Means of Seeing what the eye brings

Got the Dink back together Sunday morning. i sanded the cheek-scarfs smooth and, without even a pause for fresh paint, dropped the mast back in, and went out for a sail. i bit the bullet, and despite the poor winds, and set out for Smuggler’s Cove.
The expected north-northeast winds shifted southerly, and i was forced to stand waaay out towards Sandy Cay just to make the angle into Smuggler’s. It took me about two hours altogether to sail there. i was surprised along the way by the several butterflys i had wing past me, out there in the middle of the north sound. The landing through the surf went fairly smoothly (didn’t embarrass myself in front of the tourists too much), and after stowing the topmast and sail, i trotted up to the honour bar.
A burger and few fine mojitos later (the bar at Smuggler’s makes the best on the island), i launched into the surf for the sail home. This time, the wind was with me, but unfortunately, dying down fast. Getting past the currents off Steele Point was as annoying as expected, and it took a few lousy tacks to discover the “just right” finger of wind to follow up along Little Thatch before tacking over towards the J.R. i blew one tack when a pair of dolphins popped up beside me, a few yards away.
Darkness dropped like a (very dark) stone, along with the last of the wind, and i motor-sailed (paddled) the last hundred yards or so. The trip home took about three hours. Good fun, but needed more wind. Well, saying that, i’m remined of the hours spent repairing the mast from the last “fun wind” day… Could a larger, more robust dingy be in the works? Stay tuned…

When we watch the movies or read the books, the fiction we encounter is subject to a certain suspension of disbelief. It seems difficult to apply that same feeling to our “real” lives. Why? Why not? What’s the question?
It’s so easy to slip into identifying with the character on the page or screen. Of course, that’s part of how a good fiction works. After a good encounter with fiction, i have to shake myself out of it a bit, and return to the real world. Inevitably, reality seems a little stale in comparison. It’s so easy to imagine myself as the hero if the fiction, identifying with the failures and triumphs, passions and pitfalls. Outside of the fiction, i sometimes have a hard time identifying with the hero of my own reality.
Really, my own adventure is pretty freakin’ cool. The problem? Maybe it’s just that the fictions tend to gloss over the nuts and bolts. The adventuresome hero is seldom left washing their own socks, ever horribly hungover, or unable to find the correct screwdriver for the task at hand.
How does the saying go? Attitude is the difference between adventure and adversity? i’m remembering that my life is a grand adventure, that i am the hero of my own fiction, and that “reality” needn’t always be so intrusive. Not if i choose to not let it be…

Just checked the Lady website, and have noticed that Jesse Loge is back aboard, and this time as Bosun. This is a right and proper thing; i see many good things in the future for the Lady’s rigging!
The whole time i served with Jesse, he was The Man Who Would Be Bosun. About time!

The gusty weather of late has finally goten the better of the Dink. i was dismasted yesterday afternoon during my usual post-work sail. After a fabulous run down the harbour, i had beaten 2/3 of the way back towards the boatyard, when i thought i’d play around a little… i blasted off on a great roaring reach towards some remote-control sailboats i saw bobbing about just off Pusser’s Landing, and having buzzed them a few times, was off like a shot for home.
The new vang i added to the rig was working incredibly well, flattening the leech for much improved punch to windward (with the sail sheeted on the quarter for drive). In fact, i suppose the vang was working too well; crossing through a powerboat wake that would normally just set the mast to rocking and creaking in the partners, there was nowhere for the rig to flex… The lower mast sheared off clean at the partners, flew past my head, and dropped into the sea.
i cleared the rig, hauling the bits aboard, and set out into the headwind with my paddle. Luckily, a cruiser came by in his tender and offered me tow back to the dock, saving me from a difficult paddle!
Today, after getting out with the KATS kids (teaching Laser sailing), i dropped back into the shop to see what could be done. i extracted the stump from the grip of the partners and mast step, and found (to my delight) that it socketed neatly into the corresponding jagged bits on the mast proper. i’ve got the two pieces epoxied together now, and tomorrow i’ll have a go at cutting out the new cheek scarfs that will strengthen the joint.
i guess it had to happen sooner or later; i’m just glad it happened in the relative protection of the harbour, rather than out in the channel! After getting the Dink parked for the night, a cruiser on the dock told me that his masthead wind indicator had maxed out at 41 knots the night before, and had been seeing 20-25 knots through the afternoon! For those unfamiliar with such things, that’s really cookin’ weather for a 7 foot gunter-rigged dingy. At least now i know what the Dink can (and can’t) take.
There’s a 10-footer out behind the boatshed looking like it needs a new lease on life… hmmm… What sort of rig and sail to build for that one, and how much will it take?