Introduction

[Cap'n Deke]

I just wanted to introduce myself. I've followed this forum for a while and finally signed up. My boat is on the hard down in California getting some needed attention while I am visiting a friend up north for the winter. It's the first time since 1989 that I haven't lived on a boat and had projects to work on so I am trying to figure out what to do with myself and not drive my friend mad.

I sail a 60' wooden Alden schooner that I've owned for over 30 years now. She's taken me all over the world without so much as a whimper, but we ran into a storm last spring that was just a bit too much for the old girl. We limped into San Francisco where she's getting two new masts, a new boom, the bowsprit repaired, and a good section of the hull rebuilt.

Looking forward to getting to know some of you better.

Déaglán "Deke" Mac Gabhann

 

[Captain Larry-DH]

Welcome to the forum, Captain

 

[jssailem]

Welcome. Looking forward to hearing about your boat and adventures.

 

[Project_Mayhem]

Welcome to the forums! That sounds like one hell of a storm. Please do tell!

 

[dLj]

Welcome to the forum.

Sounds like a great boat - I love the looks of schooners! As far as not driving your friend nuts - I'm sure you can find projects that they would love to get done. The real question is how to keep from driving yourself nuts - boat separation is a real thing!

dj

 

[Cap'n Deke]

I wish there was a grand story behind it but the truth is that Aisling was due for some surgery anyway, and the sea merely pushed the matter from “soon” to “right now, lad.”

It was this past April, halfway between Hawai‘i and the mainland. We're making a lazy, pleasant reach for days - trade-wind stuff, blue skies you could drown. Then the forecast started muttering about a low rolling down from the Aleutians a bit faster than polite. Nothing dire, nothing theatrical - just one of those shoulders-against-the-door systems the Pacific likes to send to remind you who's renting the place.

By midnight, it was clear the thing meant business. The barometer was falling like a drunk off a barstool, and the sea got that tight, spiteful look. No rhythm, just teeth. We tucked two reefs, then three. Aisling was steady as ever, but the wind backed in sudden jerks, the way it does when the sky hasn’t made up its mind which way to scream.

The real trouble came at dawn. A sharp, ugly cross-sea slapped us broadside while the main was in mid-gybe - sloppy work on my part, I’ll own that - and the old spruce mainmast let out a pistol shot. Not a full break, but enough of a fracture at the partners that I didn’t need a surveyor to tell me she was finished. The gaff jaws tore loose, the boom thrashed, and the bowsprit took a couple of insults it didn’t deserve.

We got the sail bundled, lashed the boom, and nursed her along under foresail and staysail. She still made way - she always does - but each mile felt like she was clearing her throat to say, “This isn’t sustainable, Deke, and you know it.” I’ve trusted that boat longer than I’ve trusted most people, so when she tells me something, I listen.

We made San Francisco looking like the dog's lunch. The surveyor just looked at her and said, "If she was a horse, we'd shoot her."

But, that won't do for Aisling - that's not how she'll go out. So now she’s in pieces - new sticks being shaped, bowsprit sorted, a section of hull getting fresh ribs and planking. Honestly? She needed most of that anyway. The storm just saved me another year of saying “I’ll do it next haulout.”

And that’s the long and the short of it. Nothing heroic. Just an old schooner reminding me that she's ready for a vacation.

Ask me again in a few months and I'll have a better story. In fact, as I recall, there were pirates with grappling hooks. Yes, it's all coming back to me.

 

[shemandr]

A newcomer and already delivered a good story. And well written! This looks like fun.
Can you build some small craft in your layup? Dingy, canoe, paddle board, kayak? Good project in the time frame needed. Nothing better for the mind than figuring out how a boat goes together.

 

[Cap'n Deke]

Can you build some small craft in your layup? Dingy, canoe, paddle board, kayak? Good project in the time frame needed. Nothing better for the mind than figuring out how a boat goes together.

Fair thought.

I'm mostly wintering here in this hotel room though and I'm betting management would frown on that. But that would be one for the books! The more I think about it the better I like the idea. I don't mind saying that I started thinking about how to get my hand tools up here. I was actually hatching a mad plan when it finally dawned on me that I'd never get her out the door.

 

[Project_Mayhem]

I wish there was a grand story behind it but the truth is that Aisling was due for some surgery anyway, and the sea merely pushed the matter from “soon” to “right now, lad.”

It was this past April, halfway between Hawai‘i and the mainland. We're making a lazy, pleasant reach for days - trade-wind stuff, blue skies you could drown. Then the forecast started muttering about a low rolling down from the Aleutians a bit faster than polite. Nothing dire, nothing theatrical - just one of those shoulders-against-the-door systems the Pacific likes to send to remind you who's renting the place.

By midnight, it was clear the thing meant business. The barometer was falling like a drunk off a barstool, and the sea got that tight, spiteful look. No rhythm, just teeth. We tucked two reefs, then three. Aisling was steady as ever, but the wind backed in sudden jerks, the way it does when the sky hasn’t made up its mind which way to scream.

The real trouble came at dawn. A sharp, ugly cross-sea slapped us broadside while the main was in mid-gybe - sloppy work on my part, I’ll own that - and the old spruce mainmast let out a pistol shot. Not a full break, but enough of a fracture at the partners that I didn’t need a surveyor to tell me she was finished. The gaff jaws tore loose, the boom thrashed, and the bowsprit took a couple of insults it didn’t deserve.

We got the sail bundled, lashed the boom, and nursed her along under foresail and staysail. She still made way - she always does - but each mile felt like she was clearing her throat to say, “This isn’t sustainable, Deke, and you know it.” I’ve trusted that boat longer than I’ve trusted most people, so when she tells me something, I listen.

We made San Francisco looking like the dog's lunch. The surveyor just looked at her and said, "If she was a horse, we'd shoot her."

But, that won't do for Aisling - that's not how she'll go out. So now she’s in pieces - new sticks being shaped, bowsprit sorted, a section of hull getting fresh ribs and planking. Honestly? She needed most of that anyway. The storm just saved me another year of saying “I’ll do it next haulout.”

And that’s the long and the short of it. Nothing heroic. Just an old schooner reminding me that she's ready for a vacation.

Ask me again in a few months and I'll have a better story. In fact, as I recall, there were pirates with grappling hooks. Yes, it's all coming back to me.

Great and well written story! Looking forward to hearing more!

 

[kappykaplan]

I wish there was a grand story behind it but the truth is that Aisling was due for some surgery anyway, and the sea merely pushed the matter from “soon” to “right now, lad.”

It was this past April, halfway between Hawai‘i and the mainland. We're making a lazy, pleasant reach for days - trade-wind stuff, blue skies you could drown. Then the forecast started muttering about a low rolling down from the Aleutians a bit faster than polite. Nothing dire, nothing theatrical - just one of those shoulders-against-the-door systems the Pacific likes to send to remind you who's renting the place.

By midnight, it was clear the thing meant business. The barometer was falling like a drunk off a barstool, and the sea got that tight, spiteful look. No rhythm, just teeth. We tucked two reefs, then three. Aisling was steady as ever, but the wind backed in sudden jerks, the way it does when the sky hasn’t made up its mind which way to scream.

The real trouble came at dawn. A sharp, ugly cross-sea slapped us broadside while the main was in mid-gybe - sloppy work on my part, I’ll own that - and the old spruce mainmast let out a pistol shot. Not a full break, but enough of a fracture at the partners that I didn’t need a surveyor to tell me she was finished. The gaff jaws tore loose, the boom thrashed, and the bowsprit took a couple of insults it didn’t deserve.

We got the sail bundled, lashed the boom, and nursed her along under foresail and staysail. She still made way - she always does - but each mile felt like she was clearing her throat to say, “This isn’t sustainable, Deke, and you know it.” I’ve trusted that boat longer than I’ve trusted most people, so when she tells me something, I listen.

We made San Francisco looking like the dog's lunch. The surveyor just looked at her and said, "If she was a horse, we'd shoot her."

But, that won't do for Aisling - that's not how she'll go out. So now she’s in pieces - new sticks being shaped, bowsprit sorted, a section of hull getting fresh ribs and planking. Honestly? She needed most of that anyway. The storm just saved me another year of saying “I’ll do it next haulout.”

And that’s the long and the short of it. Nothing heroic. Just an old schooner reminding me that she's ready for a vacation.

Ask me again in a few months and I'll have a better story. In fact, as I recall, there were pirates with grappling hooks. Yes, it's all coming back to me.

Quite the story, tks for sharing. And welcome to the forum!

 

[rpwillia]

I dunno, that sure sounded like grand story.

 

[DRhoads]

Welcome and what an introduction. Look forward to hearing more.
Cheers

 

[TrapperJohn]

Wow! Quite the introduction. Welcome!

You should be writing a book while you're holed up in your stateroom, pyrates ‍ and all. I'd be on the lookout for it.