Dictionary.com defines bricolage [bree-kuh-lahzh] as “a construction made of whatever materials are at hand; something created from a variety of available things.” With financial means and healthy supply chains, this definition can have a broad interpretation. But when these break down or are nonexistent, creativity and ingenuity must prevail. Whether sailors or landlubbers, many people are ‘bricolagists,’ and they often have similar materials at hand.
A special thank you to Monica and the crew at ‘Lectronic Latitude, the online counterpart to Latitude 38, for publishing Tales from the Northwest Passage: Arctic ‘Bricolage’, Part 2 on October 21, 2020.
Click Here for a link to the article.
Little Thunderbird I see your face. Little Thunderbird Ready to race. Your suit is creased And your shoes are worn Still you cut the waves For which you were born. * Made fast to the dock You patiently stand Awaiting a skipper To take your hand. Your regular dance The summer through Wednesdays and Fridays Sometimes Saturdays too. Whatever tempo The band will blow You take a deep breath And go on with the show. * Your suit is creased And your shoes are worn Still you cut the waves For which you were born. * When the horns tune up And the downbeat drops You approach the line Pull out all the stops. To starboard you step To port you swing Around the buoy Then back wing on wing. When the band packs up And the floor is clear Another has won But there is no tear. The next time you’re asked You’ll do it again The feel of the music To draw you in. * Your suit is creased And your shoes are worn Still you cut the waves For which you were born. Little Thunderbird I see your face. Little Thunderbird Ready to race. Dedicated to Blackbird Associates
I crabbed the inflatable kayak along the sand bar, looking for a channel. There wasn’t one. The current was against me, spilling over the wide breadth of the cut like a fan, the bottom visible a couple of feet below. I made for the eddies along the starboard shore, staying as close to the bank as possible. It was the inside of the dogleg and offered the most current relief. As I approached the turn, I was forced out into the center of the stream to stay in navigable water. “If I can make way here, I can make it all the way.”
I was paddling the new Oak Bay/ Kilisut Harbor tidal cut between Indian and Marrowstone Islands. This project was spearheaded by the Northern Olympic Salmon Coalition and coordinated with the Washington State Department of Transportation. It involved replacing a causeway with a 450-foot bridge and re-establishing a natural tidal channel between the two islands.
Image: John Gussman – https://nosc.org/restoration/kilisut-harbor-restoration-project/
My journey began the day before when I left Boat Haven on Sampaguita, my Pacific Seacraft Flicka 20, with the Aire inflatable kayak in tow. Strong Labor Day winds blew us quickly to Mystery Bay, where we anchored in the lee of the point, just off the Marine Park dock.
The weather blew itself out that evening and the next morning switched to a light southerly. It could be easily overcome in the kayak and would be a help on the return trip. However, a predicted wind shift to the North in the early afternoon could be a bit more disagreeable.
The first order of business was a paddle to the Nordland General Store for an Americano and a peanut butter cookie. An old-fashioned place with a dock across the street for small boat access that harkens back to the country stores of my youth. With those morning pleasantries taken care of, I headed for the cut.
Mystery Bay is in the middle of Kilisut Harbor, while the cut is at the southern end. I still had a couple of miles to paddle. Just recently opened, I was unaware of any published information about the cut. But embracing the spirit of exploration, I didn’t search too hard. It would be what it was when I got there.
In the center of the tidal stream, with strong and steady strokes, I was able to keep forward motion, crabbing around and across the dogleg to the port side of the cut. The current runs along this edge with a deeper channel, but the uneven shore offers relief eddies. Rounding each mini-point put me right back into the stream, though I never feared I wouldn’t make it.
Prevailing, I rounded the spit to the hazy expanse of Oak Bay and landed the kayak for rest and refreshment. After my summit moment, I pushed the boat off the shore for the return trip. Paddling in the current, making four knots, I descended back into Kilisut Harbor. As I rounded the dogleg, the shallow inside corner that forced me into the current on the incoming trip was now exposed. With the depth decreasing, I was a little concerned about running out of water over the wide, shallow sandbank that extends into Kilisut Harbor. However, the kayak only requires a few inches of depth, and we glided over with no troubles.
I made it back to Mystery Bay just before the winds shifted to the North, having completed the main objective for my holiday weekend. Sampaguita and I would swing on the hook for the rest of the day and head back to Port Townsend the next morning. Paddling a newly accessible stretch of water was exciting, and got lucky with my ‘spirit of exploration’. Judging by the currents and depths witnessed, there are tidal states when it would not be navigable by even small boats.
Besides my amusement, it was evident the cut was also serving the purpose of exchanging water in the Harbor. During my paddle, Scow Bay, the lower half of Kilisut Harbor, was a murky brown with about one foot of visibility. The waters flowing through the cut were crystal clear and mixing in the Bay. With refreshed infrastructure for the islanders, improved water quality and habitat for plants and animals, and a new destination for small boat enthusiasts, I give the new cut a thumbs up.
Here’s some GoPro video of me transiting the cut: (Caution: This might feel like watching paint dry.)
My second attempt (actually my third, but #2 was un-noteworthy due to early becalming and retreat) to circumnavigate Indian and Marrowstone Islands entirely under sail with Sampaguita, my Pacific Seacraft 1985 Flicka 20, was a success.
I departed at 1100 hours, raising the jib as I passed by Boat Haven Fuel Dock. With a full WNW wind and a flooding tide, I sailed down Admiralty Inlet under full sail, making great time. Rounding the southern tip of Marrowstone Island, I tacked up to the entrance of the Port Townsend Ship Canal.
My timing was off, which really meant my departure was a bit too late, and I missed the tidal window by just a few minutes. I was stopped in my tracks halfway through the canal when the current reversed to flood. In combination with a headwind on the nose, it was too much for my full keeled cruiser. With the nature of the local hydraulics, the Admiralty Inlet and Port Townsend Ship Canal currents are not in synchronization, one of the dynamics which makes the trip exclusively under sail challenging.
Rather than give up and engage the motor, I retreated, dropped the anchor, ate dinner, read a few chapters from Ginnah Howard’s book, Doing Time Outside, and snoozed. I just had to wait it out.
With the evening getting on, I pulled up the anchor and tacked back and forth at the entrance of the Port Townsend Ship Canal. I challenged the current, waiting for it to wane just enough to allow me in. With less than three hundred feet of width in the canal, tacking was early and often. I could hold my own, and even make a bit of headway with the sails powered up. But each time I tacked, the current would sweep me back.
Around 2100 hours, I was able to make my move. Avoiding the riprap, the shallow edges, the bridge pilings, and the day markers, I short tacked my way through the canal around slack water.
A gusting wind on the north side asked for a reef in the main, but the direction was nearly optimal. Only two tacks were required to make a beeline for Boat Haven and avoid the flashing blue lights of the Indian Island Navy Patrol Boats.
With fading twilight and a last-minute second reef as I close-hauled up the breakwater, I closed the circle at the entrance of Boat Haven. I dropped the sails and pulled into the slip as the Port Townsend bell tower struck the 11th hour.
I was pleased to succeed but would have preferred to have had better timing and a faster journey. I suppose I’ll have to give it another go.
Trip Odometer – 29.31 NM, Max. Speed – 6.2 kts., Moving Ave. – 3.1 kts, Moving Time – 9 hours, 20 minutes, Total Time – 12 hours
When Captain Olivier Huin asked me to secure the gear on the deck of Breskell for her transit through the Northwest Passage in 2019, I was happy I knew my knots. A special thank you to Adam Cort for publishing my article, Marlinspike Seamanship in the Arctic, in the June 2020, (Vol. 51, #6) issue of Sail Magazine.
Here is a link: https://www.sailmagazine.com/diy/know-how-marlinspike-seamanship-in-the-arctic
The article is about getting creative when securing deck gear and gives insight to an angle of logistics for offshore sailors. It involves seamanship, marlinspike, and making do with what you have. I hope you enjoy and are inspired to take on your own adventures.
Sail Magazine is available through subscription and where sailing magazines are sold.
I would like to thank Joe Cline, Andy Cross, and all the crew at 48° North for choosing and publishing my poem about the meaning of May. It appears in the Lifestyle section of their online version, dated May 14, 2020. You can view it by clicking this link:
48north.com
48° North is a long time Pacific Northwest sailing magazine, which in 2018 became part of The Northwest Maritime Center in Port Townsend, WA. Even more recently, they brought in Pacific Northwest’s biggest boating website, Three Sheets Northwest, combining to bring you both analog and digital formats under one name. I have been fortunate enough to have been published in both.
Thank you for taking the time to check it out.
When you have an itch, scratch it. When you have a rub, guard it. Chafe is your enemy. The Resourceful Sailor has a new installment available on Latitude 38′s online magazine, ‘Lectronic Latitude. A special thanks to the crew and Tim Henry for keeping the sails full in these curious times. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for checking it out.
CLICK HERE for the link to the article.
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.
Video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stDaGMOuPsM
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.
Video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xs9zXyck8rI
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.
Photo by Eric Maffre, 2019
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…..
sailingwithjosh
Sailing With Josh 