"Could you please put three reefs into this mainsail and also shorten it about two feet?" Apprehensively I asked a sailmaker about ten years ago. God I was nervous. I swear everybody thought I was wacked. I think I even sat in the car for about fifteen minutes before going in. Did I also drive around the block a few times?
"No problem." The guy behind the sewing machine replied. I was afraid he was going to say something like, "you wanna put how many reefs in that sail?" Instead the sailmaker continued with, "I'll have that main done for you in a couple of days."
"Thank you that would be great." I said with strange relief and a nervous smile as I turned around and walked out of the sail loft.
Back on the boat I returned to the to do list, scratching this, adding that. I kept working to get the boat ready, being very secretive and silent about my plans because just about everyone I told thought I was nuts.
Then I got the call and let it go to voicemail. "Your sail is ready."
Walking back into the loft the sailmaker was again working from behind his sewing machine. "Hello I'm back." I say with a nervous smile.
The sailmaker stood up from behind his sewing machine and walked over to pick up a neatly folded sail off the shelf. "Here's your main with three reefs and it's shortened two feet."
"Thanks." I said with strange relief. The sailmaker didn't seem to think I was nuts. He's just happily going about his day.
"In about a week or so I'm going to sail my Cal 20 out the gate [Golden Gate] and turn left [south]."
"Great. A friend of mine did that trip in a Cal 20 a while back, didn't have any problems. He said the cockpit being able to drain was key."
"It drains. The outboard well makes a good drain."
"Then you'll be fine. Good luck."
A couple weeks later I was sailing south across Monterrey Bay with a full main and a working jib in an easy 5-10 knot north wind. That quickly changed at sundown about 10 miles west of Point Lobos. With the wind rapidly picking up speed I put two reefs into the main, crawled onto the foredeck to pull down the working jib and raise the tiny storm jib and then soon afterward I wished I'd gotten the main down completely but it was too late. I did however manage to batten down the cabin hatch.
Somewhere off Big Sur the broaching began, the first broach filling the cockpit with water and not draining. The drain was clogged with cigarette butts and plastic wrappers. After quickly reaching into the puddle and pulling out the crap the drains worked.
It was a night of broaching-- burying deep the port rail, righting her with much tiller, twenty foot seas, a gale from astern, lulls in the wind when down in the trough (in the lee of the waves), shooting off the tops of the waves, etc, repeated all night not always in that order.
And the cockpit continued to drain well.
I was sad to hear that in 2011 the sailmaker Ruis Luis of Alameda passed away. May you rest in peace and thanks for the encouraging words.
Fair Winds
Captain Bill
"No problem." The guy behind the sewing machine replied. I was afraid he was going to say something like, "you wanna put how many reefs in that sail?" Instead the sailmaker continued with, "I'll have that main done for you in a couple of days."
"Thank you that would be great." I said with strange relief and a nervous smile as I turned around and walked out of the sail loft.
Back on the boat I returned to the to do list, scratching this, adding that. I kept working to get the boat ready, being very secretive and silent about my plans because just about everyone I told thought I was nuts.
Then I got the call and let it go to voicemail. "Your sail is ready."
Walking back into the loft the sailmaker was again working from behind his sewing machine. "Hello I'm back." I say with a nervous smile.
The sailmaker stood up from behind his sewing machine and walked over to pick up a neatly folded sail off the shelf. "Here's your main with three reefs and it's shortened two feet."
"Thanks." I said with strange relief. The sailmaker didn't seem to think I was nuts. He's just happily going about his day.
"In about a week or so I'm going to sail my Cal 20 out the gate [Golden Gate] and turn left [south]."
"Great. A friend of mine did that trip in a Cal 20 a while back, didn't have any problems. He said the cockpit being able to drain was key."
"It drains. The outboard well makes a good drain."
"Then you'll be fine. Good luck."
A couple weeks later I was sailing south across Monterrey Bay with a full main and a working jib in an easy 5-10 knot north wind. That quickly changed at sundown about 10 miles west of Point Lobos. With the wind rapidly picking up speed I put two reefs into the main, crawled onto the foredeck to pull down the working jib and raise the tiny storm jib and then soon afterward I wished I'd gotten the main down completely but it was too late. I did however manage to batten down the cabin hatch.
Somewhere off Big Sur the broaching began, the first broach filling the cockpit with water and not draining. The drain was clogged with cigarette butts and plastic wrappers. After quickly reaching into the puddle and pulling out the crap the drains worked.
It was a night of broaching-- burying deep the port rail, righting her with much tiller, twenty foot seas, a gale from astern, lulls in the wind when down in the trough (in the lee of the waves), shooting off the tops of the waves, etc, repeated all night not always in that order.
And the cockpit continued to drain well.
I was sad to hear that in 2011 the sailmaker Ruis Luis of Alameda passed away. May you rest in peace and thanks for the encouraging words.
Fair Winds
Captain Bill
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