Boat Filming Techniques

I've had a lot one request to shoot a video of Jakatar's interior. What's so special about it? Not much. Despite that humble fact, the video is truly amazing crappy. If you can force yourself to watch it until the very end, you may have what it takes to cross an ocean on a really slow sailboat under constant rain.

I was planning on adding a voice-over narration at home. Since Windows Moviemaker doesn't have that feature, I used subtitles and really boring music.

If you can watch this you can watch anything! And please, do not get distracted by all the electronic gadgets.

The sailing community is full of eccentrics, but none like the transient sailor who arrived in Peniche the other day. He walks into town wearing an inflatable life-jacket (crotch strap, harness...the works), sits down at a restaurant, eats a meal very well irrigated with wine and then wobbles back to his boat grinning like mad all harnessed up.

Moving right along. After having been tied up to the dock for about 10 years, the Norwegian tank, Bonanza, sailed motored against the wind headed to Norway. I hear it's cold up there, but Norwegians seem to like live with it...seals do too.

That's Bonanza on the right getting ready to head north.

A boat parked at the transient dock got me thinking about the classic vs. plastic controversy that usually rages in the community of highly opinionated boat owners. Although the new plastic boats make a lot of sense from a maintenance and simplicity perspective, they just don't cut it when it comes to setting one's wanderlust hormones on fire.

The beauty and the...hmmm...plastic tub facing it. Sophia Loren meets Twiggy.

My trip to Nazaré is being delayed by weather, ocean conditions (going north with an unreliable transmission), work and other hassles that must be attended to.

And one more thing. The blue stripe on my boat gets very hot in the sun and, as a result, the underlying gelcoat is crazing badly. Ryker brought this to my attention. I must be going blind becaused I never noticed it.

Went to a large Aki hardware store thinking they'd have a huge selection of paints (and they do - interior paints). The smallest can of exterior paint comes in a 5-litre can. Makes sense, right? Who's going to paint a house with 1 litre? 

Boat Maintenance for Dummies

I have friends whose sailboats look shiny and tidy rain or shine. My boat, on the other hand, is a perpetual disgrace. I'm always fifteen projects behind and no hope of catching up. It just occurred to me that the boat owns me; it's a 39-foot, 11-ton parasite and I'm the host that keeps it alive and floating.

If I had more time, more money or six muscular arms equipped with power tools, brushes and scrapers - and wings to work on the 51-foot mast...But MORE TIME is the only realistic goal to shoot for. I'm working on it.

I'm in the process of scraping the flaking paint to prevent corrosion caused by salt and water trapped in paint bubbles.

My mast has a bad rash. It's taken hold mostly on either side of the sail track which I painted in 2007. Let me bore you with my existential experience six years ago when I unstepped the mast, sanded all the bad spots, degreased it, washed it and, under ideal conditions, applied International's two-part etch primer. 

The instructions said something like this: "once applied, the etch primer should change from bright yellow to dark yellow within about 30 minutes. If it doesn't, it hasn't catalyzed and must be sanded off to the bare aluminum and redone."

Guess what? After staring at it apprehensively for 40 minutes, it remained exactly the same shade of yellow as when I applied it, exactly the same! I stood there feeling as if I and my yellow-streaked mast were the only two objects on earth - nothing else in the universe mattered except me and the stubborn yellow etch primer. 

I read the instructions at least ten times, stared at the yellow color until my eyeballs were ready to pop out. What's going on!!!! What am I going to do now?

I did what imbeciles and idiots do; I convinced myself that it couldn't be true. I even whipped up a used-car-salesman theory: it didn't catalyze because I had sanded the aluminum powder coating and that's what the etch primer was supposed to react with. It'll be OK. What an idiot!

Did I tell you my mainsail cover's zipper was thoroughly destroyed by this winter's strong winds.

A creative way to live without a zipper.

Is that rust on 316 stainless steel? A new meaning for stain-less, since it could also stain-more, but I doubt it.

Stainless. Why is it stained again? I cleaned it last year.

Then there's the dungeon. I always keep this door closed, and if a guest asks me what's in there, I say "a boogeyman, don't open it!"

Simply disgraceful.

I removed all the junk to measure the anode bolts so I can buy a replacement before the haultout. I have a huge anode bolted to the outside of the hull which is connected to nearly all metal parts via a thick copper cable running through the bilge and branching off everywhere, terminating at a grounding plate near the mast support. 

I've been told this is bad, and I've been told that it's good. I figure it's "better than worse".  Americans seem to favor bonding all metal parts, Europeans have a more laid back approach and tend to believe that bonding will launch all your metals into a galvanic corrosion war. I was educated in Canada, so what would you expect me to choose?

I removed everything to get at the bolts under a removable plywood floor.

7-inch gap. Digital cameras make everything look so filthy.

Then I put everything back just the way it was. What else would I do? Remember, I got no time - I'm an overworked translator.

Now here's the final touch. The exposed chain is so rusty that I'm trying to conceal it in a rag. I guess I'll have to change it end over end at Nazaré, get the rusty part in the chain locker attached to a U-bolt and bring out the shiny galvanized end for my shiny new Rocna anchor. 

My manual Tiger windlass is also in desperate need of some TLC. Even the lock by my foot is rusty - there's just no end to this mess. Plus, there's another boogeyman in the starboard sail locker - a dinghy that looks like it was salvaged from  a garbage dump.

The secret is not to zoom in on anything specific and, voilá, it looks presentable, sort of. Maybe that's why I like anchoring in the Algarve - I don't have to put up with highbrow marina neighbors sipping cold cocktails in the large luxurious cockpits of their shiny production boats looking down their noses at me (my boat, I mean - I still look respectable).

IF ONLY I HAD MORE TIME.

Visiting the Algarve



Albufeira Beach - the manicured look.

All of sudden I decided we needed to drive down to the Algarve. I needed new flares, some mast paint primer, a shackle and whatever else I found irresistible to blow my hard-earned money. Obviously, it was merely an excuse for a change of scenery.

I've been sailing to the Algarve for the last 10 years, so I thought it would be fun to drive down for a change. Let me tell you, there's no comparison: no fishing nets, no lobster traps, to howling winds near the capes, no rolling motion, no work raising and lowering sails. Right!

The Ayamar shop run by a Dutch couple where I had reserved the flares closed at 1:00 pm Portuguese time and did not reopen in the afternoon. That's why we got up at 6 and drove non-stop to Ayamonte on the Spanish side of the river.

When we arrived in the outskirts of town, the road was restricted to one lane, traffic was being stopped by police at intersections and there was a huge traffic jam as far a we could see. Cyclists in tight colorful spandex were zipping by on the closed lanes on fancy bikes.

The shop is smack downtown opposite the marina. My body temperature began to rise when it hit me that we might not get there on time. But we did.

Ayamonte Marina opposite the Ayamar Marine Shop.

The friendly Dutch couple had the Interprotect primer I wanted but only in a 2.5 l can, so the husband convinced me that Perfection paint was just what I wanted.

"See," he pointed to the can, "it says undercoat. It's better than Interprotect, that's why it's more expensive."

Forty-nine euros for a 750 ml can. And guess what? It's not a primer - it's an undercoat to be used after the primer. Lesson learned: undercoat is what you wear under your coat and not against your body. Won't forget it in the future.

During the rest of the weekend trip we did what non-boaters do when on holiday.

View from our studio apartment in Praia da Oura, Central Algarve.

What's there not to smile about. Plus, I don't have to worry about the jeep dragging anchor!

Albufeira has mostly English names, English breakfast, English beer, Chips...you get my drift, right.

Having lunch in Salema - Western Algarve - one of my favorite places. If it only had a bay to anchor, although you can anchor off the beach in good weather.

The Salema fishing fleet.

Micron Extra vs Plastimo Classic

It could - and should - have a been a good day despite the cool and rainy weather for this time of year. The plan was to fine-tune a small book I had just translated and to pressure wash my dirty boat before sailing to Nazaré next week.

Fishermen sorting out their nets or whatever they do...later in the day some of them were sitting on the ground mending holes.

The marina gate was half open - a bad sign. And, just as I suspected, there was no electricity. So, there I was: laptop and lunch bag in hand, the power washer in the jeep, eager to get the ball rolling. But there's no power. Checked the breakers in the panel by the boat - all of which were pointing up and functional.

I then checked the main switchboard by the gate; the breakers were all down and dysfunctional. What you do is switch on individual sectors until you find the one that's tripping the system, being careful not to touch any exposed wires and getting fried in the process.

No luck. Click, click, click...none of them would stay up. Tried different combinations. Nothing. Damn it, don't tell me I have to drive back home. I couldn't go back to my office, I live for my boat day. How anybody can live without the hassles and expense of a naked sailboat is beyond me!

Instead, I went to pick up my Plastimo Classic antifouling paint at Luis' shop. Yeah, that's right, I'm going with cheap paint this time. It might be a stupid idea when you calculate the cost of hauling out, but I'm willing to take a chance on being stupid this year. I normally spend big bucks on International's Micron Extra paint and haul out every two or three years...which also entails lots of diving to scrape growth off the hull and propeller, not to speak of sailing slower after the first season no matter how much you scrape. We'll see what works best.

A Visit by Captain Joe Aston

Captain Joe Aston and s/v Anna M putting the squeeze on Jakatar.

The mobile rang Saturday at about 11:00 while I was pounding the keyboard working on a translation with a tight deadline. It was David.

"Hello."

"I'm at the marina and it's nearly blowing a storm here."

"Yeah I know, I can see the whitecaps from my office window."

"There are two big boats - I mean bigger than yours - tied up to Jakatar, and the wind is squeezing the crap out of your fenders."

"Why aren't those idiots at the transient dock?"

"It's crowded with smaller boats...besides, your boat is the perfect dock."

He assured me that, other than the flattened fenders, everything was OK.

I thought about the sign "Private, No Parking" hanging from Jakatar's rail and my stomach began to tighten. But I had a job to finish. The clock was ticking and I didn't have time to drive out there, shake my fist and call them a bunch of yahoos.

The Brazilian Bellatrix was also involved in the cozy threesome until the marina staff pulled her across the entrance channel.

In the afternoon the club's vice-president also called me. He told me the same thing as David and said he had called the marine police. These skippers - Brazilian and Irish - were blocking the marina entrance and putting too much pressure on dock fingers not built for three boats in 45 knots.

The happy ending...I hope.

The vice-president called me later. They had pulled the Brazilian a few meters across the entrance channel an tied it alongside the Wauquiez sailboat on the transient dock. Joe, the Irish guy, refused to move. He claimed that in storm conditions safety was more important than rules. The police noted his name and vessel and told him he'd be responsible for any damage.

This morning I finished the translation and drove to Peniche. The wind had abated to about 25 knots. All seemed well and I didn't bother knocking on the Irish fellow's boat. What for? What was I going to do...and what could he do. Well, he should have placed a couple of his fenders between my boat and the dock to distribute the pressure. But that's something only really considerate people do; most people don't give a damn about others even when they're trespassing. That's the world we live in - take it or leave it, no sense whining about it too much.

I came home, Googled around and found out that Joe Aston is a sailor with an interesting, if not eccentric, background. Here's some information I dug up:

Anna M is licensed for 7 passengers, and Skipper Joe Aston has an Irish Sailing Association endorsed ticket for taking passengers to sea. Fiona [his wife, I presume], who is registered with the Irish Society of Homeopaths and holds an ITEC qualification in Indian head and holistic massage, offers these treatments from Horseshoe Cottage. Joe is a writer who has just published his first novel, Wavedancing, and with Anna M has featured in the film The Return of the Humpback Whale and the photographic book The Islands of Ireland. Buy Wavedancing diret from Joe or via Amazon. He runs the Gannetsway editorial and translation services. 

I also read that he was a goat farmer, a journalist and a couple other things I can't remember now. I have short memory.

Here's a video of Anna M and Joe sailing in rough weather. Have a good trip Joe, just don't scratch my boat on the way out.

Psyched Up for a Haulout

Just another Thursday - my boat day. I'm getting psyched up for the haulout and hyped about my yearly sail to the Algarve. Even though I'm a boat/translation slave, I do have a dream; it may not be a big deal, but it's better than nothing.

I walked down the marina ramp, along the pontoon, glanced at the transient dock and immediately noticed that the rescued yawl had left. Gone...where? How?

I finally spotted it sitting high and dry at the shipyard. At least that's some progress.

Yawl on the hard in the very center - white hull dark bottom.

Ryker later told me that its shaft strut was very loose, as in dangling loose. Maybe that's why it began taking on water before the rescue. Who knows?

At the boat, I was welcomed by the smell of varnished wood, a scent that beats any incense sold at Chinese shops. Some guests say that there's a faint odor of diesel and mold; luckily I don't notice it, or maybe I don't mind it. There is one undeniable fact - the boat is alive: it moves, smells, makes noises and has its own personality.

I set up office in the salon and began translating a public tender as the wind whistled off shrouds and halyards slapped aluminum masts. I began working and soon got used to the rocking hull and groaning dock lines. Occasionally I looked over the laptop to run a complicated sentence through my head and smiled inwardly at the sunlight beaming through the hatches. I belonged here.

I worked hard and steady until noon when my eyes ached and hunger set in. The writing was getting sloppy and I flipped the lid down.

Soon, a pan of fava beans with turkey ham and parsley was sizzling on the alcohol stove while I ate salad and drank red wine. After lunch I didn't want to lie down and have another rock in my stomach. That's what I did last week, that's how I wasted my precious time. Not today.

Out in the cockpit, wincing in the glaring sun, I looked about and then went to explore what I already know in perfect detail. But there's always some transients to see and to get me dreaming of sailing somewhere, anywhere.

Spanish boat in foreground, French steel boat in the background.

A couple more transients - notice the chop.

A couple of days ago I read that Peniche is Portugal's largest fishing port in terms of fish brought into port.

Jakatar - the proper method for placing fenders on a 11-ton boat, close together at the critical spot to distribute the crushing jolts.

Not a bad day. Hope my luck stays with me.

Sailing Tragedy

After translating an annual report for a bank and I'm trashed. I feel like I've been trampled by a buffalo stampede.

That was yesterday morning. Then I drove out to the boat, dispatched a small job aboard, had lunch and spent the afternoon snoozing in the sunny pilothouse. Shouldn't snooze after a meal, I spent the rest of the day feeling like I had swallowed a rock.

Another sailing tragedy took place this week, this time in Figueira da Foz about 55 miles north of here.


A sailor's nightmare

Five crew were on this German sailboat that washed up on shore late in the afternoon. It's an ugly sight, even more so because two men were killed.

The crew broadcast a Mayday, after which a large marine police rib and a lifeboat were dispatched. By the time the rescuers got there the sailboat was already near the breaking waves. When the rib came alongside to rescue the crew, it was flipped over by a large wave.

Rib washed up on the beach flipped over

As a result, one marine policeman and one crew member downed. The other police and crew were hospitalized with hypothermia and/or lacerations.

The news reports provided no information as to the cause of the accident.

As shown in the picture, the boat was dismasted  It would seem that the mast broke when the boat was rolled on the beach. But if that's the case, why didn't they sail away from land before that? Why, why, why. With no information there's no lesson to be learned here.

My guess is that they were motoring toward the port, the engine quit and they failed to immediately put up some sail or the wind was blowing in the wrong direction.

But I do have this to say, most tragedies occur when approaching ports in bad weather. With 5 crew you're likely to have somebody - if not everybody - putting on pressure to go ashore. This is not the best port to visit in bad weather.

Update: at the marina I was told that the boat had been in Peniche and sailed out in bad weather that morning. They had, in fact, planned to land at Figueira da Foz. This information changed my opinion slightly: You have 5 crew on boat going back to Germany, that means 5 times the chance that somebody has to be home by a specific day. That's dangerous.