to do (I'm having my spruce spar pulled on the public landing later in the week).
Mary Jane and I climbed into the dinghy as Xmas rose, and headed for the dinghy dock a couple yards away.
For some, seeing your boat come out of the water on a seasonal, brings sadness. For others, there is a feeling of relief. Mary Jane and I fit into the latter group.
This season threw some curves our way but Covid be damned, we're still sailing.
