Launching is a curious thing. On one hand you have the anticipation of another great sailing season. After all, once the boat is in the water – summer is practically here, right? On the other hand, you have the worry that something might go wrong. Maybe the engine won’t start. Or maybe those new thru hulls you installed are going to leak. Oh man, did I remember to close that one in the head?!? You know, that sort of thing.

Summer ’05 launch went well. They dropped the boat into the water and after I quickly jumped aboard to check for leaks I was sent down the dock to install the mast. The crane made short work of it, and in about half an hour I was in my home slip – freezing my butt off, but oh so happy. Summer’s here – yaaaah! After celebrating the arrival of summer I jumped into my truck to try to warm up. I guess summer is a little cold this time of year.

At this point, we had not seriously discussed moving aboard. My wife had taken her maternity leave and did not expect to go back to work. I had started my own appliance repair business less than a year earlier and while I was doing well, I did not feel like putting in the long extra hours needed to makeup the money that we would surely need when the maternity ran out. Plus I found spending time with my son and wife rewarding in that I did not miss anything and my wife never really felt alone in raising him. (Mind you, I have no illusions – she did all the hard work.) We had a little brick house in Toronto proper that we had bought some 13 years previously. We did not have the mortgage paid off, but had taken a good piece out of it. Plus the house had grown in value somewhat. What to do? Do we move away – to some area of the country where living was cheaper? Would A. have to go back to work and little L. go to daycare? (In my mind, this was never an option.) Should we sell the house and just find a cheap apartment somewhere? None of these sounded good to us.

Then there was “the plan” (see the post titled Where to Start … Some History.) Were we still going to sail around the world? We had the boat… Well, if one were going to sail for a great distance and for a great period of time, it would be good thing to do a bit of a trial run, right? Slowly, the idea began to filter into our minds that we could solve our living arrangement problems and continue the sail around the world dream all in one move. And that is how we got to the point of thinking that this might be the perfect time to try out living on a sailboat.

To be perfectly honest with you, I was shocked that A. was willing to give it a whirl. With all she was going through – giving birth and being on call 24/7 to feed the boy, I never dreamt that she would seriously consider it. But consider she did and shock me she did. I guess I should not have been too surprised. In our time together, A. had always had an adventurous side. She more than I sometimes. I tend to become a bit of a homebody although once I get going I always end up asking myself, “what took so long”?

So that ended up being the plan. Sell the house, pay off all our debts and move aboard the sailboat. A mighty plan it was!

Up next: Break it to me gently – telling our parents.

I had covered the boat for winter using a big blue Canadian Tire tarp supported by electrical conduit pipes bent over into upside down “U” shapes. I used four of these hoops which in hind sight were not enough. I should have used maybe five or six.

I checked up on the boat on a regular basis, and while I found sometimes a knot had come loose and a corner was flapping, it generally did the job of keeping the snow off the boat. As winter wore on and less snow fell, I checked in on her less often. Big mistake! What happened was, we had a big wet heavy dump of snow – the kind that feels like you are shoveling cement – followed by a day long heavy rain. Then everything froze again. I did not think too much of it. My sister was visiting from out of town so we thought we would show her the boat. As we pulled up, something did not look right. The back end of the tarp, (the part covering the cockpit) was all caved in and one of the conduit poles was broken and poking through the tarp at a strange angle. I climbed the ladder up to the cockpit with a sense of dread. Sure enough, the tarp had caved in where the poles had broken under the heavy weight of the snow. Then the cockpit filled with water and froze. I had a solid block of ice in the cockpit about 2 1/2 feet wide by 5 feet long by about a foot deep. That was some ice cube! The tarp was frozen into the middle of “The Cube”, so I could not even get into the boat. We went at “The Cube” with hammers and screwdrivers breaking it into manageable hunks that we could throw over the side of the boat.

Finally, we got most of it out and were able to lift the tarp and actually get into the boat. I climbed down inside and lifted the floorboard out of habit just to check for water in the bilge. NO WAY!! The bilge was full up ice almost to the top of the batteries. (Here after to be called Cube 2.) “Cube 2” was not slushy ice either – another solid block. I felt sick to my stomach. It took me two days of chipping, adding hot water then sponging out and using a heater to get “C2” out and to see the bottom of the bilge again. What a job! I guess what happened was, when “The Cube” invaded the cockpit, water was able to flow into the boat around the cockpit seats thus providing the raw material for “C2.”

With “The Cube” and “C2” finally out of my life I got around to looking at the rest of the boat. Looking at the hull I noticed that the antifouling paint had come loose on both sides of the hull in about the same place where “C2” took up residence in the bilge. I guess there had been some expansion after all. I also noticed a crack forming in a strange place further up the keel toward the bow. As I chipped away at this new crack I found that I was actually peeling away what looked to be a layer of fiberglass wrapped around the bottom of the keel running some 6 or 7 feet long. I decided to have the hull checked out by a professional who I hoped would give me some advise on this crack as well.

I met a fiberglass/hull man the next evening at the boat to check it out. He was not worried at all about where the hull had expanded by the bilge, however the crack in the keel did not look good to him. He went at the crack with a 2″ chisel and hammer and in about 30 second had peeled off a huge layer of fiberglass that had been stuck to the bottom of the keel by a previous owner (PO). I guess this layer was part of an old repair that had been done rather poorly in the past. The glass had been laid up right over the gel coat which I understand is a no no. He advised me to peel all the old repair off, then grind the gel coat off and then he would come back and do a proper repair.

I did the required peeling and very quickly found out why he had me do the grinding. I still sometimes close my eyes at night and taste the fiberglass dust and feel the itch and burn of it picking and poking its way into my skin. After cleaning the old area up we noticed that the hull was dripping from a couple of cracks that we had exposed when grinding. No problem my repair guy said, just drill a couple of holes up into the keel and let the water drain out. So drill I did – except that did not go as planned either. No sooner had I drilled a couple of holes but chunks of fiberglass resin started falling out of the area around the cracks and holes. When all was said and done and the hull had stopped blowing chunks, there was about a 5 inch hole in the bottom of the keel right to the imbedded iron ballast.

To me this was a rather disconcerting sight, but to a hull repair guy its just another day on the job. I watched in amazement as he quickly made up a patch that he plugged into the hole. Then after waiting a couple of hours for it to dry he laid up a new repair and smoothed and faired it into the old gel coat. When he was done, you could not tell where he had worked. It looked and felt perfect to me. All this was done in about 4 hours. I have a new respect for guys who work with fiberglass – mine turned out to be a real artisan.

I guess that cube 1 and 2 were in a way good things as they exposed a problem that I had not been aware of before. Now, I am confident the hull is in good shape and in a proper state of repair.

Next time: 3… 2… 1… Launch!!

After a season of fun in the sun, the time came for us to pull the boat out of the water for winter storage. It’s quite a sight.

First the mast was removed. This is done with a crane – the top half of the mast is grabbed with a rope and the whole thing is lifted off the boat. Then dropped down and wrapped up for winter storage on a rack.

Then the boat is moved into a slip where a lift with two slings is brought over top of the boat. The two slings are brought under the boat, one on the front part of the boat, one on the rear part of the boat and then the slings are hoisted up lifting the boat out of the water. The boat is then put on its stand and the stand with boat and all is moved into its final position for the winter. Sigh – a sad sight.

Here’s a bit of advice for those of you who have great dreams of getting large amounts of work done on a boat over the winter. Don’t make too large a list! (“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”) I had grand plans of refinishing everything, replacing just about everything, installing this and that – the list was pages long. Well I managed to get the essentials done – the stuff that if I didn’t get them done … the boat: she no float. I finished replacing all the thru-hulls, replaced the old knot meter and depth sounder and finally finished with a rather large and unexpected hull repair. More on that next time.

We finished with painting new waterline stripes and a fresh coat of bottom coat paint. Bottom coat is interesting stuff. It goes on real thick and heavy but does the job of keeping marine growth off the bottom of the boat. I guess that what ever is in the paint is a poison of some sort that does not allow stuff to grow on it. It even stops zebra mussels from growing on the boat. Anyway, she does look fine all cleaned up and shiny, just waiting to plunge back into the waves.

Up next – Unexpected hull repair.

In a comment to one of my previous posts, Tillerman pointed out that it seemed that owning a keelboat is nothing but trouble. I guess anyone reading this might easily come up with that impression. However, I would like to dispel any notion that sailing a bigger boat is just going from one problem to another. The majority of the time was spent thoroughly enjoying our time on the boat. Many hours were spent idle, just lazing about. Other times were spent in the sheer exhilaration of sailing a strong breeze. BBQ’s at sunset out on the water – watching the stars through the hatch over the v-berth and times of just do-nothing. I can’t think of many happier times than on this boat.

Yep, we’ve had a couple of issues – times when you knew you were alive because you felt it in the pit of your stomach. But, that is part and parcel with life. What a boring existence it would be if nothing ever happened. I know, sometimes (especially after some hair raising experience) we wish for a life of nothing but I would not trade the experiences and memories that I’ve gained on this boat for anything.Hanging out – Fixing Stuff
I know that more ‘stuff’ is going to happen, and when it does, the experience that we’ve gained from the previous ‘stuff’ will help us deal with the new problems.

So, Tillerman, if owning a bigger boat is your dream – go for it! Don’t let the ‘what ifs’ hold you back.
The real Lay-Z-Boy

Generally speaking, engines do not receive the specialized pronoun treatment that boats receive. We rarely call an engine him or her, mostly just ‘it’ or ‘thing’ with a descriptive ‘blasted!’ thrown in for good measure. For the sake of expediency, I too will refer to my engine as ‘it’. However, if ever an inorganic object deserved human descriptions, it is this engine. Sometimes it (she) ‘purrs’ along, other times it (she) kicks and sputters in anger. Sometimes in fits of rage it (she) completely loses self-control and blows off great puffs of foul smelling smoke. In every way it has the all the qualities of a very selfish, high-maintenance, yet very beautiful woman.

My engine is an Atomic 4 by Universal – a gasoline workhorse that has been used in many different boats for many years. The use of this engine would, of course, be very much poo-pooed on by The Magazines as being dangerous due to the volatility of gasoline. They have no problem with propane though. Hmm – both can go ‘bang’ if used carelessly, but only gasoline is dangerous. I wonder why that is? Maybe because gasoline engines are generally half the price of diesel engines? Old boats (and engines) = bad. New boats (with new high priced diesel engines) = good. Cynical? – why, yes I am.

Anyway, after getting towed home, it (she) required some loving care. I started by getting out all the manuals left by the PO (previous owner.) Looking at lots of pictures and doing some sporadic reading lead me to believe that there was something wrong with either the fuel system or the electrical system. Ha – good one! Anyone that knows anything about internal combustion engines will find this kind of humorous. You see, unless something is physically broken, then the problem lies either with fuel delivery or the electrical system. I was not really any further along in trying to find the source of the problem.

Fortunately, the Atomic 4 has a large and very active newsgroup on the web. After posting my problems the consensus was that I should start with a complete tune up as it did not appear that the PO had done one in some time. So tune I did. Plugs, points and condenser were all changed. The parts all came from UAP and were really quite cheap as most were used at various times on other dirt vehicles.

Now, hit the key and … tada it runs! A little rough, but it was alive. After resetting the timing at the dock to make it run better, I took the boat out for a test run. Blasted! The engine would not go above 1300 rpm – it should easily go up to 2200 rpm or so. Back to the hole. (The engine compartment on many boats is very small and is often termed ‘the hole’.)

When I had done the tune up I had not changed the wires because of the old proverbial ‘they looked OK’. Well, they weren’t. One of the wires, cylinder number 4 was bad. It had high resistance and the charge for the spark was not getting through. So, another trip back to UAP. I quickly changed the wires and while tied up tight to the dock, dropped the engine into gear and throttled it up – ya baby – that’s more like it. Full RPM’s.

After a final tune up and engine timing change out on the lake, the engine was back to running smooth again. It did have one hiccup, which has not reoccurred since changing the fuel filter.

So, the moral of the story is … I guess … to have a harmonious time on the water, keep your engine in tune. Haha.

Next up – Winter lay up.

I only had to get rescued once last summer. Hmmm – that’s once too many!

Due to A. getting on in her pregnancy and also her travel for her work, I spent a lot of time single handing (sailing alone) at the end of the summer. I usually didn’t go far and often just went ‘bobbing’. This is what my wife and I call it when there is little wind, so we just motor a mile or so off shore and just bob around. You know, hang out.

I went out one day after work – sailing west up the lake toward Oakville. The wind was very light, but I could still move along. I planned to tack my way west then sail downwind home again. Well, about the time I got to the Mississauga/Oakville border – the wind died. So I bobbed. As the sun was getting low in the sky, I decided to fire up the motor and go home. Turned the key – the motor turned over – but would not run. Dang thing! Tried it again – then for longer and longer runs of the starter. Nothing – the engine would not catch.

I did not have any tools with me and at that point I’m not sure where I would have started anyway. I banged around on the engine, thinking that a strategic hit somewhere would magically solve fix it. (I fix appliances for a living, and sometimes when all else fails, the ‘big hammer’ method works. The method is as follows. Take a big hammer – hit the appliance several times and see if it works.) Anyway, not this time.

The sun was now going below the horizon, so it was time to call for help. I did not have my cel phone with me, so I got on the VHF radio and notified the local Coast Guard of my situation. They in turn tried to raise the Peel Marine Police unit who are stationed out of my marina – in fact about 10 slips down from us. But for some reason, they were not answering their phone or radios. So the Toronto Marine unit had to be called. They were on their way, but would take a while. Fine by me – just get me in before nightfall.

Back to bobbing – and bobbing – and more bobbing. Finally, off in the distance I could see the hard bottom orange zodiac coming. They tied a line up to me, but would not take me to my marina. I guess that they are to tow into the nearest “safe harbour” which was the Port Credit Harbour Marina. My marina is only about half a mile from Port Credit Harbour Marina. OK – not much I can do – they have the weapons. They towed me in and put me on the cement wall at the entrance of the harbour. A very exposed and not a really safe place, plus the cement wall towers over the deck of my boat by about 6 feet. Nice – thanks guys!

Just as I was tying off, a power boater friend of mine was coming out the bay on his way home to my marina. I begged help – he complied and soon I was moving home at the end of about 100 feet of line. Thanks Tim!

Next – engine repairs and tunes.

We decided one weekend to go to ‘the islands’. I know that normally that means to the Caribbean, but when you live in the Toronto area, it means the Toronto Islands. The islands are bits of land directly off shore from downtown Toronto. They are a beautiful place of trees, tranquility and the odd cormorant. (Actually, the place the crawling with them – they look great but sound awful.)

We sailed off to the area around the Aquatic Sailing Club, which is a spectacular place to anchor. When anchored in the west end of the bay, you can view treed islands and boat bobbing gently on their moorings out the one side of your boat and a spectacular view of downtown Toronto from the other side. Really a unique place.

We anchored late in the afternoon. After settling in we had a great BBQ and settled back to read and relax for the evening. There was little wind. After the sun went down, A. went to bed, but I stayed up to read out in the cockpit. The wind seemed to come up quite quickly and out of the south where it could really blow in off the lake. Still, it was warm and I thought little about the anchor and we had set it hard when we came in. The boats in the mooring field faded into the darkness, all I could hear was the creaking of lines and the wind whistling though the stays of the boats around us. We swung from our anchor line with the boat moving side to side a bit as the wind picked up. I idlely watched the boats to my left as we swung around.

“Whooah, I think that boat is closer than before! Naw, it just us. We’ve move into a different position.” I went back to my book. The next time I looked up – “Crap – that boat is definitely closer than before.” But still, I convinced my self that it was just because we had swung into a different position on the anchor line. But just to be safe I wandered up to the anchor line and gave it a good hard tug. “Yep, she’s dug in good and hard. Nothing to worry about. It’s just my imagination.” Back to the book.

“Nooooo – it can’t be!!!” The boat that I had been watching was now about 15 feet off our stern. No doubt about it – we were on the move – and fast! I called in a mild panic for A. to come up on deck and then quickly started the engine. A. came up all blurry eyed – she had been asleep of course. I went up to the bow and pulled the anchor up while A. motored the boat in a tight circle. Sure enough, there was a big glob of mud on one fluke of our danforth anchor, the rest was clean. Now what to do? Do we try to reset the anchor – well, there was no way that I was going to be able to sleep on the hook that night – not after this close call. Do we sail/motor home – that’s a good 2 to 3 hours away and it was already midnight. Not having done any night time sailing, that was real low on list of desires for that night. As we circled around debating what to do, A. suddenly said that she thought she could see an open mooring ball about 100 meters off. I couldn’t immediately see it, but she still insisted. So we motored towards it and sure enough there it was; an open mooring ball with lines already attached waiting for my boat hook. We hooked the line the first try and were tied up tight in a mater of minutes. Suddenly the night seemed much less ominous and well peaceful again. The wind that seemed to have been howling just minuets before was now just a gentle breeze. After the adrenaline wore off, we hit the sack and both had a great nights sleep. (We have since anchored in that bay and had much stronger winds without problems – so our fear of anchoring out has diminished.)

Next up: My first marine rescue: Me.

A funny thing happened after we got the boat home. Instead of spending every waking moment there, like we thought we would, we actually spent less time with the boat. It just seemed that once the boat was safe home and nearby that we had other things to do. After all, the boat was so close now – “we’ll go there later” seemed like something we were saying all the time. Mind you, we still did a lot of sailing just not as much as we had planned.

The one big trip we took that first summer was to the 40 year Alberg reunion in Whitby, Ontario. That’s about 37 nautical miles away, past Pickering where we had come from. The trip there was relatively uneventful, with light airs (lights winds) and smooth water. We really enjoyed the sail down. We were running downwind so we were able to tie the sails off wing on wing (that means the jib on one side of the boat and the main on the other.) This makes for a level deck and also the ability to balance the sails so the tiller can be tied off and the boat just sails itself. We did this for much of the trip, allowing us to spend time together sitting up at the bow of the boat and I even got to wash the decks down while underway. Eventually, a couple of miles out we had to start the engine and motor as the wind had dropped off. We had a great time there – met lots of great people and got to see lots of wonderful Albergs. The Great Lakes Alberg Association includes all the Alberg line of boats, the 22, 29, 30 and 37. It is really a truly vibrant community.

The Saturday evening weather forecast for Sunday was not good. Winds and rain were predicted so a number of the boats left Saturday night for a night sail home. We should have do that too. Sunday morning we awoke late to find that most of the boats with any distance to sail were already gone and that the day was gray and stormy. The Alberg is built for this type of weather so we did not worry about the boat – however, the sailors were not built as sturdy. When we got out of the Whitby harbour we found 6 foot waves and a lot of wind. On top of that we had rain – lots of it.

About half a mile out of the harbour, I made the bad decision to go down below to take readings from the map to set into the handheld GPS unit. I had never been seasick before so I did not expect it. Within about two minutes of being down below I was about to blow chunks. I quickly gathered up the maps and GPS and got out on deck but by then the damage had been done. My stomach was upset and I had a massive headache for the rest of the trip. Funny, A. was, I guess, 6 months pregnant at the time so she had an excuse to feel off, I on the other had had no good excuse and was as sick as her. I don’t think that either of us actually lost our lunches but we still both felt really crappy.

To make matters worse, for some reason in my mind we had to set a course that went as directly as possible to our destination. That is fine, except when the seas (waves) prefer you to sail on a slightly different tack (direction) as was the case that day. If I had changed the sailing direction slightly I could have eliminated much of the rolling and pitching which was making us so sick. Then, once we got close to home I could have just changed course to take us directly into harbour. But alas, my inexperience gave us a real lousy trip home.

As a grand finale to that trip, just as we were motoring into the harbour, about 100 meters from the entrance the engine quit. Thank goodness we still had the main sail up. (I was at the mast but had not dropped it yet.) We whipped the boat around and headed away from shore under sail till we could find out what was wrong with the motor. That turned out to be one of the better decisions we made that day. After all the most dangerous thing to a boat out on the water is land. Its made to take the water and wave, but not the dirt. Anyway, the engine would restart but as soon as we put it into gear it would stall out again. As we tried to figure out what was wrong I saw with dismay, one of our bow lines trailing off into the water. Sure enough, we had wrapped the bow line around the prop on the engine. Normally this is disaster as usually the only was to get the line off is to dive under the boat and cut it off. With the boat in 6 to 8 foot waves there was no way I was going to be able to dive for it. However, as we eased the engine from reverse to neutral to forward all the while pulling on the line, low and behold off spun the line and we were free. (I’ve talked to a number sailors that have wrapped lines around props and none have ever had one come free before.) We quickly pointed the boat for home and motored with out event back to our slip. And that was our first major trip and weather on our boat all rolled into one.

Stay tuned for a “Bad Anchor Job”

As we motored away from the docks at Frenchman’s in Pickering, the thought ‘what am I doing here’ entered my mind several times. Earlier in the day the boat had been launched and the mast reinstalled. All this was new to me. The people we had purchased the boat from had helped us every step of the way in preparing the boat for launch. They were wonderfully confident, but of course they had owned and lived on boats for many years. We on the other hand were flying (sailing) by the seat of our pants. Nothing but Book knowledge and the bit of sailing that I had done the previous summer at the sailing club.

The previous owners were an older couple who had purchased Strathgowan (the name of our boat) with the purpose of retiring and sailing down to the Bahamas. However, after a couple of years of owner ship and living aboard they came to the realization that their arthritis was not going to let them pursue this dream. I suppose they could have be upset about that, but we never saw any signs of it. Instead of sailing south, they had purchased a trailer and a new truck and were going to camp their way around North American. They seemed very much ready to get going and I am glad that they were still able to pursue the dream of travel even if it was on dirt.

As we motored up the channel, I looked back to see Ian (previous owner) standing at the end of the docks watching us sail away. He had a pensive, somewhat forlorn look on his face. I’m not sure if he was sad to see his sailboat sailing away or if he was worried about the two obviously inexperienced young people who were heading out onto the water. With one last wave goodbye we were off into Lake Ontario.

The weather was not great, the wind was up a bit, the skies were grey and rainy and the waves were about one meter. Not a great day for us to be sailing alone for the first time. The distance between Pickering and Mississauga is maybe about 25 nautical miles – not that great a distance. However….

A. (my wife) was between three and four months pregnant at the time. Now, the way that the Alberg 30 is designed a person can stand inside the companionway facing outside and when the desire so arises they can simple lean out and let ‘er rip into a bucket sitting on the ledge of the cockpit. Then the person behind the tiller, can grab the bucket, fling it over the side, rinse it out with lakewater and place it back for the next episode. Ah, the joy of sailing one’s own boat.

Sailing with a single reef in the main and a number two jib we arrived home to our new port in about six hours. Even though the trip left a bad taste in A.’s mouth, we still counted it a success, plus now the boat was about 15 mins away from our house. Now we could spend all the time we wanted on her.

Stay tuned for our first big trip and our first big weather all rolled into one.

Everyone should spend a week of bliss in a little cabin on the south side of Lake Superior. Clears the vision, clarifies the mind and gives one time to step back and see the larger picture.

Ah, what a week it was. While the cabin was solar powered, the Swedish steam room was run purely on firewood and water. The heat was a combination of ‘way too hot’ and pure relaxation. The waves lapping on the rocky beach; to bed at sundown, rising again with the sun. I guess one could describe it as the exact opposite of the ‘normal’ work week.

On the way home we decided that the way things were going were far from what we dreamed they should be. We made notes, brainstormed and generally came up with a list of things that we thought we would like to do. We even made up a binder that we called “The Plan”.

Now, one of the things on the list was ‘sail around the world’. Mind you, it was not anywhere near the top of the list. That spot belonged to a little cabin in the woods. (Hmm, I wonder where we came up with that idea.) But, we figured, if at some point in the future we were going to sail around the world, then maybe one of us should learn how to sail. You see, we had never really sailed before. We had gone out for an afternoon sail with a friend once, but that was about it. So off I went to learn how to sail. I took a keel boating course from Humber Sailing School in Etobicoke, Ontario. About 8 hours on the water and maybe the same in the classroom and: tada – you officially know how to sail. Ya, right! I thought I knew how to sail, but now when I look back: oh how little I actually knew! Anyway, after taking the course, I joined the Humber Sailing Club which gave me a chance to get some experience and hours behind the tiller. Sailing every spare minute I managed to get in around 100 hours by the time the season ended.

The bug had me – bit me hard. I loved sailing – not just the peaceful time out on the water, but all the other skills that go along with it. Studying weather, learning how to service an engine, navigation, sail trim, etc. – all new stuff to learn. I spent the off season taking courses, educating myself on all that I could to prepare me for the next sailing season. Of course, by this time I had dreams of being on my own boat.

Somehow I convinced A. that owning a keelboat was the next step in ‘The Plan’. It seems that convincing the better half is a rather common problem among those that want to sail away. I don’t want to give away all my secrets, but it involved buying all the books that I could find on the cruising lifestyle. (The ones written by women, for women are best.) I also might have told her that when I got the sailing bug off my back that we would certainly settle down to that log cabin in the woods. Well, what ever it was, it worked because in December of 2003, we purchased our sailboat – a 1969 Alberg 30.

I was in love. What a boat! She was on the hard (on land) in Pickering, Ontario, a good 45 minute drive from us, but I still would go to just sit and stare at her. Sitting there, looking like she was about to dive into the clouds. I loved the old musty (moldy) smell, combined with the smell of gasoline (leaking gas tank) and old oil (dripping from somewhere underneath). Combine all that with the smell of a dirty bilge – ah, the sweet smell of my own boat – nothing could have been sweeter.

I spent hours there on weekend’s completing some of the jobs that I felt were required to be safe on the water. Of course, The Magazines told me that she was too small to be safe and that it was suicide sailing anywhere without all the latest gadgets and electronics. But, when you can’t afford all the gadgets, they don’t seem to be so necessary. I figured that she had been safe without all that stuff for the previous 35 years, how could she become unsafe just because technology had changed. But still there were some safely issues to be addressed. I changed the chain plates (parts that hold the mast up) and enlarged the cockpit drains (where the water should go if a wave comes into the cockpit.) I also changed a couple of the thru hulls (metal holes below the waterline that are connected to pipes that either allow water in or out) that were not as thick as they used to be. All in all though, she was a thick, hardy and generally safe sailing vessel. (Now that we have owned and sailed her for two years, I believe this even more.)

At this point, we (I) were beginning to entertain thoughts of ‘sailing away’. I’ll admit that I had read one too many of The Magazines and Books and that I was beginning to think that I would need a complete refit before sailing. (I no longer believe this.) So, we went to boat shows and priced out and bought those things that we just felt we could not do without. Things like a handheld VHF, self-inflating life jackets, etc., you know, just the bare essentials. Now I wish that I had spent that money on more important thing; things that would have made us more comfortable. A bimini cover and dodger for instance. But you just have to have a VHF in your hand when sailing, right? And you must have a self-inflating life jacket on at all times, right? Well, here’s the truth. I’ve used the handheld VHF maybe half a dozen times in two years and have only put on the jackets when in rough weather which we normally don’t sail in anyways. The VHF already on the boat would have worked just fine and the Canadian Tire life vest for 40 bucks would have worked just as well and could have provided a butt pad when not in use. Oh well, live and learn. What The Magazines and The Books say you need and what you really need are two very different things!

So that is how we bought our sailboat.

Stay tuned for how we got her home from Pickering to Mississauga.