A boat that wants to achieve balance is motivating, fun, and easy to sail. An endearing quality of Sampaguita, my Pacific Seacraft Flicka 20, is her willingness to steer herself. I remember the feeling of excitement, having just changed boats from a squirrelly Columbia 26 MKii, when I first realized how easy it was to balance the Flicka. It was easy to imagine the fun and freedom I would have. When single-handing in coastal waters, this quality offers some relief from the helm without additional equipment, yet requires enough attentiveness to maintain safe, situational awareness.
I don’t think Sampaguita is an anomaly, so I’ll give kudos to the designer of the Flicka 20, Bruce Bingham, and his muses. New England workboat inspiration for good lines, a full keel for tracking, a bowsprit for a leveraged sail plan, and a large transom hung rudder. All the usual suspects for creating a stable, well-balanced boat. Thanks Bruce.
I have Sampaguita rigged with a touch of weather helm. When I am racing close-hauled(“is he joking?”), I can sheet the main in tight for maximum speed, a little extra heel, and rounding up for overboard safety. But, if I ease the main a bit, we find her sweet spot for balance, and she will happily take over. It backwinds the luff of the main, but creates better flow over the half-battened leech, streaming the telltales off.
Like any sailing partner, there are compromises. If I let her make her own way, we will concede a little in speed and heading. 5-15% and maybe a few degrees, respectively. On an afternoon sail in Port Townsend, when close-hauled with the main sheeted in tight and my fingers always on the tiller, we averaged 4.3 knots. With the main luffed enough to balance a still well-trimmed jib and no hands on the helm, 3.8 knots. If the heading suffered, it was because Sampaguita took a little longer to adjust to variations in the wind and waves than a focused helmsman. Wind speed, point of sail, and wave state are significant variables in performance.
Sampaguita has sailed herself with most sail combinations and on every point, including the asymmetrical spinnaker and wing-and-wing. However, it is most predictable to balance her when she is sailing close-hauled or on a close reach. The 140% genoa and the spinnaker will often overpower the main too much to be hands-free. A combination of the 100 or 80% jibs, with the mainsail and its reefs, will usually do the trick.
Understandably, quieter seas are better for balancing, especially when headed off the wind. Reaching and close-hauling, the boat can handle more. I recall sailing across the Strait of Georgia from Nanaimo to Plumper Cove Marine Provincial Park in BC, Canada. We sailed close reached for over ten nautical miles under working jib and a single reefed main with 15-20 knots of SE wind and 2-4 foot seas. The only time I had to adjust the helm was to steer around a fishing buoy directly in our path.
For those readers who are more technically and financially inclined, I have heard of electronic autopilots and self-steering wind vanes. Sampaguita came with an autopilot, but it was not wired safely and hasn’t been repaired. A trim tab wind vane would be well suited for her, but yet to transpire.
For the past seven years, I have enjoyed the simplicity of balancing the boat through sail trim. Simple is more zen for me, I guess. I am always impressed by how well Sampaguita handles herself and what a pleasure she is to sail.
Bricolage – French for Do-It-Yourself! When S/V Breskell transited the Northwest Passage in the summer of 2019, there was a bit of bricolage along the way. The link below offers a new Resourceful Sailor article on Latitude 38‘s online magazine, ‘Lectronic Latitude, highlighting a few examples. Thanks to Tim Henry for publishing it. I hope you enjoy and thanks for checking it out.
Click Here for a link to the article.
My landlubber friends sometimes snicker at me when I ride my folding bike. I hope it’s the bike that is drawing the attention. When compared to a conventional one, the proportions are all wrong. The wheels are small like a BMX bike, but the frame is trying to be adult-sized, with high-rise extensions for the handlebars and the seat. That’s why I have taken to calling it the Circus Bike. However, I haven’t ridden it around the home town much, mostly reserving it for trips aboard Sampaguita. In particular, voyages throughout Puget Sound, the San Juans, Gulf Islands, and the Sunshine Coast. It can be a convenient tool and time saver and good for exercise and entertainment. If you are considering carrying a bicycle on board, I offer these stories with the Circus Bike as an account of possibilities.
Why did I buy a folding bike to carry aboard my boat? When I purchased Sampaguita, a Pacific Seacraft Flicka 20, seven years ago, the seller also offered a folding bike and a Montgomery 7-11 dinghy. The bike was in excellent condition, and the dinghy had a sailing rig. I hadn’t considered having either before, but the price was right. I could sell them if they didn’t work out.
Now I have a bike, where do I put it? Following the previous owner’s lead, I initially stored the Circus Bike, lashed on the settee, next to the companionway. I quickly grew to dislike this location. I got tired of looking at it, and it took up valuable cabin space. If I forgot to lash it, it would fall to the sole. After the second time, I’d had enough. A Flicka’s diminutive size limits the options, but since Sampaguita does not have an inboard motor, I wondered if the Circus Bike might fit into that engine space. The Flicka mold accommodated an engine regardless. If the bike fit, it would be a great out of the way place.
Huh? How do I do that? Here is where it gets very builder specific. Pacific Seacrafts have a removable cockpit sole, held down with four knobs. While this gives full access to the engine space from above, it is an awkward reach. I found that standing inside the cabin and leaning against the companionway ladder, facing aft, I’m able to reach over the bridge. I can leverage my lower body off the bulkhead and ladder to lift the bike in and out. Coincidentally, it is also the best approach to remove and replace the cockpit sole. I put the sole on one side of the cockpit and the bike on the other. After trial and error, I was able to find a way to angle the Circus Bike in. It takes some shuffling around of other gear I stow in there, but everything still fits. I add some padding to protect the contact spots.
When do I use it? Having a bike pays off when tied to a dock. As a convenient, time-saving tool, it can be simpler and faster to use the bike and jerry cans to get gasoline for Sampaguita’s outboard than it is to move the boat to a fuel dock. Pumps aren’t always close. I have also seen them broke and stations out of fuel. Grocery runs have been great too. There is no cab fare and no waiting. For example, I was staying at the Orcas Island Yacht Club in West Sound of Orcas Island. There are no services there, but I was able to ride the bike to the village of East Sound, 6 miles away, for fuel and groceries. And the Orcas Island countryside is beautiful.
What else? I needed to top off my propane tank before I headed up to Princess Louisa Inlet one summer. I had aimed to do this in Port Townsend, but the propane station there was out of order. I waited until Nanaimo, thinking there would be some available there, but the closest filling station turned out to be two miles inland. I was informed taxis may consider a propane tank dangerous cargo and refuse service. Since everything on a Flicka is small, I have the 1.4-gallon, tall and slim, Worthington tank. It fits in my backpack. I used the Circus Bike to get to the station and back. It feels a little dangerous, but probably only marginally more dangerous than a car, and it worked great.
Is it only for work? No, not at all, I have explored many an island and peninsula on the Circus Bike just for fun. Lopez, San Juan, Orcas, Stuart, South Pender, to give just a sample. While docked in Prevost Harbor on Stuart Island, I rode the bike six-miles round-trip to the Turn Point Lighthouse. The bike did well, considering the dirt trail/road was more suited for a mountain bike, with its washouts and hills. Without the bike, I wouldn’t have had time to make the trip.
In Egmont, British Columbia, the bike first served for two gas runs to town. Back Eddy Resort’s gas pump, where I was staying, was broken(I don’t need to make this stuff up.) I then used the bike to get most of the way to Skookumchuck Narrows to watch the kayakers ride the standing waves in the Sechelt tidal rapids. From Back Eddy, it was seven miles round trip. Some of it was paved roads, but the park trail was not. It was early in the season, so I was able to ride on the trail without disturbing others. The Circus Bike got me to the rapids in time for the maximum flood and home for the sunset.
What about at anchor? All of my bike experiences have been with Sampaguita tied to a dock. I use an inflatable kayak when at anchor. The kayak is stable, but it doesn’t feel secure for transporting the bike ashore. I have yet to try this since I am nervous about it going in the water. What about the Montgomery? It was too big for long journeys with the Flicka and too tippy for me, so I sold it to buy the kayak.
If you have a small boat and can find an acceptable place to store a bike aboard, it could expand your shoreside possibilities when cruising. Each boat will require its unique approach to storage, but that is part of the fun of messing about. Whether it be for running errands or exploring, you will be able to travel farther and faster. Mine has a bike rack, so I can strap a small jerry can or a box of groceries to it, in addition to wearing a backpack. Folding bikes look a bit weak to an avid rider, but they are surprisingly strong. I have had mine for seven years. Since I reserve its use for cruising on Sampaguita and as a back up for my regular, land-based bike, it has required little maintenance. I have had to add a shim to one of the folding latches, for a more secure fit, and of course, keep the chain lubricated. Since I store it inside out of the elements, salt has not been an issue.
I have a memory of when I was quite young learning to tie my shoes. It was in the front yard of our Five Maples Farm in Pittsfield, New York, next to maple tree number 4. It was my sister who finally drove the lesson home. Not that she was the first to try. I’m pretty sure she was just fed up with tying them for me.
It occurred to me that many people who say they do not know knots, or can’t tie knots, may not be giving themselves enough credit. If we refer to the definitive guide, The Ashley Book of Knots (ABOK), we can find some of the classic functional knots we may have learned at an early age. We did not learn these knots to master marlinspike seamanship, but rather, to self-sufficiently wear a pair of sneakers.
For example, tying our shoes starts as a Half Knot, ABOK #1202. This progresses to the Bowknot listed as #1212. This is the same knot as #1214, which is the universal way to fasten shoestrings. These are bowed versions of the Reef Knot (or Square Knot, if you prefer), #1204, which could be unwittingly tied as a bowed Granny Knot, #1206. The Reef Knot will lay the bow side to side, the Granny Knot, end to end. Landlubbers “double-knot” their shoestrings to keep them from coming untied, or if they are too long, by adding another Half Knot in the two loops. This is actually called the Shoe Clerk’s Knot, #1215. A friend of mine refers to a Double Bunny to achieve a similar result, which I did not find in the ABOK but is just an additional Bowknot made on top of the first.
Most people have laced their shoes too. For me, #2034 and #2038 are standard. I sometimes do a variation of these not represented in ABOK. I am intrigued by #2033 too. #2035 and #2036 have not yet made it into my repertoire. These are crafted for a tidy look sans the bowed knot, but require more effort adjusting and tightening the laces. #2039 achieves a similar facing look as #2033 but is for shoes with an instep.
I would wager that any adult, and most children, who can tie their own shoes can do it with their eyes closed and the repetitions have made them masters. If someone tells you they don’t know knots, have them tie their shoes. Thanks, Sis.
The total: June 26-Sept. 26, 2019
The refit: June 26-July 16 (21 days)
The voyage: July 17-Sept. 26, 2019 (72 days)
St. John’s, Newfoundland, CA to Port Townsend, Washington, USA, via Greenland and the Northwest Passage.
The miles: 6658(ish) Nautical Miles
The boat: Breskell – an old timey, lo-tech, cold-molded sled
What is next for me? A million dollar question! But no worries….things have a way…..
Another Resourceful Sailor Series article dropped on Latitude 38‘s online magazine, ‘Lectronic Latitude, on August 5th while I was away transiting the Northwest Passage aboard S/V Breskell. It’s called Sacrificial Sliding Hatch. It’s about a quick fix (band-aid) for the erosion that can occur on a Flicka 20 hatch over the decades. Thanks to Tim Henry for the publication(his name mistakenly appears as the author.)
Click Here for a link to the article.
People wonder where the photos are, as if the internet grows on trees. But there are not trees in the Arctic. We landed in Nome yesterday after passing through Bering Strait the day before, which is our official finish line for doing the Northwest Passage. FACT. Here in port are two other boats we had met along the way, also finishers. Altego 2 of the Czech. Rep. and Inook of France. Breskell is on the outside of the raft.
And a picture of me with one of my favorite bad*^s explorers, Roald Amundson.
Three reasons boats might not make it through the Passage this year. 1 – mechanical failure, 2 – poor seamanship, 3 – poor planning. Notice that ice is not one of the reasons.
Our next and final leg is to get the boat to Port Townsend.
Here is the inReach Mapshare URL for following Sailing With Josh as I continue on with Breskell’s 2019 attempt of the Northwest Passage.
You can also follow the Sailing With Josh Facebook page for updates.
We are presently rafted up in Sisimiut, Greenland preparing to depart across Baffin Bay.
Today, I fly to St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada, to meet up with Breskell and Olivier Huin to prepare the vessel for the voyage of a lifetime.
I am sitting at the South Gate, in Sea-Tac airport awaiting my flight. That’s Seattle if you were unsure. My friend dropped me off at 12:15 for my 4:33 flight in an effort to a) miss traffic, b) get me plenty of time to check my gear, c) make it through processing and security in a relaxed manner.
Traffic was not too bad, which I am thankful for, mostly for my friends sake. I was able to check my bags curbside which was a relief, as I had enough gear to make man-hauling a serious chore. I realized I have never traveled by air with this amount of gear. This upcoming sailing endeavor requires being prepared, with limited intel. The gentleman at the kiosk was refreshingly chipper and helpful, and got me checked in with ease. I was concerned about one of the bags being overweight, but alas, it came in spot on the limit. Yes, exactly as planned!
The security check point had an epic line. I had plenty of time, so I decided to remain relaxed about it and roll with the situation. The adage, attitude makes all the difference, applies here. When I finally arrived at Checkpoint #2, I used five bins for my carry-on screening. Shoes, overshirt, toiletries and pull out all of the electronics and other gear that you know will look weird on the x-ray. Like the water bottle with flashlights and batteries inside. In my effort to make it easy and transparent with all the gear, I forgot to remove my belt. Ha, that meant I needed to get the full pat-down with the “second observer.” No worries and no stress though. “What’s that in your pocket?” “Oh, you mean these earplugs?”
One of the carry-ons had to have a personal search too. “Okay, sure.” As the agent unpacked the bag, she found some wet wipes, a last minute addition for which I had checked the TSA website to see if they were admissible. “Oh, this must be it. I’ll just have to swab this” she said. “Sure, okay.” So she swabbed it and, of course, it was fine and she sent me on my way.
My next task was to find my gate, S4. Hmmm, I walked in one direction for about seven minutes before I realized I was headed to N(North) gate. I backtracked and saw the signs for A,B and S gate. So I walked that way for about seven minutes and soon realized it was all A gates. Duh, look at a directory. It turns out that the S gates are the ones you need to get on the train loop for. But, no worries, there’s plenty of time.
So far, so good as I wait for my flight. While things are going well so far, the day of travel has only begun. So much can still happen. Relax and stick to the plan. Enjoy the ride. For now, I am happy to be exiting Ballard and it’s dual culture of progressive expansion and degeneration for parts less populated.