by Skipper Mary
First published in Mainsheet.
BLAST FROM THE C26 PAST
Sturgeon Bay, WI —At the Harbor Club Marina, my old pal Toast and I sat in Revision’s cockpit and noticed the man checking us out. He took a few steps down the finger pier, asked a couple questions about the boat, then said, “I used to own it.”
Well that got Toast’s and my attention.
The fellow said he had it for one season and now sails a Catalina 34.
“What did you think of the documentation?” I asked. (Having bought the boat new in 1990, the Humls had saved everything from handwritten oil change dates to typewritten sail trim notes in a 3” thick binder. The Universal M2-12 engine manual has been valuable, but my favorite is the little white tag hanging from the wire shelf mounted in the cabinet under the alcohol stove. In neat cursive it reads, “Great shelf for a heavy casserole. A.H.” Now, I never have put any kind of casserole there, but that tag will stay as long as we have the boat.)
Back to dock talk. Our visitor nodded, saying, “They sailed it every weekend and when they sold it to me they walked away from sailing—even left their foul weather gear on board.”
I think he could see my puzzlement.
“Well, by then she was 83 and he was 85.”
We chatted a bit more, then he left without me getting his name, and Toast patted the bench, declaring, “This boat has good juju.”
FYI: Harbor Club Marina was nice and our dock guy was helpful. We even found out he has a piece of land up in the Keweenaw near the old Kinnunen family homestead farm. Toast and I ate dinner at Hot Tamales which was a lot of fun, and toured the Maritime Museum and old tug they've restored. Sturgeon Bay is one fine city. We're making plans to sail again and she's promised to, "Not bring so much stuff."
ON THE WALL
Fish Creek, WI — On a beam reach Connie and I made the 18-mile sail east to the Fish Creek Town Dock. We would be on the wall longer than anticipated due to weather that flared up—rainless but heavy—and an engine hiccup. That we had no slip to retreat to, but were bobbing on the wall, opened the door to conversation on this popular pier. In other words, we were sitting ducks to the passersby.
Day 1—Sailing skills
That evening the wind strengthened to the point we removed the blue plastic tarp “bimini,” and by morning a Small Craft Warning had been issued. There was no need for us to sail, so we stayed put. An upside to the wall was our view of the whitecaps and the crafts in them:
- A bulbous powerboat, maybe 35’, left and returned within the hour with the crew describing the waves washing over the bow.
- The jetskiers playing in the surf were fun to watch as we couldn’t hear them over the howl.
- We watched a small center-cockpit sailboat come in under sail. This got our attention. That and it was being single-handed. Then he picked up the mooring on the first pass. Connie said she wanted to swim over to meet him.
Day 2—Social skills
With the big stuff over and the sun shining, we headed out. The waves were still robust, now on the nose, and before long the engine temperature had climbed past 160°. I’m sensitive to impeller issues so we turned back to check the raw water system in a stable environment.
Back on the wall, Connie leaned into the companionway as I emptied the strainer, which was weedless, and bled the raw water hose, then checked the coolant level. This, as you know, takes time, and I could hear Connie responding to questions. Finally I heard her yell, “Mary knows her boat!”
I appreciated her confidence but still hadn’t diagnosed the problem, if there was one. Back in the cockpit, I took a breather:
- The pier had filled with people pushing kids in strollers, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles, quite a few pregnant women, friends, grannies and grandpas, middle-agers, and young couples in love.
- A man who sails a C27 stopped by to comment on Revision’s lines. I understood his appreciation as, dare I say, our C26’s are classic.
- A couple from Chicago stopped to compare notes about Revision and their C25. I don’t remember much of that conversation other than he’d had it out in a gale. By that time I think I was hungry.
Back to the engine. It usually stays around 135º —so we fired it up and ran it for 30 minutes, 15 of them at high rev. It stayed at 120º so okay! But enough time had passed that under best case scenario we’d reach home port at dusk, so we decided to stay put another night. After enjoying our Bayside Tavern Munchie Basket—deep-fried everything—Connie and I tried our best to make it to the rockin’ headliner, Toivo, but left around midnight after the opener’s third song. We wanted to be fresh for our sail home.
Day 3—A cave of salt
The NOAA printout taped to the marina office window looked good, while the NOAA radio forecast was calling for 4- to 8-foot waves. The waters of Green Bay are a 120-mile long estuary of Lake Michigan, so weather changes are commonplace and conditions can be radically different from one end to the other. Thus, forecasts are to be taken not with the proverbial pinch, but with a cave of salt, such as when Jeff and I were in two days of 25- to 30+-knot air with NOAA radio repeating “West wind five to ten knots,” throughout. They were right about the west. So Connie and I kicked back and waited.
At 11 a.m. we called Sea Runt at Nestegg Marina on the other side of the bay who said conditions there were good.
So we decided to depart.
Getting ready to cast off, I noticed an apparently non-sailing family standing at the edge of the pier. The mom, dad, brother and sister (the girl maybe 8) were staring; I mean, locked onto the boat. When describing the open mouths to my friend, Prunella, who participates in antique car rallies, she said, “When people stare at us, it usually means something’s fallen off.”
Hmm. This got me to wondering what the family might have seen.
Anyhow, if there were 4- to 8-foot waves out there, Connie and I didn’t find them. After the big bright blow the world was now soft and gray, the wind was 60-90° from port and we were cruising at 5 knots. Connie was so smooth at the helm I sat on the companionway steps and attended to some sewing, threading the needle with the first pass.
Then, maybe ½ mile off the Menominee lighthouse the sun lit us up. I said, “Hey Connie. I bet somebody on shore is pointing and saying, ‘Look at that sailboat.’”
FYI: Fish Creek Town Dock. A municipal facility,
the town dock has 32 slips, a mooring area, and the pier, which is first-come,
first-serve, 2-hour comp tie-ups. During heavy weather this becomes flexible. Revision’s
crew thanks the Fish Creek Town Dock employees for their hospitality—and
letting us hang out. 