A knockdown sail!
Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2012 9:06 pm
Hi all!
I took QUMBU out for her second only sail under my helm last Sunday. It was a GTYC club winter series race of about 3 hours duration, over a lengthy course around the recreational markers in Corio Bay. The weather was predicted to be cold and showery, with winds from the W-SW of 15-20 knots.
I had made further ’refinements’ to my rigging following my first sea trial since QUMBU’s refurb, and this time I was again lucky to have fellow club member (and former club captain) Jim Bland as crew. Jim has years of experience on all sorts of boats, in all sorts of weather. He's also very generous in offering his advice to new boat owners, and as the wind picked up I was happy to have him aboard.
Mast raising was surprisingly easy, and I'd forgotten how light the mast actually is to lift single-handedly. I was glad however that I had rigged some baby-stays, as these prevented the mast on one occasion from swerving too far to port during a moment of inattention! I can thoroughly recommend these, whatever method you use to lift your rig!
Once on the ramp, I decided to take Ian's advice from an earlier post here, and not dip my trailer in nearly as deeply as I had previously done. Instead, I backed her down the ramp until the hubs had just disappeared, then unlocked the tilt and pushed the bow up. The boat shot back down into the water like a bullet - no problems! So that's how I'll be launching off the St Helen’s ramps from now on!
On the water at the jetty, I just couldn’t get my motor started; very frustrating! But rather than miss the race, Jim and I just raised a sail and headed off past the groyne under wind power - a feat we repeated some hours later to return to the jetty. Other club members watching from afar were a bit surprised by all this, as they always start their engines to get out on the bay proper. But I had spent the past decade crewing on a Hartley 16 up at Lake Eppalock for a skipper who never started his motor; instead, we always sailed off from the shore or jetty with sails half raised, and returned under the same power. I think it’s a very handy skill to master, especially as you never know when your motor might play up. (Of course, a motor's essential from a safety point of view, and I'd never deliberately sail without a working engine.)
Once out on the bay, we raised our sails fully and tried to get the lay of the course. Jim had already talked me out of using my furler, as he swears they're useless for racing. Earlier onshore, he had fitted some piston hanks up the jib leach before we set off, so we now hoisted the jib up the forestay and it worked a treat.
The wind by now was really starting to rise, nudging the upper end of the predicted 15-20 knots. An ominous dark swell was also building from the SW, with the occasional white-caps. I was getting a little nervous about my second only sail in the boat, but as time went on I gained more and more confidence in her stability amidst the frequent squalls.
Just as the race started though, our sheets gave way from the jib, sending it fluttering all over the place. Jim crawled up and tried to knot these off again, while I brought the boat around to ind to try to calm the sail for him to work on.
I also noted around is time that my transom mounted traveller was next to useless, for as soon as it came under tension (from the pull of the mainsheet) the section of rail spanning the gap where the tiller goes through the transom simply twisted, jamming the traveller car in situ. So there's another modification waiting to be done: affix the traveller rail on a sterner section of metal to prevent any further distortion under pressure.
Once we got sailing proper, QUMBU went a treat. She rose and fell with the swell, and gybing was surprisingly easy, despite the 20 knot stern wind. She's certainly not the fastest boat I've ever sailed on, but she plied the rough conditions very well.
The biggest test for the boat and us came on a long return leg hard to windward, with the wind now gusting to perhaps 25 knots. Jim and I had decided not to reef, so although the helm was pulling a little hard, we seemed to be going OK. But then an extra strong bullet came through and I didn't ease off in time. QUMBU went over to leeward and just kept going until her starboard coaming and rail were momentarily in the brine. We took a bit of water into the cockpit, and I thought we’d take on more.
However, just to prove me wrong, the broached angle allowed the wind to escape the mainsail and we just gently rounded back up to our normal heel - no drama! In fact, it was actually a bit of fun - especially knowing that the heavy keel below us had done just what I hoped it should have done: righted us after a knockdown! The water in the cockpit quickly drained out the two rear drains and we were off again!
A few minutes later the jib sheets broke loose again, sending the jib fluttering like a mad thing. Jim had to belly crawl up front again to re-secure the flailing monster, while I eased off the main and tried to head us dead to wind. After a minute or two he had the jib under control again, and we were off.
We finished the race well behind everyone else, but we had learnt a lot about the boat, and made a new list of things to do. That includes replacing the useless webstrap I had on the trailer winch, which gave way as I tried to haul QUMBU up the final half metre onto her trailer. A new spectra tow line is coming her way!
Cheers,
I took QUMBU out for her second only sail under my helm last Sunday. It was a GTYC club winter series race of about 3 hours duration, over a lengthy course around the recreational markers in Corio Bay. The weather was predicted to be cold and showery, with winds from the W-SW of 15-20 knots.
I had made further ’refinements’ to my rigging following my first sea trial since QUMBU’s refurb, and this time I was again lucky to have fellow club member (and former club captain) Jim Bland as crew. Jim has years of experience on all sorts of boats, in all sorts of weather. He's also very generous in offering his advice to new boat owners, and as the wind picked up I was happy to have him aboard.
Mast raising was surprisingly easy, and I'd forgotten how light the mast actually is to lift single-handedly. I was glad however that I had rigged some baby-stays, as these prevented the mast on one occasion from swerving too far to port during a moment of inattention! I can thoroughly recommend these, whatever method you use to lift your rig!
Once on the ramp, I decided to take Ian's advice from an earlier post here, and not dip my trailer in nearly as deeply as I had previously done. Instead, I backed her down the ramp until the hubs had just disappeared, then unlocked the tilt and pushed the bow up. The boat shot back down into the water like a bullet - no problems! So that's how I'll be launching off the St Helen’s ramps from now on!
On the water at the jetty, I just couldn’t get my motor started; very frustrating! But rather than miss the race, Jim and I just raised a sail and headed off past the groyne under wind power - a feat we repeated some hours later to return to the jetty. Other club members watching from afar were a bit surprised by all this, as they always start their engines to get out on the bay proper. But I had spent the past decade crewing on a Hartley 16 up at Lake Eppalock for a skipper who never started his motor; instead, we always sailed off from the shore or jetty with sails half raised, and returned under the same power. I think it’s a very handy skill to master, especially as you never know when your motor might play up. (Of course, a motor's essential from a safety point of view, and I'd never deliberately sail without a working engine.)
Once out on the bay, we raised our sails fully and tried to get the lay of the course. Jim had already talked me out of using my furler, as he swears they're useless for racing. Earlier onshore, he had fitted some piston hanks up the jib leach before we set off, so we now hoisted the jib up the forestay and it worked a treat.
The wind by now was really starting to rise, nudging the upper end of the predicted 15-20 knots. An ominous dark swell was also building from the SW, with the occasional white-caps. I was getting a little nervous about my second only sail in the boat, but as time went on I gained more and more confidence in her stability amidst the frequent squalls.
Just as the race started though, our sheets gave way from the jib, sending it fluttering all over the place. Jim crawled up and tried to knot these off again, while I brought the boat around to ind to try to calm the sail for him to work on.
I also noted around is time that my transom mounted traveller was next to useless, for as soon as it came under tension (from the pull of the mainsheet) the section of rail spanning the gap where the tiller goes through the transom simply twisted, jamming the traveller car in situ. So there's another modification waiting to be done: affix the traveller rail on a sterner section of metal to prevent any further distortion under pressure.
Once we got sailing proper, QUMBU went a treat. She rose and fell with the swell, and gybing was surprisingly easy, despite the 20 knot stern wind. She's certainly not the fastest boat I've ever sailed on, but she plied the rough conditions very well.
The biggest test for the boat and us came on a long return leg hard to windward, with the wind now gusting to perhaps 25 knots. Jim and I had decided not to reef, so although the helm was pulling a little hard, we seemed to be going OK. But then an extra strong bullet came through and I didn't ease off in time. QUMBU went over to leeward and just kept going until her starboard coaming and rail were momentarily in the brine. We took a bit of water into the cockpit, and I thought we’d take on more.
However, just to prove me wrong, the broached angle allowed the wind to escape the mainsail and we just gently rounded back up to our normal heel - no drama! In fact, it was actually a bit of fun - especially knowing that the heavy keel below us had done just what I hoped it should have done: righted us after a knockdown! The water in the cockpit quickly drained out the two rear drains and we were off again!
A few minutes later the jib sheets broke loose again, sending the jib fluttering like a mad thing. Jim had to belly crawl up front again to re-secure the flailing monster, while I eased off the main and tried to head us dead to wind. After a minute or two he had the jib under control again, and we were off.
We finished the race well behind everyone else, but we had learnt a lot about the boat, and made a new list of things to do. That includes replacing the useless webstrap I had on the trailer winch, which gave way as I tried to haul QUMBU up the final half metre onto her trailer. A new spectra tow line is coming her way!
Cheers,