2012
WaterTribe North Carolina Challenge in a Gig Harbor Melonseed
Every
boat design is a compromise. I have always been promiscuous when it comes to
boats (But I have been married to the same woman for 44 years!) because I am always
looking for more on one vector or another.
I have
competed Water Tribe Challenges in a Sea Pearl and in a Core Sound 20, both cat
ketches with attractive characteristics.
The Sea Pearl is a relatively quick double-ender that is a comfortable
camp cruiser (See "Third Annual Water Tribe Everglades Challenge" in the July 1, 2003 Messing About in Boats). The Core Sound is a quick, close-winded planing
center-boarder that just gets better as the wind pipes up (See "Toughest One Yet" in
the September- October 2012 Small Craft
Advisor and earlier in this blog). Neither boat rows worth a darn.
I also
paddled and sailed in three Everglades Challenges with Michael Collins in his
schooner-rigged Kruger Cruiser canoe (See "Two Grandpas Win The Everglades
Challenge" in the July-August 2004 Small Craft Advisor). We could paddle
faster than any sailboat and sail faster than most canoes and kayaks, but
sleeping on board leaves much to be desired.
I had a
Norseboat 17.5 sloop that sailed well and rowed moderately well, but it's
complicated gaff rig took forever to rig for a daysail. So, as I thought of the
next "mistress," my head was turned by the classic lines of the Gig
Harbor Melonseed. She had a single balanced lug sail (easy to set up for day sailing and to go under the low bridge filters in WaterTribe
races) and sliding seat rowing. I found one for sale in Virginia about the
same time I found a buyer for the Norseboat. The next chapter was set.
As I
sailed and rowed the new (to me) Melonseed, I was also thinking of my next
WaterTribe Challenge. I was sure her rowing characteristics made her a good bet
for the eight mile row under the low bridges in the 100 mile North Carolina
Challenge (sails are an option in the Gig Harbor Melonseed). I loved her turn of speed downwind, and I
figured that she would sail OK into the wind.
The question was, whether this little boat had characteristics that were
conducive to the 300 miles of the Everglades Challenge.
The sail
had only one set of reef points and the WaterTribe requires two, so I contacted Gig Harbor Boat Works to find out who would be the best folks to
do this. They not only recommended
Glaser Sails in Huntington Beach, California, but they offered to pay for the
modification. Glaser did a quick turnaround on the sails while I practiced
rowing, added navigation lights, and made crutches so the mast and rig could be
stored high enough for me to row.
The last
weekend in September finally arrived, and I made the 700 mile drive to Cedar
Island, North Carolina for the race. I
got there a day early to explore the short cut through the island about a mile to
the east of the start/finish that several competitors discovered the year before -
it's a shallow bay, but it saves almost six miles, so it would be worthwhile in
all but the lowest tides. I got the boat
onto the start beach early and was able to have everything but food and
electronics on board in plenty of time for socializing, looking at other boats,
and the mandatory captains' meeting.
Dawn
arrived on Friday morning way too early and we assembled on the beach for final
adjustments, roll call, a picture, and the wait for the ferry to Okracoke to
clear the area. About 7:30 the air horn
sounded and we were off.
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Looking out on Pamlico Sound just before the start
The tide
was especially low due to the full moon and I had to drag the Melonseed a bit
to get into deep water, but I was soon rowing and then sailing. The wind, which was calm at first, increased
to about 5 mph with the sunlight and it wasn't exactly on the nose. The kayaks and canoes paddled away, and the
sailboats tacked toward the turn onto the Neuse River and a reach down the
river.
As we put
the end of Cedar Island behind us and sailed into the reach between Raccoon
Island and Big and Little Swan Islands, the wind quit and the water became
glassy. It was time to row again! I could see a Core Sound 17 and a Lightning
behind me, and Marine helicopters were practicing strafing runs on targets on
Raccoon Island (a clearly marked restricted area). It seemed like a long time, but the wind
finally began to blow as we approached the end of Raccoon Island. I had no trouble staying ahead of the two sailboats
while rowing, but they eased past me on a reach as the wind picked up and we
rounded the end of the island and turned into the wind. Slowly their sails disappeared and I was
tacking alone up the Neuse.
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The Core Sound near the end of Cedar Island with no wind
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From time
to time the wind would drop, and I would row for a while, then it would pick up
and I would resume tacking. The worst
case scenario was a light wind on the nose, and that was what I had most of the
day. The Melonseed sailed reasonably
close to the wind on ne tack, but it was not very impressive on the other tack
(when the mast would compromise the shape of the sail).
Darkness
overtook me still on the Neuse. The wind
had picked up and there was a steep two foot chop, but the Melonseed's flared
bow kept me relatively dry. At one point,
a couple of fast, quiet stealth boats zoomed up without lights. I shined my bright flashlight onto the sail
(probably blinding them if they were using night vision goggles) and the passed
close by with little wake. I understand
that there is a lot of training for SEALs and special operations forces in this
area.
As I
neared the entrance to Clubfoot Creek, the wind dropped. I lowered the sails and took down
the mast, rigging for rowing. For the
first mile or two, the current was against me and the tide was dropping, then
the current turned in my favor. I
managed to get lost on a side passage that was so narrow that I had to break
out a canoe paddle because the oars touched both shores. The GPS doesn't have the upper end of
Clubfoot Creek and the beginning of the Harlowe Canal in exactly the right
place, and exactly is what is required at low tide.
The light line is the track of me getting lost where the Harlowe Canal meets Clubfoot Creek
Even with
a full moon, the canal was a challenge to row.
I could not see snags and fallen trees Since I was facing the stern, and
even looking over my shoulder did not help since the trees interlaced overhead,
filtering the moonlight. After a couple
of hours, the steep sides and arrow-straightness of the canal gave way to marsh
grasses and meandering channel of Harlowe Creek. Tide was dead low on this end, and I ran
aground several times in the estuary. (I
later learned that the Core Sound and Lightning were aground nearby, but I did
not see them as high, thin clouds were covering the moon.)
In the
darkness, I re-stepped the mast and raised the sails. The wind was picking up and favorable, and I
was able to sail (albeit with the daggerboard mostly raised) across the shallow
bay they call the Newport River and into the old seaport town of Beaufort. The drawbridge (which raises on the half
hour) was to be down door another 25 minutes and my VHF radio had finally died
(it had been through 5 Everglades Challenges and 3 North Carolina Challenges on
my life jacket, so I was not surprised), so I pulled up on a beach beside the
bridge and lowered the sail and mast again.
As I
rowed out, the Core Sound, the Lightning, and WaterTribe's Chief (in a Kruger
Sea Wind with a Balogh sail rig) arrived.
Their radios were working and the bridge tender opened up. We rowed and
paddled together into the checkpoint, arriving at 7 AM.
After
checking in and fixing breakfast, Chief and I pushed off together with a
favorable tide in Taylor Creek. We had
favorable winds and sailed on a reach until we turned the corner at the end or
Harkers Island. As we entered Core
Sound, the wind was once again on the nose and a tacking battle ensued. We continued to tack the rest of the morning
and on until mid-afternoon. Slowly one tack became more favorable and we were
close-hauled and, later, close reaching.
I was out in the middle of the Sound and Chief was much closer to the
shore, but we could still see one another's sails.
This
continued for several more hours. As we
approached the little town of Atlantic, about 17 miles from the finish, in the
late afternoon, I noticed flashes of light.
Since there was no sound, I kept thinking that there was more bombing
going on on Raccoon Island. I should
have paid more attention to the clouds, but I was only thinking of the
finish.
When I
realized that that the flashes were lightning a and that there was a wall cloud
approaching, I turned toward shore. But
the wind was picking up and blowing right at me and the seas were building
fast. I lowered the sails into the hull,
put on foul weather gear, and dropped into the bottom of the boat. The storm raged around me. Seas quickly built to about three to four
feet. Lightning was striking all around
and visibility was severely limited. At
one point a Parker trawler came by to see if I needed help, but I felt safe
riding ahull. I took on about five
inches of water from the rain, but very little from the seas.
As the
winds and rains eased, I began to assess the situation. I was cold and tired. I had blisters on my hand and butt from
rowing for over 16 hours. I had been up
for almost 36 hours, and I had to drive across North Carolina the next day (you
can nod off on a boat, but the consequences are much greater!). I had blown across Core Sound to the shallows
on the edge of the Outer Banks.
The track showing the initial turn toward shore, getting blown toward the Outer Banks, then sailing into shore at Sea Level
I decided
to end my trip in the interest of safety.
If I kept going (the wind was again foul), it would be after midnight
when I finished. And I still would have
to load and unpack the boat for traveling. I pushed the OK on my SPOT to let
race management know that I was OK and began to sail into the shore. I would land near the little town of Atlantic
on a little beach at a fish processing plant.
Locals were very helpful and got me back to Cedar Island by dark. I later learned that Chief had weathered the
storm near shore and finished after midnight.
The winning Class 4 (monohull sailboats) boat - a lug-rigged CLC Noreaster Dory built and sailed by Neil Calore of Philadelphia (also known as Leatherlungs)
So, what did I learn? I learned to budget enough time. If I had an extra day at the end of the race, I would have had no problem doing the final 17 miles and finishing after midnight. I could also have afforded the time for a little rest. The boat did well. Lug rigs do not always go to the wind well (though there is a heated discussion in Small Craft Advisor about this right now). It rows very well for a sailboat. It took good care of me in the storm and in the chop. I would want more storage and to devise a way to sleep on board if I were to take her on an Everglades Challenge. As it is, she is my go to boat for day sailing.
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