Tall Ship Window View

It's been a mad week of work. I'll spare you the details...besides, I haven't got the time to describe how I'm in slave mode in exchange for peanuts, mere peanuts.

The stock market plan is on hold too. I'm waiting for some stocks to take a seriously deep dive, but they're just bouncing around going nowhere fast.

I'm taking a short break because this ship just sailed across my window.

Tall ship going towards Peniche

I know, it looks like a fuzzy box! But peanuts don't buy fancy Canon cameras. It's got all sails up and looked more exciting from here in real life.

I was going to wait for the sun to light up its sails pure white, but I don't even have the time for such a small luxury.

The Yellow Sailboat

Why am I smiling?

Headroom problem, size matters (either me or the boat or both)

I'm actually laughing and smiling. I'm laughing because I can't stand up completely straight in a 39-foot boat (OK, I'm tall, but man the boat is 39 feet long). I'm smiling because it's a beautiful day, I have no work and I decided to be lazy for the day. Lucky dude!

It didn't take long for the smile to evaporate. "Pling," a translation made it's way to the marina through thin air. Nowhere to hide these days. But in truth, work is slowing down and I'm actually not really pissed about getting some.

It was a small job I dispatched in an hour just in time for lunch.

Sticking to my routine, after lunch I scrambled out of my low-ceiling habitat and into a gorgeous day.

I want to show you a work of art built by a Russian boat builder. I call it the yellow rocket.

The yellow rocket

I'd wager nobody has ever built a boat like this one...and never will again. But you never know.

The Norwegian Tank

Here's another boat owned by a Norwegian who visits once in a while. He's been working...I mean he's had a retired boat carpenter working on it off-and-on for about 10 years. Interestingly, in all this time he went sailing once during a gale. According to him, its a really heavy boat and needs a lot of wind.

Here's how it went. He, the carpenter and another local headed toward the Berlenga Island under a howling wind. They attempted to reef the genoa but the furler got stuck, thus dooming the sail to a quick and violent flogging death. I can imagine the deafening firecracker-like whiplashing all too well.

So they started the engine. But, in keeping with Murphy's law, the exhaust elbow blew the hose out and started pumping smoke and water into the boat.

There they were, the shredded genoa crackling in the fierce wind, the boat filling with hot water and smoke while being driven toward a lee shore mighty fast.

Time for the dreaded "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday this is....help!!!!"

So the ugly and obscenely powerful lifeboat (which looks like a square box with a cabin) rushes out, throws them a thick line and starts to tow them to safety. Did I mention the gale force wind, the waves and the fact that the boat weighs 30 tons. The line stretched until it was real thin and snapped.

The shore is just spitting distance away...spit travels quite far in howling wind.

So the lifeboat comes around again and this time throws them two thick lines and tows them away from a rocky shore just in time.

Meanwhile, there were a few live media reports saying things such as "boat on fire off the coast of Peniche," "Sailboat sinking outside Peniche" and a few other attention grabbers.

They haven't gone sailing or motoring since then, but maybe they're waiting for another gale this winter.

I feel like a detective today. Look at what else I found.

Back stay of a 36-foot Wauquiez. Notice the stainless shackle linking the chain to the turnbuckle.

In another post I already described how this guy's mast toppled over when the back stay snapped. Amazingly, the boat suffered very little damage and the mast endured the ordeal almost without a scratch.

How long will this shackle last? If the boat sits at the marina or never gets sailed hard, maybe for decades. I zoomed in and the shackle looks larger than it really is and was most likely made in China. According to my parts catalogue, it has a safe working load of about 1,000 kg. The shock force or an accidental jibe will most likely exceed that by far. It will probably last a lifetime and I'm just being a doomsayer.

A real cruising boat. If not, it looks the part

Went back to the boat, lay down in the sunny pilothouse and took a shot at learning to use my new mobile phone. It's a Samsung Chat@t322 which I got for 50 euros with 50 euros worth of credit. So, essentially, I got it for free. It takes two SIM cards from different service providers. But look at those tiny keys! My index finger covers 3 at a time and I can't see the letter or numbers stamped on them without glasses and good light, and even then just barely.

I zoomed in, it's smaller than it looks.

I had my other 24-euro phone for years and I repent getting this one, even though it was free and will allow me to make cheaper calls. It also takes pictures, so that might be useful some day. See, it's really easy to pluck a justification out of your pocket along with the cash.

Smaller Boat

After an invigorating one-hour bicycle ride to Lourinha and surrounding area, Ana and I stopped at the promenade along the main beach.

Praia da Areia Branca, South Beach (plus Ana's hair to the right)

Promenade looking north, the crowd is at the far end by the cafés

A little later, from up top we gazed at the surfers and I thought about Jakatar tied up at the marina on this beautiful day for sailing. I thought of how I don't get excited about 2-hour sails going nowhere and all the work it entails in getting the boat ready and then packing everything up again. A small boat would be fun, but my 11-ton cruising machine was built for voyaging.

How about surfing, I thought? At my age, I'd feel like a dipstick on a surfboard. Besides, the water is too cold for my taste. The answer is a kayak. I found two second-hand Bic Ouassou kayaks going for 200 euros each. That may be the ticket. Easy to carry on the jeep rooftop, no maintenance and I can take it on Jakatar on my next trip.

Why stand and fall when you can sit and paddle and keep your hair dry

Magic Ocean View

Are you getting bored with your window view? Here's a better one to cheer you up.

From my place it's a 30-minute walk along the beach at low tide, but I usually take the cliff-side road.

If the tide isn't low, I (usually Ana and I) have to scramble over two outcrops of slippery rocks which is kind of fun at first but then becomes "repetitive fun" - otherwise work.

On to the real topic of the day. I know...I know, I'm suppose to stick to one theme, but this is my blog and, like my life, linearity doesn't apply.

I'm on the boat in Peniche watching the battery charge. Contrary to common sense, I'm still using a car charger. But, since I'm not totally dumb, now I disconnect the battery so that any potential ground leaks can't eat away at my precious underwater metals.

I'd like to get the battery bubbling a bit to prevent calcification (or whatever you call it) but coupling a 5 amp charger to a 220 amp battery is like trying to fill a pool with a beach pail. I'm lucky to get it to 13.8 volts by the end of the day.

Then I hear the email "pling" on the computer and sure enough I have a small translation that lasted until lunch.

After lunch I went for a walk along the breakwater to look around.




Catamaran entering the port. Lots of transient traffic even this time of year.

Water gurgling from holes on marina side. The waves force water through a 20 m wide breakwater which must be riddled with cracks and hollow areas.

Black Turnstone birds on the dock. Took a bit of Googling to find their names.

Got back to the boat and another small translation was waiting for me which I quickly dispatched.

Dried the bilges (4 different compartments with two automatic electric bilge pumps), ran the engine in reverse for 10 minutes, packed up and went home. Picked a basket of figs and a bag of quince at the farm on the way.

Temporary Mooring in Alvor

I took a break from doing a translation, stepped into the cockpit and shot this crappy video. The film is shaky because the boat wouldn't lie still. Got to blame something, right?

360º view of Peniche Marina and Port



Even though I've only done one minor translation since last Friday, I haven't accomplishing much of anything since then, except receive some tourists for two units, got into an e-mail marathon with a third tourist that's coming next week and...do you really want to hear more?

Changing the subject to something worthwhile.

Since I plan to drop a mooring in Alvor next spring to keep the boat there during the summer, I've been spending a lot of time planning the perfect mobile mooring I can carry on the boat 175 miles.

Here is the best plan so far: build a 60x60 cm steel grid with 20 cm spikes. Attach an 8-metre 20 mm stud link chain (left over from my last mooring enterprise) to the middle and then attach concrete blocks on top of that.

I'll make the concrete blocks in plastic containers with wire mesh and a protruding nylon rope loop. I'll make lots of them and store them below in all sorts of compartments. This is one of the advantages of owning a small ship.

Once in place, I'll attach a sacrificial line to the grid and lower it to water level, with the heavy chain attached. Then I'll ferry blocks in the dinghy over and chain them on top of the grid and to the heavy chain itself. Next, I'll lower the whole mess to the bottom with the windlass. After everything is ready, I'll dive down cut the sacrificial rope and hope for the best.

With a bit of luck I won't end up like these two boats in Alvor after a winter blow not that long ago.

The 6 Mile Adventure to Paradise Island

Paradise Island

Jakatar is the last sailboat on the left

Sailed with family and friends to the Berlengas Island twice during a 3-week period.

That pretty much summarises Jakatar's voyages outside the Port of Peniche so far this year.

What can I tell you? It's been a dumb year.

This has been a rather unadventurous year. Let's see, I also rented a kayak at Lagoa de Obidos for an hour and buzzed around the port in the dinghy with my 6-year old nephew. He wanted to go faster and complained the engine made too much noise.

Me, I've got no complaints. After all, what's to grumble about when you live like a yard dog.

A little close, wouldn't you say

I sat in the cockpit watching this act of "disgrace". Incredibly, I took this shot and then my camera's battery died. How did that happen? The other pictures were taken on the first trip.

The sailboat was anchored nearly on top of a vacant mooring belonging to a tourist boat. When the tourist boat arrived, the respective owners began arguing...what else would they do? The dumb-ass sailboat owner thought he was entitled to be there simply because he got there first.

The tourist boat owner went ashore on a dinghy and gesticulated to the idiots to keep their boat off.

Went ashore, and when I returned the sailboat was tangled in the other boat's mooring line. The tourist boat owner comes back shaking his head. Other tourist boat owners show up in dinghies and the consequent yelling, rope pulling and fender placing was a real treat to watch.

The only houses and public restaurant on Berlengas. The fort has rooms and a restaurant, but a sign says that the restaurant is for room guests only.

On the first trip an old French boat arrived and, let me tell you, these guys have "tomates". They're motoring close up to the rocks with a lead line measuring the depth wanting to anchor as close as possible. There's only patches of sand near shore but they got great exercise raising and lowering the anchor until giving up and sailing back to Peniche. Not before almost hitting the rocks.

The French Boat, these guys probably wanted to walk ashore

For anyone interested in visiting the Berlengas, here's the ferry on its mooring, which I nearly drifted into while raising the anchor in 20 metres of water. The chain got stuck in rocks and had me worried a couple of times, but the anchor came up fine after a sweaty session at the manual windlass.

Sailing Without an Engine

I selected this post to be featured on my blog’s page at Sailing Blogs.

Sunday, 19 August 2012 - Trip from Lagos (Algarve) to Peniche - about 175 miles

Manuel and I had just cast two fishing lines when his boat engine stopped abruptly about a mile off Cape Espichel.



Toolbox and plastic bag to catch dripping oil

The holidays were nearly over and I was helping Manuel sail (motorsail) his 8-metre Beneteau First from Lagos to Peniche. After arriving at about 12:30 at the Lagos bus station next to the marina, I met Manuel by the lift bridge that we crossed on our way to a restaurant near the boatyard.

After a leisurely grilled fish lunch, we bought some groceries and then dinghied out to his boat that was anchored off the main beach.

Leaving Lagos without a care in the world

Anchorage in Sagres

Sagres is one of my favourite places on earth (I almost started a business there many years ago) and it's always good to come back, even on somebody else's boat.
We went ashore, walked around town, had dinner and retired early for a good night's sleep.

At 5 a.m. the next morning we began the 60-mile motoring trip against a light headwind to Sines where we docked at the Marina. The routine goes something like this: tie up the boat, rinse it with fresh water, check-in at the office, take a shower and walk into town for dinner.

We made a beeline for "Adega de Sines," an ancient restaurant which the owner was smart enough not to renovate. The tables may be only 20 or 30 years old, but the wall and floor tile, marble counter, windows and ceiling decore have that special "other era" look from a time when tourists were not really tourists at all. You know what I mean, I hope.

Unfortunately, the Adega was closed, so we selected our second-favourite restaurant.

The next morning, we motored out in the dark and started a pleasant motoring trip up the coast on a hot sunny day...until the engine died abruptly.

We investigated the problem while rolling in the swell. The fuel filters were clean, the fuel pump was doing its job and the engine temperature felt normal to the touch.

"Push the starter again," Manuel yelled from down below.
"Stop, stop!!! What the hell, there's oil squirting from the rubber seal behind the alternator pulley."

We tried again, but the starter groaned and failed to turn the engine over. The motoring game was over.

We decided to sail in light winds to the fishing port of Sesimbra about 7 miles east where we hoped to get a mechanic to look at it.

The wind totally died about halfway there and Manuel began towing the boat with the dinghy for a while.

Finally, we anchored at the port entrance, went ashore and found a good-natured pot-bellied mechanic who came out with a screw driver and two wrenches wrapped in a rag.

After fiddling around, the mechanic declared that one of three things was broken, but couldn't determine which without opening up the engine.

That settled it. We went shopping for more food and water and sailed out just before night fell.

We tacked our way up in a light air until 5 in the morning when I found myself drifting windless right in the middle of the shipping channel outside the Tagus River. Soon I saw a ship coming right for us going to Lisbon. Not good! Although I don't believe in miracles, the wind slowly picked up and got me out of there as I watched the ship cross the very spot where I had been bobbing around going nowhere.

Later, as the sun rose, the notorious wind and swell south of Cape Roca became our enemy. We figured we'd tack 15 miles west and, by the time we tacked another 15 miles east, we'd clear the nasty stuff. That was the theory anyway. After all, Manuel and I are both fully licenced ocean skippers.

Although his boat sails well, it's light and can't stand up to the push and shove of oncoming waves. So imagine sailing 15 miles northwest and 15 miles northeast and then realising that we had sailed about 5 miles toward our destination!

The good life before the engine died

No engine, no wind...no hurry, I wish I was still there

That's when you appreciate a boat that sails well windward. Now, my Corbin 39 is no sharp pointer, but in this situation it would have held its ground and bashed through the waves.

We spent all day and another night tacking back and forth...back and forth...I'm talking about 10 to 15 mile tacks, clawing up the coast like a crab (did you ever notice that crabs walk sideways).

Our shifts based on "when I wake up I'll come up and take over. If you need any help, just knock." This worked out to 2 to 3-hour shifts.

Then the wind changed to NE a bit, helping us sail a somewhat straight line to Peniche in a now smoother sea.

Alright, I know this story is getting long and boring for blogging standards...so I'll be quick about it.

We tacked our way into the port of Peniche with the wind on the nose in the middle of the night. Manuel at the helm and me at the genoa sheets, almost touching the breakwaters on either side on each tack. Finally we made it inside where we dropped sail. We put the outboard on the dinghy and I pushed him like a tiny tugboat into his slip.

Moral of the story, if you own a sailboat shut off the engine and treat yourself to an adventure. Isn't that what sailing is all about?

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