1st Day of the Memorial Day 2006 Sail to the Gulf
First is a pic of the leg out from Kemah to Galveston--about a 27 nautical mile sail...the photo is our friend's boat bearing down on us. His plan was to bombard the Hoo with water balloons launched from a big slingshot. But Steve is a lousy gunnery officer. Hit his own boat.
After that, we split up, taking different courses to our destination, the Galveston Yacht Basin. Yours truly prefers a well-defined approach with timed runs along plotted courses. Magellan is of the let's-sail-this-way-for-awhile-and-see-what-happens variety. I'll leave spontaneous sailing him. It's charts, a stop watch and a steady speed and heading aboard Houdini. Precision. Precision. Precision. Annette's favorite sound is my "15 seconds to turn"...lets her know to belay that sunbathing on the lazerette--time to work.
Got to keep an eye peeled for these guys. There are 3 of these ferries running back and forth across the Ship Channel from Galveston to Bolivar Penninsula.
Never been on that trip. Time, I think, to make a land cruise on the Harley (The Great White Whale), a particularly cool 2005 Fat Boy.
This is what a 38-foot Sea-Ray looks like after the fuel tank leaks into the bilge and then you go hit the starter. Lights up like a Mexican grill right away. This happened while we were about 3 miles out of the Galveston Yacht Basin, but we saw the smoke from it immediately--big black mushroom cloud. We tied-off about an hour later just a few yards from the accident. Poor folks in that boat were taken to UTMB in critical condition.
Safely in Galveston Yacht Basin. The XO got a work out on the way in. She practiced her navigation skills in East Bay. We had never sailed East Bay before. Some interesting obstacles to anticipate and clear in our tacking under timed-runs and approach planning, but The Nearly Perfect Wife performed well---even if she did get a little tensed-up and crabby in some of the tighter spots.
2nd day--Memorial Day 2006 sail--into The Gulf of Mexico...
What?
Wilson?
Wilson where are you?
Oh no.
Oh no. No. No!
Wilson!
Wilson!
Wilson, hang on! Hang on! Wilson, come back!
Wilson!
Ohhhhhhh noooooooooo........Willlllllsonnnnnnnnn!
Our little Gulf trip stretched out only 5 nautical miles--just far enough that we were beyond sight of land. (Have to take this off-shore stuff in stages: the XO, aka The Nearly Perfect Wife, gets jumpy when terra firma is gone from view.) The weather began to get dicey, so we turned and made for the jetties. Seas were up to 6 feet, but Houdini rode them like a pelican.
On the return leg into the Galveston Jetties, we met two big cruise ships headed out under the lowering weather and building seas. The rails on these sea-going casino hotels were lined with every kind of lubber-romantic. You knew them right away: they were the ones making-out behind the lifeboats. The Captain asked the hanging question: how many of those distracted lovers would be hanging over the bulwark instead of each other in a few hours?
Just had to put this guy in here. He was tame as any house cat. Sat up there watching us and the folks in the slip next to us like a line judge in a tennis match.
This is Raymond. He was out sailing with his parents and an introverted Canadian who concieved an instantaneous and obvious dislike for The Captain. Poor bastard. That's the surest way to get The Captain to haul-in your main sheet.
But everybody loved Raymond. Raymond thought Houdini was shiny, and told his mom and dad (in the background) that he preferred sitting on the Mighty Hoo. Raymond also explained to us how he was planning to use a net as big as the world to catch a shark and a crab. When I suggested that was a lot of net for so young a fisherman, he explained he would have a giant pull it for him.
After our visit with the marina natives, and the interview with Raymond, we settled down for snacks and the obligatory vodka and tonic. Vodka, says the XO, is the essential elixir for any important shore-foraging strategy meeting. Our plan: strike ashore for dinner among the impossibly pretty locals at Landry's and work our unique sea-mojo on them. Shown here are Tracie, Magellan and The Nearly Perfect Wife (foreground) aboard Houdini.
LAST DAY OF THE 2006 MEMORIAL DAY SAIL.....
After Thumper and Magellan and The Nearly Perfect Wife and I ate a breakfast of pancakes and at least one engine-mount impersonating a biscuit, we walked out of the joint and saw this...Magellan, of course, said, "If we leave now we can get back before dark."
My friend, Magellan, is an intrepid sailor. He likes the rail down and water washing along the side decks like the log ride at Six Flags. But his enthusiasm occasionally suffers blind spots where it bleeds off into something normal folks call a death wish. I replied,"Look here: anything coming from that quarter, with that amount of purple in it, is going to have some big wind in it, too. I say we wait for that to pass." Thumper and The Nearly Perfect Wife agreed. Magellan suffered the mutiny in silent dignity.
Fifteen minutes later, with all of us on our respective vessels, the wind came down like a Rider of the Apocalypse. The VHF radio was a constant crackle of wild calls from boaters caught in 50-60 knot winds. The Coast Guard replies had the resigned tone of men who knew they must choose between the merely panicked and those in real danger. Houdini and The Nearly Perfect Wife and I rode it out at dockside--though even tied-off we had a good 10-degree heel and a pelting rain.
Once the weather ran off to the southeast, we set out from the Galveston Yacht Basin. And so did everything else with a keel or propeller or screw or rudder. At the intersection of the Intercoastal Canal, the Houston Ship Channel and the cut above Pelican Island, things got downright crowded: tugs, barges, tankers, cargo ships, shrimpers, recreational fishermen, power boaters, cruise ships and an unbroken parade of sailboats coagulated, some headed north, some headed into an agitated Gulf.
One lesson learned in all this traffic: stand off from that barge-pushing tug, mister. The revolutions on those screws pull an awesome amount of water past his rudder, to a depth of at least four feet. Too close, and the suction will pull your keel to him, too. Had we been in anything less than the 20-knot east winds powering us along, we likely would have had some intimate moments between the Mighty Houdini and our truculent tug just to port.
As for the more peaceful stretch north. I captained for awhile-- and when the fleet thinned, turned the helm over to a more pulchritudinous watch.
Aye--heavy weather there might well be for the good people of Galveston this Memorial Day weekend. For on the horizon to leeward speed two swift ships, Revolver and the mighty Houdini, like sea-birds skimming the water for prey. And they point to the Strand.
Woe betide the merchants of that hoary avenue, of those innumerable taverns and houses of fleshly indulgences. For pirates stalk silently upon them. Har-Harr.
(Photo courtesy of Phoebe Copeland)
Now for an edition of "Ask yer Captain"...Dear, The Captain,I like riding Houdini. It's a fun boat. But why does everybody else get to sit back there and I have to sit up here? My bum gets splashed.Sincerely,Bow OrnamentDear, Ornament,Tell better stories.Sincerely, The Captain
And so Magellan is back in business. Only now he has another problem--as indicated by the angle of this photo, the Mighty Houdini is behind him. Not where you want to have The Captain and his cut-throat crew on a bright day with plenty of wind. We are given to lingering "on station" as we called it in the Navy, only to come gliding down upon you as you sail along enjoying your little sea-visit and a good drink. Suddenly your guest says, "Hey, isn't that boat getting kind of close?" Whereupon you turn to look, only to hear these fateful words from the Hoo: "Helmsman, you'll want a steady hand on that tiller in a moment." But, for you, it's too late. The Mighty Houdini sweeps under your stern and marches windward. In a few seconds, Houdini's sails billow with your wind, your sails luff and slap. You turn off, but to no avail. Without your wind, you're going dead in the water. Your ship is at our mercy. And so begins the broadside--a good soaking from Houdini's expert gunnery team and its long nines. (Two giant super-soaker water guns).
One reason to sail--the refined pleasures of a well-balanced vessel on a quiet beam reach in the sun....
Then, of course, there's the scenery to be enjoyed...
And then there are the occasional porpoise escorts....
And then there's the real reason The Captain sails...
"So Steve goes, 'Yeah, but we don't need any tow insurance. I've got the engine running just like it's supposed to.'"
---Tracie Boyd aka Thumper, Crew, co-owner and advisor aboard Revolver
So this is what it feels like to have power. I think I like this.
--Steve Boyd, aka Magellan, Skipper of Alberg 30, Revolver
Revolver, my friend Magellan's 12,000 lb Alberg 30, seemed at first to resist the pull like a jetty boulder. The line from his bow to the stern cleat of my 17 ft bay boat was tight as a guitar string, and Tracie, standing over it, seemed to be oblivious to the huge momentary forces developing just a few inches from her feet. I wondered if the stern cleat would fail under the increasing strain and suddenly rocket off my boat, shooting the line back to Tracy like a big limp arrow--with a nice hard, double-pointed cleat on the business end. If that happened, Tracie might find herself decked with a nasty headache or an impressive bruise or a damned fine gash. And Magellan might learn the ultimate meanings of mutiny and "a wife with an agenda".
But Revolver slowly began to float to us--and then the abrupt physics of a 2-knot current and the inertia of Revolver's lumbering 6-ton bulk took command of my 600 lb bay boat. So the barking my Nearly Perfect Wife loves so much began in earnest. Under the concerted forces of Revolver and the current, my little fishing boat began a quick 360 degree spin. The stern line began its inevitable sweep across the deck to the console and I was yelling, "Cast off! Cast off now, ye wogs!"
Annette (The Nearly Perfect Wife) was quick at the stern and saved us a good pinching, but the fun was only starting. That damnable current set us on a fine trip down the channel, toward restaraunt decks, rocks, bidge supports, broken pilings and at least one john boat full of oblivious fishermen who might find themselves with the biggest catch of the day if somebody didn't move soon.
But the channel gods seemed to be dozing. The current carried us between the pilings and the bridge supports and past the restaraunt dock and its lunchtime watchers of our little mid-channel waltz. We had time to get the fenders out so we might raft the boats, and let Magellan steer us as I provided propulsion. The pace got downright leisurely for a minute--when another sailboat, whose skipper was inattentive enough to make his track downwind of our drift, appeared in the cut from the channel--and he was coming fast. He seemed completely at ease with the idea of a heavy disabled sailboat perhaps blowing right down on him. Must have had insurance or beer on board.
At that I said, "I don't mean to be rude, but you people are going to have to move faster--we have a sailboat without a clue coming on, wind and current taking us to him and to those rocks over there and we are running out of room fast." And with that Tracie and Annette tied stern and bow lines between the two boats as quickly as any seasoned boatswain's mate. I barked, "Watch your hands!" and throttled-up.
And with that, Revolver came along quietly, in the way a big friendly drunk allows himself to be maneuvered into his bed to sleep it off.
But for Magellan--ah, his fun is only beginning. Now Tracie has a cause. It's called tow insurance.
It seems logical that a blog about a boy and his boat should include some information about the boat--perhaps more about the boat than about the boy.
About the Pearson Ariel. As I recall, the Ariel production run lasted from 1961 through 1968. I believe about 600 were built. Nowadays they are found in various states of repair as far away as Australia--though there may be even more exotic anchorages sporting the fine lines of these little boats. These venerable little ships certainly have big trips in them, as many ocean sailors have proved.
The Ariel is a little masterpiece of sailboat design from one of the gods of naval architecture, Carl Alberg. Too, they are lucky technological accidents, in a way, since they were built before the technical data on fiberglass tensile strength was well known. As a result of this information shortage, the hulls were built to thicknesses that would have been used if the boats had been destined for wooden construction.
That means these hulls are really thick--and therefore incredibly tough and stiff--and certainly long-lived. By contrast, modern sailboat hull thickness is a fraction of what you'll find in the old Ariel or her big sister Triton, or that other luminary in the Pearson Sailboat roster, the Vanguard (designed by another naval giant, Rhodes).
Compared to modern designs, Ariels are narrow in the beam (appr0x 8 ft), but they are heavy. Houdini weighs approx 6000 lbs at 26 ft in length. The Ariel draft is about 4'. Because of their design and comparatively heavy weight, Houdini (as do all Ariels) shows wonderful sea-keeping qualities. Ariel owners report going to sea (for example a trek from San Francisco to Hawaii), having storms fall upon them with 20-foot waves, heaving-to and feeling safe as pelicans while the ocean raged all around them--all because the boat is so stiff and stable. They just don't make 'em like that anymore--unless you want to pony-up $135,000.00 or so for the newer designs in boats of approximately the same size.
For now, the inestimable Houdini (Ariel# 407) is docked at Watergate Marina in Kemah, TX. I sail her on Galveston Bay, with the occasional trip into the Gulf. We'll do more of that as the Executive Officer (and NearlyPerfect Wife) gets more comfortable with the notion of being on the briny well beyond sight of land. When not sailing her (the boat, that is) I am pampering her. She gets new varnish regularly, the engine is kept to original standards, the lines are replaced as a matter of routine--and all the other little things that make her the local flagship of these fine boats get their turns under the Captain's watchful and obsessive eye.
