Newport to Ensenada 2011 Yacht Race

One of the largest and most historic yacht races on the Left Coast, the Newport to Ensenada race is a Southern California sailing mainstay. The 125 nautical mile course leaves from the quaint affluence of Newport Pier, inside of Southern California’s offshore islands, across the imaginary International Border, and finishes inside Bahia Todos Santos by the jetty protecting Ensenada Harbor.

This year’s race participation suffered from higher entry fees and largely groundless fears of drug violence once across the Border in Mexico. It was the smallest turnout in years, with a mere 175 boats making it to the starting line.

We were on the Shelter Island, a Vessel Assist safety vessel for the race, having run from San Diego in the wee hours of the morning. With such a large fleet, the starts are according to class. The first was the mulithulls, then the maxis, then down through the list, with fleet after fleet of increasingly small boats. Unfortunately, the wind steadily decreased, leaving the smaller boats with a dying breeze just off of Newport, while the larger boats rode the wind from their earlier start down the coast.

Stars & Stripes to leeward of It’s OK! with Taxi Dancer out in front.

The smaller boat starts were more of a disorganized driftaround.

As Vessel Assist’s Captain Eric drove the Shelter Island, we kept track of the boats, idling through the fleet at an idling 5 knots, passing much of the smaller boats in the light breeze. Toward evening, he pushed the throttles forward and Shelter Island’s two 900 horsepower diesels sped us through the fleet at 25 knots.

The Perry 56 Stealth Chicken races the sunset to Ensenada.

Without sufficient daylight to catch the fastest boats before dark, we went as far South as Mexico’s Coronado Islands, then headed back to San Diego for the night.

It’s OK! rolling inside of Coronado Island.

It’s OK! trying to squeeze the last bits of daylight out of the race.

The next morning, we refueled and headed out early, sweeping well North of the Coronados and doing a sweep for sails. We found a bunch of boats that decided to keep well offshore (at times over 30 nautical miles) which kept them in the wind for a while, but did them no favors considering the extra distance they had to travel back to the finish line. After the first night of sailing in no wind, most of the fleet was in fairly good spirits, and we did see the occasional can of Tecate beer opened quite early.

Some of the cruisers even brought their own dinghies

Sly McFly looking wry as the guys try to fly by

The all-female Santa Cruz 27 “Cruz Control” were having fun on day two

As day two went on, the breeze came up a bit, which gave hope to the vast number of boats that had gone far outside. Unfortunately, there were still a great many boats still very far from the finish line in Ensenada. We blazed down to the El Corral Hotel in Ensenada, and found a slip, hotel room, and some fish tacos. We checked in with the race committee and reported the positions of the boats we had recorded.

When staying at El Corral Hotel, I can’t recommend the Spanish check spelling Omelette enough

We were up again early Sunday, which was gloomy and overcast after a windless night. The next day was Captain Eric’s birthday, so we picked up some balloons that someone had conveniently left in the ocean, and had a celebration aboard Shelter Island as we recorded more positions.

Captain Eric enjoys balloons

By Sunday morning, many of the boats had pulled out of the race and either motored to San Diego or down to Ensenada for the party. We were charged with finding the ones still in it, but time was fleeting with an 11 am deadline. The remaining boats were struggling after two full nights in the light air. Now with a mild Southerly wind, progress was very tough. Unfortunately, our friends aboard Cruz Control were mere miles from the finish when time ran out, so we towed them into Ensenada, where they proceeded to win the party at the Yacht Club.

Cruz Control wishing for more wind on day three

After all the boats were accounted for, we headed back to the Yacht Club for the awards ceremony, which unfortunately consisted of not many people, as so many had dropped out of the race.

We hope to be back next year, with better wind and more boats, so we can keep this part of International sailing history alive and well.

Challenged America

While at the Sunroad Boat Show in San Diego, we interviewed some of the exhibitors for a little highlight reel we put together. One of the most fascinating people we met was Urban Miyares, a disabled veteran who started a non-profit organization in San Diego called Challenged America back in 1978.

Challenged America gives people with disabilities the opportunity to sail. They have built up an impressive array of disability-friendly boats, and even ran a very successful Pacific Cup campaign.

So when we heard that they were seeking volunteers to help with a new project, we were excited to be involved, as it seemed a natural extension of our work for non-profits and our love of sailing.

Through Nielsen Beaumont Marine, Challenged America acquired a Grand Banks 42 powerboat which will be used as a committee boat. The boat needs heaps of work (don’t all boats?) but with the right people, it will get done.

The boat is at the Neilsen Beaumont yard on Shelter Island, and we interviewed the owner Tom Neilsen and Dave Hopkins from Challenged America.

And yes, we will be putting down the cameras and picking up sanders and varnish brushes.

Here is our Sunroad Boat Show vid, for an introduction of Urban.

Ullman Sails Seminar Series: Unlocking the Racecourse

Some time ago, we had the opportunity to attend the Ullman Sails Seminar Series: Unlocking the Racecourse.  We rolled over to Southwestern Yacht Club and joined in at the packed house. The seminar featured an incredible amount of sailing’s top talents; Dave Ullman, Greg Koski, Erik Shampain, Chuck Skewes and San Diego’s Will Stout. They approached the topic of a weekend regatta from start to finish. Well, in reality, long before the start, from a variety of different viewpoints; big boats, sportboat/dinghies, tactics, and local knowledge. They encouraged questions throughout, giving the attendees great access to a wealth of valuable information.

We took some segments from the lecture (over three hours all told) and cut it together with some of our ISAF Anarchy Regatta footy. Sketchy camerawork can be blamed on Southwestern Yacht Club’s exceedingly potent Dark and Stormys.

See you at the next seminar, contact Ullman Sails for more information.

YachtAid Global

For any company or individual, there is nothing like giving back to your community. There is a sense of purpose that comes with it, a sense of doing the right thing for those who are in need. That is the reason we are involved in doing work for non-profit organizations. These groups are genuinely trying to give back to their community, to help those who need it. That is how we came to be involved in Freedom House, and have done what we can for their cause to build homes for people with traumatic brain injury.

More recently, we were contacted by another non-profit organization who had a need for our services. Captain Mark Drewelow founded YachtAid Global several years ago. As a captain, Mark had traveled the world, and began a superyacht resource company based in San Diego. Wanting to give back to the places he had visited during his travels, he came up with the idea of incorporating superyachts and their destinations with aid giving to remote communities.

YachtAid Global finds communities in need of assistance and matches them with superyachts heading to the area. YAG arranges every aspect of the delivery; provisions, paperwork, and contacts.

All the yacht’s crew has to do is find a place for the aid aboard the yacht, usually just eight or so plastic containers, and when they arrive at the destination, drop them off to the contact.

We created this video to promote YAG. It will be shown at the Miami Boat Show to over 200 superyacht captains and owners., and will hopefully seek to involve many others in the fantastic charitable giving that YachtAid Global promotes.

Welcome to Australia

November 2003

On a long, brutal passage from Vanuatu, we were so close to the Land Down Under we could taste it. Having no functioning autopilot, we were forced to hand steer the thousands of miles of open ocean from the New Hebrides to get to our final destination: Australia.

The wind had mitigated significantly. Dying from the 25 knots consistent with a rather pressing windswell, it had diminished to a steady 12-15 knots from our stern quarter, perfect conditions for full sail on our little racing sailboat Project Mayhem.

We made fast progress once in Australian waters, and after an exhausting night dodging the numerous reefs that marked the entrance to the Great Barrier Reef, we felt that we might just have a bit of a respite and have and easy entry to Oz.

Such was not the case.

At 2 am, we were experiencing perfect conditions. 12 knots steady astern. The only concern was the enormous thunderclouds coming from the land that was our destination. The thunderheads were everywhere around us, filled with lightning. We could see them bursting with fury in every direction. Yet we seemed unaffected by the storm’s wrath.

We rationalized the storms.

“It’s only land-based lightning. It won’t move offshore.” We reasoned, grasping at some Midwest theory of how storms work.

We were mistaken.

As we continued to sail at night under perfect weather, we saw a large thunderhead detach itself from the mainland and make its way toward our tiny boat.

The wind that had been behind us suddenly turned.  The sails stalled, sagging in the sudden lull. We looked at each other, realizing that the fierce thunderhead was in reality sucking us directly into it.

“Get the sails in.” Brett yells as the wind backs suddenly, and increases.

As Brett steers into the wind, I take the jib’s furling line and pull with all my strength. It furls nicely, but the wind is yet increasing, and the mainsail, the primary power source of Project Mayhem is still fully deployed.

I switch on my headlamp as the blackness envelopes our small boat. I unload the main halyard and start pulling the sail onto the boom. Lightning envelops us. The constant and nearby flashes illuminate my actions as I struggle to douse the sail. I am lashed by rain, and communication is impossible as thunder deafens all. The last six feet of sail are the worst. By then, the wind is screaming at over 60 knots, howling through the rigging. The sail flogs and tears at my hands as I try to wrestle it to the boom, the fiberglass batten writhes and lashes at me. The lighting flashes like strobe lights, and I’m clutching an aluminum spar. In the rain. My headlamp is rendered useless with the flashing bolts of electricity.  Thunder is the only sound I hear. Exploding around us.

We’ve no choice but to lie ahull, and let the boat take care of herself with no sail up. With a storm upon us yet inside the protection afforded by the Great Barrier Reef, our only chance is to strike all sail and wait it out. We carefully tie the wheel amidships, not wanting to touch metal with the palpable electricity in the air.

We sit in the cockpit, crouched low. We witness lightning strike the water a mere 100 feet from our position, the ocean sparkling a fierce, blinding white as the electrical force rips the water molecules apart. The sharp smell of scorched ozone fills the air. We reflect upon the 45-foot aluminum mast sticking above the water, and wonder what our chances are.

A lightning strike would potentially be our demise. We are still many hours from port, and such an event would likely drive our bronze through hulls out of the hull, leaving many large holes in Project Mayhem’s fiberglass hull, whereupon we would quickly sink. A strike would likely destroy all electronics aboard, so we would be unable to make a mayday call.

We crouch low, afraid to touch the metal wheel or rigging. Our only option is to wait, and hope for the best.

The storm passes near first light, and we are able to motor into the entrance to the Bundaberg River, where the marina is.

We drop anchor in the quarantine area, as we have sailed from a foreign port and need proper clearance into Australia.

We crash out down below, exhausted.

“Project Mayhem, Project Mayhem. This is Australian Customs.” The VHF radio broadcast wakes me. I grin at the way the Officer pronounces Australian as “O-Stray-lian.”

“This is Project Mayhem, go ahead.” I reply.

“Welcome to Australia.”

***********************************************************************************

To everyone suffering from the storms and flooding in Australia, our hearts and thoughts are with you. Please be safe, and be well.

ISAF Anarchy Regatta

At some point in September of this year, I was sitting about, reading online updates from favorite sailing websites, and noticed on SailingAnarchy.com that they were hosting a Regatta in San Diego near the end of September. With a far-too-typical hiatus of gainful employment, I approached Brett with an idea.

“Hey, Sailing Anarchy is having a Regatta in Dago. We should film it.”

“Yes, we should.”

That settled, we contacted SA and asked how we could help. They were excited to have a team of experienced videographers, particularly ones with as much time shooting on the water. After all, it’s what we do.

The Regatta was the Second Annual International Sportboat Anarchy Festival, hosted by Sailing Anarchy. It is a play on words to one of sailing’s governing bodies, the ISAF, with whom Sailing Anarchy does not get along too well.

So, as is typical, Sailing Anarchy flew in the face of convention and held their own Regatta, a three-day event hosted by the Coronado Yacht Club, in Coronado (San Diego), California.

The official races were held only Saturday and Sunday, but there was additional racing on Friday, which we missed thanks to a meeting in Hell A.

We arrived in Coronado Saturday morning, and after fortifying ourselves with some Guinness at the Yacht Club Bar, we arranged to go out on some chase boats.

With two cameras, I went on the powerboat “Son of Anarchy,” the official media boat, and Brett went on one of the Race Committee boats.

Also on the media boat was Alan Block, AKA Mr. Clean, who runs Sailing Anarchy’s popular On The Water Anarchy segment, which broadcasts live racing online.

Also onboard, we had Alan’s pro photographer wife Meredith, another pro sailing photographer Dennis St. Onge, AKA Da Woody, and our driver, who, despite not crashing into anyone, shall remain nameless.

I shot HD footage of the action with my camera, and also assisted Alan with the live feed, something I had never done before. With a whack of Tecates in the boat’s reefer, we quickly learned how to work around each other, as we had two still photographers and two video cameras, one on a giant tripod, working at all times.

Alan did a great job of narrating the action as it unfolded. I learned a ton shooting the live feed, which was great fun. I’ve filmed on the water for over 10 years, but shooting for a promo and a live feed are wildly different. Add to the mix that Alan kept asking me questions while sticking the microphone in my face, it was a challenge, indeed. Luckily, those watching the feed online really enjoyed it.

There were two courses set up, one for the big boats, and one for the smaller ones. The big boat fleet saw everything from J-125’s to Viper 640s. There were two different starts for the big boats, with the big J’s and FT10s dominating, and the second wave of Vipers and FT 7.5s representing their classes well.

The small boat fleet saw a great turnout of 505s, Moths, and Wetas. The Moths, in particular, were insanely fun to watch, as they could power up to over 15 knots in the 8-10 knot breezes over the weekend.

Saturday night saw the delicious Blind Squirrel Rum Girls handing out free samples, a kickass band, and I don’t remember too much after that point, except being cornered by a girl making balloon animals and being slightly afraid.

Sunday saw perfect conditions for South Bay, and after some vodka and energy drinks to clear my hungover cranium, I again headed out on Son of Anarchy for more footage. Brett had our A camera this time, and was ensconced on one of the committee boats, where an abundance of rum was flowing.

I concentrated on the live shots, attempting to boost my skills. Again, the online viewers were happy. And I didn’t even drop the camera in the water, so that was another plus.

After the awards ceremony, Brett and I chatted with some of the members of the Coronado Yacht Club – really great people. We also had an opportunity to chat with Alec Steward, founder of Velocitek, a company that makes GPS-based devices for racing sailors. We filmed him describing the ProStart, a device for measuring distance-to-starting line.

Upon returning to the studio, we put together this video, recapping the action of the weekend.

We also remained in contact with Alec, and agreed to cut together two videos for Velocitek. This, of the ProStart:

And this one cut together from existing footage:

With a great variety of boats present at the Regatta, we put out inquiries to the manufacturers, armed with a lot of stock footage of the boats in action.

We heard back from Flying Tiger Boats, who is launching a new website soon. We put this together for them.

All told, despite the damage to our livers, the Regatta was a great experience. Lots of great people, good food, abundant alcohol, and great racing.

Kudos to Sailing Anarchy for putting on such a great event. See you next year.

A Fit to Refit a Fit Flicka

During this year’s spring, I had the opportunity to teach some sailing lessons. The receiver of my questionable knowledge was a retired bush pilot from Alaska, who had the previous year purchased a delightful Flicka 20. The Flicka, a Bruce Bingham design, is a sturdy, if small, offshore capable sailboat. I admit that I was quite eager to get a chance to sail on one of these legendary boats. The owner, being a pilot and avid reader, had a good working knowledge of sailboats, but had not spent that much time on the water.

We began with some leisurely day sails out of Ventura Harbor, choosing days with appropriate weather to minimize trauma for the new owner. He soon graduated to more strenuous maneuvering, such as windward / leeward mark roundings and responded well to me constantly peppering him with right of way rules questions.

Lovely day sailing the Flicka outside of Ventura

Pursuant to the owner’s growing confidence and skills, it soon became time to take the Flicka out in more challenging conditions. We took the boat out for some close-quarters sailing, mowing the lawn sailing back and forth inside Ventura Harbor. The constantly shifting winds and puffs and lulls quickly reoriented the owner’s ideas of difficult sailing. He responded wonderfully, frequently asking pertinent questions to match his flying expertise to sailing.

Discussing the finer points of sail trim with the owner.

The Flicka rail down in 15-20 knots in Ventura Harbor

After months of lessons, it was time for the owner to return to Alaska and for the Flicka to be hauled out, put on a trailer, and stored for the summer.

Per my recommendation, I encouraged the owner to do some work on the topside paint, as well as a new below-waterline restoration. After some brainstorming about what might have occurred to make the topside paint look so dreadful in the first place (aside from the owner’s habit of approaching the dock at ramming speed.) We concluded that, in order to restore the Flicka to Bristol condition, we would need to completely repaint the topsides (hull) and bottom.

This paint has seen better days. You should see the dock…

There were many reasons for the dreadful appearance of the topside paint. It appears that the Flicka’s previous owners, in haste to repaint, did not adequately prepare the gelcoat for painting. To wit, they did not remove the wax coating that gelcoat leaves, and instead painted directly over it with a one-part polyurethane paint.

A local Ventura boatyard hauled the Flicka, and soon it became apparent that the lush vegetation growing beneath the waterline warranted some attention, as well.

Bottom Growth: Nothing that a lawnmower wouldn’t fix.

Once hauled, the botanical gardens gave way (through forceful pressure washing) to some decades-old bottom paint. A new bottom was in order.

One troublesome aspect of repainting the bottom was that the waterline had been moved several times when the previous owners went cruising. They first made the waterline higher, to accommodate the heavy provisions during cruising, but upon return, tried to lower it again by painting over the bottom paint with topside paint.

If you are ever considering doing this, don’t. Write that down.

With the topside paint flaking off of the topside and around the waterline, it appeared to be a difficult task to locate the original waterline. After burning through a great many sanding discs in an attempt to locate the original gelcoat waterline by removing paint, it became apparent that an alternative paint removal method was necessary.

This led to some problems, particularly; the paint could be removed without much trouble. I thought of some creative ways to remove the old paint, such as:

1. Anchor the boat out in a strong breeze and let the chips fall where they may.
2. Cover the boat in duct tape and remove in a Brazilian Waxing fashion.
3. Employ a stripper to remove the existing paint.

We ended up going with the stripper. Before I go further, I must explain that the stripper in question is from the chemical variety, i.e. a paint-removing chemical.

The stripper was applied carefully along the waterline area with disposable chip brushes. As its toxicity rivals that of Three Mile Island, we took precautions such as covering our feet in attractive booties.

I spy with my little eye, a bootstripe! Now I might die.

With the gooey paint removed, the original gelcoat waterline became apparent. Next came sanding the bottom with 80 grit to give the new bottom paint a mechanical “tooth” to adhere to. Once again, all safety measures were employed, including a cheap dusk mask and a lamentably porous pair of coveralls. Upon grinding the toxic metal-based paint from the bottom, I could feel my life expectancy decrease by the second.

With a sanded and cleaned bottom, we taped off and prepared to put on the first coat of antifouling paint.

Antifouling paint works by creating a hostile environment for marine life to thwart its growth. Typically, bottom paints will have a significant copper content. The owner, digging through the previous owners’ larder, found some cans of antifouling that appeared to be left over from the Eisenhower Administration. Upon further research, we found that the cans were a mere two decades old. Unfortunately, the copper had settled in a vicious fashion, and only with a great deal of patient stirring could the paint be declumpified sufficiently to even resemble real paint.

This bottom paint clumps so good…

Another nice feature of this ancient antifouling was the distinct and horrifying scent. Seriously, it cleared everyone out of the adjacent yard office. Awesome.

Rolling on the bottom paint, if my brain cell loss was any indication, this stuff is very effective.

I’m bringing sexy back with these booties.

After two coats, the Flicka was placed back on its trailer and transported inland to the owner’s residence so the topside paint could be applied.

After much plastic wrapping, to avoid contaminating the new bottom paint with the chemical stripper we were to use to remove the topside paint, stripping began in earnest. We had other options to stripping, such as sanding, but unfortunately, this is noisy, time consuming, and sandpaper-intensive. It also allows the possibility of the gelcoat wax to become engrained in the gelcoat, which would make the new paint impossible to stick correctly.

Using scrapers, we removed the jellied existing topside paint, which was a messy but fairly straightforward process.

After extensive cleanup, the new surface was dewaxed (just to be safe) and sanded, then cleaned.

We opted for a two-part paint system, because of its incredible durability versus one-part paint systems, to say nothing of the rich glossy color.

The first step in this process is to apply the two-part primer over the freshly sanded and dewaxed surface. The primer comes in but one color – white, and it is an essential step in creating a surface for the paint to bond to. It also will fill in minor blemishes and scratches in the hull’s surface.

Now, bear in mind that the boat was now some distance inland in the Southern California spring, which meant working conditions were roughly that of working inside a giant hair dryer – hot and windy.

We applied an extra bit of thinner, mixed the primer according to the manufacturer’s instructions, and rolled on the first coat. It was appalling. The first coat failed to cover the green very much at all, but we hoped the next coat would help. After sanding and cleaning, we rolled the second coat, with much-improved results.

Primed and Ready

After sanding carefully, we now had the canvas upon which to paint or dark jade green topside paint.

With the hot and windy conditions, we knew drying (or flashing – not what you think, I left my trench coat at home) would be our worst enemy. To compensate, we added a significant amount of thinner, which allowed us to roll on the paint, and tip off the paint with a dry brush to get a smooth finish.

Again, the results were disastrous – the paint went on far too thinly for decent coverage.

First Coat: The Flicka looks like an extra for The A-Team.

The next day, results were much improved as we ditched the rollers in favor of completely hand painting the boat with good brushes. The brushes allowed us to apply the paint much thicker than the foam rollers had allowed. The second coat went on beautifully, and we were confident that with a third and final coat, the little Flicka would be absolutely Bristol.

We were correct. After learning lessons from the previous two, the third coat went on beautifully.

Look at me in all this green.

When the owner returns for the winter, seeking refuge from Alaska, the next steps will be to paint the waterline stripe (boot stripe) and accents.

All in all, this project proved to be a considerable learning experience for me. The weather conditions were challenging, but all things considered, the owner has a gorgeous boat to be very proud of, and this paint job will last for a great many years, or until the next time he hits the dock…

Afore and Bafter: The Flicka with her new paint job. Nice, eh?

Press Release

: Press Release:

May 8, 2010

Praxis Universal, LLC

www.praxisuniversal.com

A video production and Internet social networking company

Coming to a Harbor near you

Travels of the S/V Grace

Objective: To sail throughout Southern California for the months of June, July, August, September 2010 filming with the intent to produce a Documentary of the Southern California boating lifestyle. To create for sale custom finished 3-5 minute pieces exemplifying the boating lifestyle for sale to anyone. Tailored to your specific needs.

We will be offering an unparalleled perspective of the boating lifestyle for any TV show magazine, organization, or online media.

Aboard our custom redesigned Morgan 45 sailboat with built in editing/production studio. S/V Grace was designed specifically to sail the world, filming, editing and producing.

Brett and Mike of Praxis Universal have sailed the world filming and documenting the boating lifestyle. They have produced pieces for media outlets all over the world and boating legends like Lin and Larry Pardey, The Panama Canal Zone, and Zac Sunderland, and produced the Internet TV show OceanRescue.TV.  For examples of their work and past clients please visit praxisuniversal.com.

We are available for hire

If you’re having a yacht race or regatta, want a custom made video of your boat or yacht club with our mobile filming and editing platform, we can offer a service unmatched by anyone.

We film completely in television broadcast quality High Definition.

If you have an interest for a piece, or a good idea for one, please contact Brett@praxisuniversal.com.

Return to Grace

Grace in San Diego Bay

This is our sailboat, Grace, looking spectacular at anchor in San Diego Bay. But she wasn’t always beautiful, but more of a diamond in the rough…

Grace at the King Harbor Yacht Club

Grace at the King Harbor Yacht Club. For more information, read on…

Humble Beginnings

Humble Beginnings

A few years back, in the early summer, Praxis Universal, LLC purchased Grace, a 1977 45 foot Morgan Sloop. Her graceful lines, slim beam, large rig, and solid construction will make her a superb Ocean Cruiser. But first… she needs work. Lots of it.

Bottoms Up

One of the first tasks was to make Grace ready to be in the water for the first time in over five years. Some blistering had occurred, but this is to be expected. Once dried out sufficiently for most of the last decade, the blister fixing proved pedestrian, if time consuming. Here Brett applies epoxy resin to the opened blisters. You can tell from the picture that he is enjoying working with dangerous chemicals.

Houston, Prepare for Liftoff

Mike, shown here, is somewhat paranoid about working with heavy metals. When applying the copper-based bottom paint, Mike donned sufficient protection to withstand nuclear blast radiation.

Countdown

After three new coats of topside paint, and many acres of sanding, Grace is ready to go into the water for the first time in many years. Here she is slung on the Travelift, eagerly awaiting antropomorphizing and touching salt water for the first time since the Turn of the Century. Her owners anxiously await to see if she will decide to float.

Splashdown

Here is Grace first touching the water, with new a completely redone bottom, and many coats of new topside paint. Next up is a complete rigging job. Grace must be in the water for her mast to be removed because of it’s fantastic size.

Restless

Grace at the docks. Notice the reflection of light on her stern fantail from the new paint job.
Next up: Repainting nonskid and decks, rebedding hardware on deck, rerigging, and installing electronics. Too easy, right?

Flat Out

Grace from above. The old decks look shabby compared to the finery of the hull and bottom.

No Mas(t)…

Here lies Grace at the docks after her rig has been removed for a complete refit. Notice how proud her bow is out of the water. Guaranteed, she will sit on her lines when loaded down for cruising, with 300 feet of anchor chain and anchors, 100 gallons of water, 75 gallons of diesel, roller furling, sails, and her new rigging.

Masting Call

Here Brett prepares the mast for painting. Before this stage, the crew worked many hours removing all the old hardware (sail tracks, winches, lights, spreaders, and blocks) to get to this stage. For a mast nearly 30 years old, it was in remarkably good shape.

Prime(r) Colors

Brett and Mike applying two-part high build epoxy primer to the boom. Once they removed the hardware, the mast needed to be:
cleaned,
sanded,
cleaned,
washed with metal etching acid,
rinsed,
sanded,
cleaned,
primed with self-etching primer,
sanded,
cleaned,
primed,
sanded,
cleaned,
primed again,
sanded,
cleaned,
and THEN painted,
and then sanded,
cleaned,
and painted again.

Acres for Sail

With the rig removed, we now have a chance to assess the condition of the sails. As Grace had never seen much sailing, her sails are in remarkably good shape, if dirty.
Here Mike and Brett set about folding her giant mainsail.

With a boom of nearly 20 feet, and a hoist of 55 feet, Grace‘s mainsail area is well over 500 square feet. She has a huge rig for her size, which should suit her well in light air and give her exceedingly good performance all around.

Finished Mast

Here is the finished mast. This paint job, though hand done, rivals a spray job and saves about $2500.

Next up: rerig the shrouds, install roller furling, and step the newly painted mast, once the hardware has been reapplied.

Tools for Fools

Some compare sailboat cruising to yacht repair in exotic locations. To help us when the need arises, we have a vast assortment of tools aboard Grace. Given the sheer volume of tools, one might recommend getting two boats: one for humans, the other to be occupied solely by tools.*

*(Note: in our case, the difference is negligible.)

The Four Seasons of the Binnacle

Similar to the mast, the binnacle (the thing that the wheel attaches to, used for steering the boat, also called “helming” or “something to do when the autopilot fails”) needed a great deal of work. With the aluminum showing through, the binnacle needed to be disassembled, stripped of paint, primed, sanded, primed, sanded, primed, sanded, and then painted. Something more fun does not spring immediately to mind…

A Glorious Lump of Iron

Next up for Grace‘s crew: Transforming this great heaping pile of rust (also known as a Perkins 4-108) into something that might convert petroleum products into propulsion, energy, and a great deal of noise. Keep in mind that this engine has not been turned over for the better part of a decade.

Farfromgruven

Brett and Mike tackle the Mighty Perkins. We had the starter and alternator rebuilt, and installed a new diesel pump (lift pump for you diesel mechanics). After attaching a bucket to the raw water intake, we tried to start the engine. After a mixed-blessing-type-afternoon, THE ENGINE STARTED AND RAN!

Luckily, we were able to catch it.

What’s Next?

Mike ponders the quandary known to every sailor: Why is it that just as you are able to cross an item off your list as a job well done, it seems a dozen more leap in to take it’s place?

Next up for Grace: Paint the deck / new nonskid, run the mast electronics, put the mast back on, acquire a tender and outboard, and go sailing!

It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like…

Here Mike applies the first coat of primer to the decks. If you look very closely, you can tell his pants couldn’t stand the excitement of new nonskid.

Christmas? Albedo = 1

After another primer coat, Grace received her first coat of real paint. Now sealed from the elements, she may even survive the harsh environment of a Southern California Coastal Summer, where temperatures have been known to soar into the 70’s in the daytime, and plunge into the 70’s at night.

(Non)Skid Row

Here’s the soon to be finished product: Grace with her new beige nonskid on her decks. Next: we pull tape and get her ready to go back into the water.

Some Assembly Required

After painting, Grace needed to have all her bits and pieces reattached or replaced. We began with the portlights (windows for you land-types), rebuilt and installed the winches (wenches will come later), and in general stuck everything together with polysulfide, which tastes as good as it sounds.

Slings and Arrows

Here is Grace ready for the water for the second time, this time to stay there and to have her mast stepped.

Shiny Metal Bits

We all enjoy shiny metal bits in our lives, and boaters have not only that congenital attraction, but the understanding that these shiny metal bits can make the boat go, and keep her in one piece. These shiny metal bits (read: completely new rigging, built and engineered from scratch by Ventura Rigging, were a complete necessity, as the previous setup left much to desire.

To Coin a Phrase

Sailors believe it is good luck to place a coin under the mast step. We found a 2007 dollar coin, and oriented Lady Liberty forward so she can light our way.

Touch the Sky

Mr. Rigger’s calculations proved to be dead on, so Grace now has her brand new rig attached and ready to sail.

Testing One, Two…

Next, we enlisted the experienced help of Nickeas Marine to give us the go ahead on our rebuilt engine. Once cleared for takeoff, we motored around Ventura Harbor and found our new temporary slip.
Here are some monumental events from that day:
1. Grace moved under her own power for the first time in nearly a decade.
2. Grace moved OUT OF THE BOATYARD!
3. Mike and Brett managed not to crash into anything, despite being exceedingly giggly about 1. and 2. (above)

One More Round

Here Grace sits at her slip in Ventura, where every morning we don’t have to get up and wash a powder coating of bottom paint off her decks. Good times, indeed.
Next on the list: Putting the sails aboard, herding some electrons (connecting electronics), and preparing to set sail.
DON’T TOUCH THAT DIAL! (And if your computer has a dial, you probably need a new one.)

What’s in a Name?

Trying to capture a yacht with her name is a difficult task. We had Gino’s Boat Lettering come and put his personal expertise to work on Grace. The result: 23k gold lettering which looks absolutely amazing in any light conditions, and is truly befitting her name.

1, 2, Foc!

With no existing systems to reef the main (reduce sail in severe conditions), we were able to start from scratch. When designing the reefing system, we found labels as follows, for increasingly grim conditions:
1. Reef 1: Winds above 20 knots.
2. Reef 2: Winds above 30 knots.
3. When winds reach 40 knots or above, also called gale force winds, we will implement the “Foc” lever (yes, it’s pronounced that way) to become fully reefed in storm conditions.

(A)Lofty Goals

Nothing is ever perfect, and if said imperfection lies at the top of a 65 foot mast, it has to be dealt with up there. Here Mike enjoys the view and loses all feeling in his legs while installing a halyard restrainer.

View From the Top

Grace from the masthead. Here you can really tell how narrow she is compared with her length.

Testipulations

09.30.2007 – Grace sailing for the first time in…ever? A warm calm day in Ventura, we had less than 10 knots the entire day. Not the best of conditions for a large bluewater boat, but Grace performed spectacularly. Close-hauled in 8 knots of breeze, she hit 6.5 knots consistent. Brilliant!

Breakdown, er, Shakedown Cruise…

Finally cutting our dock lines to Ventura, we planned a leisurely route to the Channel Islands, back to the mainland, and then to Catalina. Here is Grace‘s path as we made our way down to San Diego.

Cruisin’ Santa Cruz

Buddy boating with our good friend David from Patience, we discovered that Grace had the rather alarming tendency to sink whilst on starboard tack. The source of the problem was twofold. The previous owner installed a vent loop in the forward bilge pump’s exit line, but failed to realize that when heeled, the vent loop (which is meant to be ABOVE waterline) was more than three feet under. This, compounded with a faulty float switch, made for an exciting afternoon. With the problem solved, we sailed into Smuggler’s Cove on Santa Cruz Island, and anchored for a few days.

Herding Electrons

Here Mike expresses mild interest in the new chartplotter. Brett and Mike spent the whole day installing various electronics, including the autopilot, chartplotter, GPS, and VHF radio.

Redondo Beach Bums

Part of the shakedown cruise is locating and diagnosing problems. With an early start out of Santa Cruz in order to make landfall by night with over 60 nautical miles to go, we began with a fantastic close reach out of Smuggler’s Cove. Lamentably, the wind grew fickle, and we decided to motor across the busy LA shipping lanes. Dead smack in the middle of the lanes, the engine started revving in an alarming manner. The problem: a small hose on the diesel lift pump started sucking air, so the engine wasn’t getting enough fuel. Once diagnosed, we tore the boat apart to find bits to repair it. Meanwhile, we watched a Northbound freighter scream by us at 25 knots. We were managing 1.5 knots with the dead breeze. With the hose repaired and the engine bled of air, we fired her back up, crossed the shipping lanes, and watched the breeze fill back in so we could sail at a consistent 7.5 knots into Redondo, just in time to put the pick down before complete darkness.

Gale Safe Measures

Waves breaking over the Redondo breakwater

The next morning saw considerable excitement, as we had anchored behind the breakwater, and the increasing wind tested our anchoring system. We had too little chain out (there wasn’t room enough for us to have both proper scope and be out of the main channel), and the anchor slipped. We had arranged for a temporary berth at a marina, but with 35 knots of breeze coming through the harbor, we thought meandering around the marina trying to find the spot would prove too challenging. Instead, we received an offer from King Harbor Yacht Club, who invited us to stay on their guest dock. With reciprocal benefits from our Musket Cove Yacht Club, we sat out the gale with Grace attached firmly to the dock, and Mike and Brett attached firmly to the Yacht Club Bar.

Gale Warning flags

Wind Whilygig reading (knots)

26 miles across the sea…

From Redondo, we set sail on a relatively short leg to Two Harbors, on Catalina Island. With wind just forward of the beam and increasing, we were able to see how Grace performed in moderate conditions. With winds of 10-15 knots, and gusts to 20, we roared into Two Harbors, averaging speeds of 8.5 knots, and at one point hitting 9.4 knots. Once on the mooring ball at Two Harbors, we hung around for the uninspiring Cruiser’s Weekend, and drank most of the Buffalo Milk on the Island.

Downwind Bound

With a short hop from Two Harbors to Avalon, we got a chance to see how Grace would perform in downwind conditions. With our new whisker pole flying the massive headsail, we rambled our way downhill, until the wind quit. With this temporary lull, we used the opportunity to perform the ritual incantations of calibrating our autopilot.

Not a Boring Mooring

Avalon Harbor proved to be much more fun than Two Harbors. We met some great cruisers, had some memorable hikes, and even got to play tennis at the country club.

Leaving This Avalon

Sunsets like this in Avalon make the place hard to leave…

Oceanside-Long Glance

Our next big trip (second longest leg) was the 55 mile jaunt from Avalon to Oceanside. The forecast sounded promising: Wind West 15-20 knots, gusting 25 knots. This would give us a chance to sail downwind in some heavier air and see if everything stayed in one piece. Ripping out of the bay, we jibed a few times downwind to find the right angles, and then tried out the autopilot. To Mike‘s chagrin, the sophisticated autopilot actually outsailed him, hitting 10 knots with relative ease. Mike prides himself in maintaining boatspeed while hand steering, and to see a little grey box do better than him was remedied only by two dollar beers in Oceanside Harbor.

Sandy Eggo

From Oceanside, we had a fairly long run to San Diego. With two different yacht rallies leaving soon from San Diego, nearly every anchorage or marina slip was very unavailable. We dropped the anchor inside of Shelter Island in San Diego. It was nice to visit some old friends and see our new cruising friends at the anchorage.

Grace anchored in front of the San Diego Yacht Club

Continuations…

Now we’ve moved Grace back up to Ventura. Here’s a nice Ventura day, with Mike at the helm in about 15 knots, close hauled, doing about 7.5 knots. Good times.

We will have more soon!

American Sailing Association Shoot

We just got back from two days of shooting in Marina Del Rey, California.  We got a call out of the blue from a producer we have worked with before, and since he’s in Seattle, we were the closest assets to MDR that shoot in HD. The shoot was short instructional videos for the American Sailing Association. Because of the last-minitude, we actually didn’t get any hotel confirmation that night, so we drove up to MDR the first day of the shoot. Got up at 4 am, and left before 5 am.

The boat: J100

So we get up there and at the docks around 9 am, just before the shoot is to begin at 9:30. We meet the other crew and their ginormous camera, and see the featured boat we’re to be shooting – a brand new J100 – holy sweetness.

We meet a bunch of the other people involved, including the “talent,” Duncan, who is a great sailor and a really cool guy. Unfortunately for shooting, the day was completely overcast. Remember that this allegedly is Southern California.

Instructor Duncan making the strings pretty

We proceed to set up and film some of the very basic skills of the sailing world, how to tie a cleat, rigging spring lines, etc. Too exciting.

Then it’s time for the boat stuff – and it turns out they’ve hired a “model.”

She has zero sailing experience.

So we shoot her doing stuff like tying lines, and then it’s time to sail.

Duncan is playing the role of instructor, but he’s thinking it would be good to have someone else capable of handling the boat. I volunteer before he’s finished asking, nearly throwing the camera at Brett in my haste to sail a J100.

So, I sign my first ever model release (Heaven help us) and tell the girl I’ll be another person sailing with her.

She actually says “you look like a model,” so not only can she not sail, but it turns out she’s also legally blind.

Brett is shooting on the boat, mostly down below, because the other camera crew is set up on shore, right in the basin in MDR.

It’s blowing maybe 8-12 knots, which is perfection for the J100. Instructor Duncan is mic’ed up and giving instructions to his crew – Model A and me. We go through a couple of tacks in the very confined spaces, and I’m wondering “maybe we should tell her what to do at least a little bit?”

The "Models" looking crazy sexy in floatation devices

I felt terrible for losing some of my patience: “Can you let that line out please? Hey – can you let go of that line? HEY – LET GO!”

We didn’t crash the new J into the dock, but we had our moments.

The next day, the shoot again begins at 9:30 am.

But: there’s a problem: we don’t have any permits to shoot in LA County, and some of the yacht club people are complaining.

Just so you know, in order to shoot ANYTHING in LA – you need a permit.

So – now it’s almost 11, and we’ve driving around trying to figure out where to shoot, thinking we might be able to go to some public docks and shoot on the down low.

Suddenly, we get the okay, everyone got their paperwork in order, and their knickers out of twists. This day is way better for both shooting and sailing – sunny, winds 10-15 knots.

Model A does a way better job after I apologized for being a dick the previous day and explained how things would work very carefully.

reaching for a preaching

We sailed the crap out of the boat – the J100 is just insane, at times we were doing over 8 knots without a kite. Brett kicked ass as the onboard videographer, getting some insane sequences that will mesh nicely with the shore-based footy. Duncan was fantastic, sailing and talking and teaching all at the same time.

Duncan multitasking - sailing, teaching, and iPhoning.

We head back to the dock, and then shoot some more really basic lessons, and we were done by 5:30 pm. We also got a sneak peek at the new ASA instructional book: Sailing Made Easy.

We headed back to the studio after the shoot. Can’t wait to see what the editor comes up with – really glad we don’t have to edit all of this footage – two cameras shooting over four hours each. But it was a great time with great people, a great boat, and very good times.

– Mike

Praxis Universal Productions

Captain and crew making the boat go