Sailboat Assets and Liabilities

Another victim of a fouled propeller...Everything that could go wrong went wrong - a one-month saga and still counting in both time and money.

Speaking of expenses, in the "Jakatar World" the year is almost over and it's time to compare sailboat assets and liabilities.

2015 Sailboat Assets

A 500-mile round trip to the Algarve. I departed from Peniche on July 26, returned at the end of August and visited Cascais, Sines, Sagres, Alvor, Albufeira and Culatra. Zero days at marinas, always at anchor, always solo sailing.

During the rest of the year, on average I spent one full day at the boat per week, either translating, just messing around or both.

2015 Sailboat Liabilities

Insurance and marina -----------------------------   2,186

65 m of 10 mm chain -----------------------------      690

Oberdorfer pump N202M7 ----------------------       486*

25 kg Kobra anchor --------------------------------     312

80W Bosch Solar panel+mounting+regulator --     339

Diesel -------------------------------------------------    300

Miscellaneous ---------------------------------------    450

TOTAL ----------------------------------------------- 4,763

* Shipping and customs doubled the pump's retail price.

The Bottom Line

If I didn't have the boat, I'd most likely spend the money on crap I don't need, or even want. It's a reasonable addiction, and I'm sticking to it.

The Dutch Sailor, who is in town, came by the other day, looked up at the mast, frowned at the peeling paint and said: "That sure gives you sore eyes." He's right, Jakatar has the ugliest mast I've ever seen, but I got used to it.

The air has been windy and cool and the ocean rough and wet; instead of going fishing I went for a drive to Baleal with Ana.

Sailing, Fishing and Being Lazy

Peniche in the background, fish lurking somewhere underwater.

Not long ago I wrote a post about the purpose of sailing in which I listed 4 reasons to go sailing ranked according to the "fulfilment/excitement" factor:

1. Cruising 
2. Sailing to a nearby destination and back
3. Racing 
4. Taking the boat out for a relaxing sail

Since then I have discovered 2 more reasons for sailing: 

1. Fishing
2. Escaping boat maintenance tasks (aka being lazy)

The time has come to flash the trench coat and reveal the naked truth.

Not only am I bone-weary tired of boat maintenance, I also discovered fishing. Or maybe I discovered fishing and now I've convinced myself that I'm tired of maintenance work. 

After 14 years of fixing, replacing, sanding, polishing, varnishing, painting and all that stuff, I need a break!

Every summer in the Algarve, in the early morning or early evening, when it's not so hot, you'd see me anchored polishing the stainless, scrubbing the topsides or whatever. Every summer, except for the last two years. So, I suppose my laziness began two years ago. That's about the time when the recently painted mast began blistering and shedding paint real bad. That was a real downer and probably the catalyst for my lethargic ways. I feel lazy and I don't give a shit.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still be doing mechanical maintenance - anything that's important, anything that's really ugly (for example, I do intend to slowly scrape all the paint off the damn mast to a naked pole, and leaving it that way). Other than that, screw it.

So I went fishing the other day and got hooked (lots of puns today). Not hooked on the fishing itself but, instead, on sailing and trolling a couple of lures. 

I didn't get hooked on fishing this summer in the Algarve, where I caught one fish and one seagull (the gull survived unharmed, by the way). I was too busy sailing and having fun being free. But now, back in Peniche, I will either go fishing between my annual trips to the Algarve or the boat will be doomed to collecting cobwebs at the marina.

Not a big catch, but it's a start.

The important part is the sailing part. And since the best speed for trolling is about 3 to 4 knots, I unfurl the genoa and forget about the other sails.

What I need now is a fishing paravane to drive the lure deeper where, hopefully, I'll catch some bass and bigger fish. I may also get some squid lures for days when there's no wind because I love grilled squid...or perhaps I love sitting on the boat indulging, forgetting what's not worth remembering, shedding crap, being still, quiet and appreciative.

As you can see, I don't need much, mostly fair weather and free time.

No Respect

It's autumn and the French cruiser migration has begun. The transient dock is cluttered with interesting and unique steel sailboats skippered by equally idiosyncratic owners. It's like turning the clock back 30 years. I don't speak French and have no clue where they're going.

Speaking of steel boats and winter cruising. Here's a flick about a couple that has been living aboard their home-made steel boat Emerald Steel for over 30 years. The video starts as the usual "here we are sailing" flick until the adrenaline starts to flow at a stormy anchorage. If you're in a rush, just skip to minute 10.

Now forgive me but I'm going to rant about the lack of respect for my naked boat. Despite the "Private, no parking" sign on the transom, I'm nonetheless victim of boaters who see Jakatar as a good docking pontoon. 

A friend of mine used to keep his shiny new Beneteau 50 on a hammerhead berth jut like mine and nobody ever tied up to him. I guess money talks, and real loud too. Everybody knows the score. If given the choice would you tie up to a shiny luxurious boat or to an older scuffed-looking boat?

The result is shown below. I'd love to "speak" to the ass who tied up to Jakatar using tar-encrusted fenders. No respect, I tell you. Assholes should be blacklisted from marinas.

More bitching. Because my berth's south finger is falling apart, I'm now tied only to the north finger and the pontoon. That's because when fingers break away from the pontoon, they flip on their side. And when that happens, the mussel-encrusted floats or, even worse, the jagged metal attachments will continuously bash against the hull.

The bolts connecting the finger to the pontoon are incredibly sloppy because the connection plates (not visible) have rusted to hell. The finger is so wobbly I nearly fell in the water the other day. Luckily I have enough space to move Jakatar forward. That way I eliminated the strain on the finger and also moved out of contact range in case it goes belly-up.

On the positive side, it's a beautiful warm calm sunny day and it's the 9th of November. 

Choosing a Liveaboard Sailboat and Scratching the Wrong Itch

"Choose your life's mate carefully. From this one decision will come 90 percent of all your happiness or misery. ~ H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
 [edited on October 28]

Part 1: You have some bucks and you want to live aboard (and hopefully cruise near or far)

I've wanted a sailboat since I was a teenager, and a boat like the Hans Christian 43 is what I lusted for. It has the capacity and looks to take you to exotic far-away places safely and in style. In fact, it's sad to see a Hans Christian floating idly at your local marina or mooring field begging to be sailed over the horizon.

Then the French invented this!!

It looks more like a motorboat or a fancy swimming pool deck. It's more likely to induce daydreams of parties and cocktails than the romantic urge to sail to Tahiti.

"What's that? You don't want to sail to Tahiti, not even to Mexico. Really, are you sure?

I must admit that I've never been aboard a Hans Christian, but I do own a Corbin 39 - a canoe-stern go anywhere sailboat that is a poor sailor's version of a Hans Christian, sort of.

But I do have friends with boats similar to the Oceanis 45 shown above; some bigger, some smaller, with either sugar-scoop or fold-out transoms.

I've been on their boats, both sailing and socializing, and I can tell you this: there's no comparison. Not only that, I've found that almost unfailingly they'll dinghy over to my boat or call to invite me to their boat and hardly ever come aboard mine. This includes Manuel on his Beneteau 26.

Could it be I have no fridge and thus no cold beer? No, because I also have good wine. I've concluded that they've become spoiled by the ease of simply stepping aboard into a spacious cockpit and aren't too enthusiastic about climbing a ladder into a gopher hole.

Charming, but a bit crowded for sundowners with friends. Forget dinner parties.

If you haven't experienced both setups, think about situations such as:

• boarding / unboarding from the dinghy, specially for older or less agile people, and I have a friend who can't come aboard because he has a leg problem
• bringing groceries aboard (not to mention an outboard engine or gas bottles), all the more difficult when alone
• eating in the cockpit, and there's nothing like it in good weather
• Sailing with more than 3 crew is too crowded
• I could go on, but why be tedious

The interiors and deck are basically a matter of taste. I personally prefer the Hans Christian's interior, it makes me feel like I'm in a real boat and not in a swanky apartment. Being at home may be more convenient, but not as much fun. That's why you bought a boat.

I truly believe that a sailboat's cockpit can really make a huge difference when living aboard and for coastal cruising.

Part 2: You have some bucks and you want a blue-water cruising boat

Some people may argue that almost all boats are safe for blue-water cruising, it's the crew that counts. There may be some truth to that, but if I were to cross the Atlantic again I'd do it in my Corbin. Even in a storm I always felt safe in that little cockpit. Besides, we never invited anybody aboard, never had dinner parties, didn't go shopping and never used the boarding ladder, thank God. I genuinely think I'd feel scared sailing in the cockpit of the Oceanis 45 shown above being thrown around in 25-foot waves.

If you're crossing oceans, maybe it's not a bad idea to trade off a luxurious setup for a smaller, safer cockpit.

Don't scratch the wrong itch.

Before you rush out to buy a sailboat, maybe you should read How to Buy a Sailboat - Do the Math.

Sorry, gotta go. I can see a bunch of angry sailors running toward me wielding boat hooks.

The Purpose of Sailing

Without purpose there's no motivation, and without motivation there's not much worth doing.

A friendly club regatta is a good way for lazy sailors to hone their sailing skills. I'm a "lazy sailor" (somebody who doesn't bother to tweak sails), but I also detest motoring. I'm happy to be going somewhere in no hurry, preferably under sail. Going half a knot faster does not make me any happier.

The club asked us to motor by this spot for a photograph session. We were a crew of seven, but only two of us knew that lines are placed on winches in a clockwise direction.

But in a regatta, this lazy sailor is like a hound focused on squeezing an extra tenth of a knot out of his cruising boat's sails. Although it may seem a bit silly to get excited about racing in a group of starkly contrasting vessels, the excitement is nonetheless very real. The exhilaration is not so much about winning but, rather, about learning to sail as fast as you can - even if pathetically slow - by tweaking the sails.

So, it seems that sailing with a purpose is more fun and rewarding than, let's say, taking the boat out for a spin. At the moment I can think of only four purposes of sailing, listed by order of decreasing fulfillment/excitement:

1. Cruising 
2. Sailing to a nearby destination and back
3. Racing 
4. Taking the boat out for a relaxing sail

I rated "relaxing sail" last because it's obvious - or it should be to anyone who has owned a sailboat for a while - that sailing is not so much about relaxation as it is about action...and work. Not only that, sailing 5 miles to nowhere and back becomes somewhat tedious after a few outings. Visit just about any marina and see how many sailboats have gone out for a sail on a sunny summer weekend.

You need a purpose. Has anybody ever sailed non-stop half-way across an ocean to the middle of nowhere and then returned home just for the fun of it? Without purpose there's no motivation, and without motivation there's not much worth doing.

Have I digressed? As I was saying, regattas are a good way to improve my sailing skills. And what's really good about it is that next time I sail to a destination, I'll naturally set the sails better and then forget about them out of laziness.

Doing about 4 knots on a close reach in light winds. Not bad for a boat that hasn't had its bottom cleaned in over three years.

We started in last place - as usual and at least by 10 boat lengths - maybe because I have 3 sails to handle. On the other hand, that extra sail may also have helped me finish in third place. Although there were only six boats competing this year, we fulfilled the purpose of not coming last. That honor went to a motorsailer shaped like a pumpkin whose skipper was smiling like mad because he finally had an excuse to hoist his sails and shut off the engine.

Me and my first mate at the dinner party receiving the trophy (which, being made of glass, is not visible and which, in a way is a metaphor for its importance in the whole scheme of things).

Avoiding Ships and Obstacles

After 13 years of part-time ocean cruising, ships still make me nervous - but mainly at night.

But I'm no hero like the skipper in the clip below.

During the day in open water, I assume ships will respect a sailboat's right of way - if sailing - and I also have a clearer picture of where they're heading. If I'm motoring, I assume I can avoid them fairly easy. 

On my way home this year, when I first saw this ship, prior to this picture, I thought it was going to pass in front of me.

In the end, after a few course changes, it steamed past my stern. To think of it, the exact same thing happened last year.

Imagine if this had happened at nigh. I'd be a little nervous to say the least. It makes sense to assume that ships will monitor their radar screens more carefully near land. But then it also makes sense to trust a pit-bull's owner when he tells you that his snarling dog doesn't bite...at least not yet! 

The truth is, just about anything makes me nervous at night, especially when sailing the Portuguese coast which, except for pirates, is mined with a variety of hazards: ships, fishing boats, many lobster pot markers, debris and sleeping skippers on automatic pilot. I'm not kidding. Some years ago while sailing with another 3 boats, we had to dodge a large sailboat that sailed right through us without a soul on deck, nobody, and all sail up.

Then there's a fishing system called "palangre". You see it only when it's right in front of you, if the ocean is calm. Otherwise you don't see it at all. It looks something like the diagram below, except the floats are cork rings about the size of a big doughnut.

The floats fishermen use around here are tiny and laid out at about 20-meter intervals. I don't know how long the surface line is because I never see where they start or end.

Although it's just fishing lines, hooks and small floats, you'd have a hell of a mess if you ever got one rolling in your propeller. Last year I dove down in open water to cut myself free from a thick line leading to a bottom net, but I don't think I'd be too enthusiastic about diving down into a mess of hooks. They're called hooks for a good reason. But you could always sail to the next anchorage, careen the boat on a sand bank and sell the fish.

That's enough pessimism for today. I guess next year I'll be sailing to the Algarve solo again.

Me and My Seagull

"When the seagulls follow the trawler, it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea." ~ Author: Eric Cantona

This year I splurged on a 50-euro fishing licence. My largest catch so far was a seagull.

It's looking at the lure as if to say, "how did I get fooled by this plastic piece of trash?"

I finally hooked a fish in the Algarve (a type of mackerel), which I ate the next day. My plan to live on fish and sprouts fell through for two very simple reasons: I haven't learned how to fish properly and sprouting takes time. Everything boils down to free time.

The 50-euro fish.

Anyway, I caught this mackerel while motorsailing from Culatra to Alvor trailing a lure from a cheap fishing rod. Where there's one fish there's got to be more, so I plunked the lure back in the water, let out plenty of line, and caught a seagull.

It began circling about 60 m behind the boat and, sure enough, it swooped down and hit the water wings wide open. Suddenly I had a seagull on the lure. I was convinced the lure was at least a couple of meters deep like it's suppose to be, and not on the surface. 

Another punch in the gut feeling. Shit, now I'd have to get it on the boat and kill it. What choice did I have? I'd never be able to extract those nasty hooks from its throat without torturing and mutilating it beyond repair. Then I'd surely shoot myself with a hand flare out of remorse. Looking at the panic in its eyes as I reeled it in closer almost made me sick.

I put the engine in neutral, which slowed the boat to 2.5 knots in the light breeze and slowly reeled it in. The poor bird was literally walking on the water, flapping its wings, being pulled by its head held high out of the water. 

But after I had it alongside and raised it onto the deck, it stood on its feet, shook its head and the lure fell to the deck. The hook had merely caught the inner tip of its beak and had been held in place solely by the pressure of the taut line. 

It stood there for a minute or two looking bewildered and then flew away as gracefully as any other gull. As for me, I swore never to fish again. 

But after some experimenting I learned that the lure has to be closer to the boat for its nose paddle to bite and dive. Either that or you need to put a lead on the line. So maybe I will fish again.

I gutted the mackerel and, lacking a fridge, stored it in the cool bilge. The next day in Alvor I cooked a delicious caldeirada and made a toast to the unharmed seagull and wondered whether it would overcome the trauma and ever go fishing again or take to eating discarded fish and garbage like most seagulls do.

How did I feel about the fish, you may ask? A bit sorry at first, but it's not very different from buying a dead fish.