When I’m not out sailing, I’ve been chipping away at a long list of projects.  The boat was in remarkably good condition to start, but she needs some liberally applied elbow grease and a fair bit of equipment before she'll be ready to head offshore.

The first project I tackled (figuring that my anchoring gear was the most important system on my boat) was overhauling and upgrading all of my ground tackle.  When I bought the boat, the primary anchor it had was a 22lb claw - which was in line with the manufacturers recommendations, but hardly a sufficient anchor for cruising down the coast.  It had a miserly 30 ft of chain attached to it (which was 5/16" high-test, not half bad!), which would also need supplementing.  In the end, I decided on a 45lb CQR and 150ft of 5/16" hot-dip-galvanized high-test chain which ought to allow me to anchor on an all-chain rode most of the time.  After the chain, I've got 250ft of nylon rode if I end up needing to anchor in really deep water.  I've also got the claw and a 16lb Danforth for backup and kedge anchors should I ever need them.  

In the process of working through my ground tackle, I found a lot of corroded metal, so I replaced the eye-splice and all the shackles and swivels.  I broke out a splicing fid that happened to be left on the boat and I found splicing directions in an old book lent to me by a friend in SLC called The Marlinspike Sailor.  I was expecting eye splicing to be exceedingly difficult, but it wasn't half bad.  Eye splices are only supposed to degrade the strength of a rope by a few percent whereas a knot can reduce it by 40 or 50%.

Another day, I decided it was about time to scrub out the bilge, which had been painted a long time ago, but had since built up a good amount of gunk and grime.  I'll spare you the pictures, but it was a pretty unsavory task.  I also took a day or two to scrub away all the growth and weather staining from the deck, once I can get a rainless day or two lined up, I'm going to give the topsides a good waxing so that I'll have to do less scrubbing the next time around.

The kitchen is one of the greatest areas of deficiency on the boat, both in layout and storage space.  There are no drawers for storing utensils and the sink is shallow and in a fairly inaccessible place.  Thus, I decided I would build a storage box to store underneath the stove in the foot-well of the starboard berth.  It has space for a garbage and excess plates, pots, and pans and also slots for cutlery and silverware.  It slides into the foot-well perfectly so that you can access everything once the stove is deployed out.  I'm in the process of varnishing it and putting weatherstripping along the lid so that I can store it on deck (and count on the contents staying dry) if someone needs to use that berth.  The lid will double as a big cutting board and work space.

I also overhauled the bronze water pump, whose leather diaphragm had atrophied to the point that it no longer drew water.  After a little strip of spare leather and some bacon grease to seal it off, the pump is working like new again!

You might've noticed that my mast has steps and I've put them to good use in going up to inspect the swages and fittings.  The rigging appears to be in good shape.  It is oversized and I can't find any serious corrosion, cracking, or split wires.  That said, I'm still a bit dubious of it because I know its about 12 years old.  I talked to a rigging company about coming out to take a quick look at it, but the $300 price tag for a simple inspection nixed that idea.  Instead I bought a couple books on rigging and I've been trying to find someone around the marina that has more extensive knowledge than I.  Whether I replace it or not, I'm planning to put together a repair kit in case I need it at sea.  

The boat came with a wide variety of different sails and I decided I should practice raising them all to make sure I knew the process and had adequate fasteners.  All of the smaller sails show little to no use (the previous owners appear to have been mostly fair-weather sailors) and everything is ready to go.

My latest accomplishment was the mounting of the Monitor Windvane I bought second-hand last week.  It was built in the 80s, but appears to still have plenty of life left.  Its built like a tank, with thick stainless steel tubing and good strong linkages.  I drilled and sealed all the mounting holes and it is good and snug.  I'm excited to put it to use sometime in the next few weeks.

The reality is - I’m coming into this venture with way more theoretical knowledge than practical knowledge, and that rubs me the wrong way.  I think its always better to learn by doing as opposed to learning from reading books.  Thus, the most important thing for me at this phase is getting out in the boat as much as possible, in different conditions and circumstances, and learning how the boat behaves.

My maiden voyage was with a crew of folks from around the marina.  We had about 10 knots of breeze and we headed out into Bellingham Bay to test the waters.  She sailed beautifully and we cruised around the bay on different points of sail for a couple hours.

Joining me were Mark (an ultrasound tech - flashing the peace sign below), Josh (a kayak guide and badass snowboarder from Alaska), and Monica (Josh's crew and a reportedly expert dumpling chef).

About a week ago - I went out on my first overnight trip.  We decided on a destination of Shallow Bay on Sucia Island.  Mark sailed along in his boat, and Michael also joined as crew on my boat.  We were only able to sail a couple of hours before a lack of winds forced us to motor the rest of the way.  Dissapointing, but on the upside, the motor putted along beautifully and we made good time.

We made a big dinner of Thai Chicken Curry on the boat and raised a pretty good ruckus that night.  In the morning, we blew up the dinghy and went to shore to explore the island.

Yesterday morning, there was a pretty strong breeze blowing (15-20 knots) and I decided to head out.  Mark came along, but we agreed that he wouldn't do anything unless I majorly messed something up.  I managed to get out into the bay and sail around all by myself for several hours and pilot it back in without him touching a sheet!  His advice and guidance was really helpful, but I managed the boat all on my own.  

The first night I slept on the boat, it happened to be really stormy.  It was blowing 45 knots outside and raining like crazy.  I hunkered down in my bunk, curled into my sleeping bag and listened to the sounds of the storm raging outside.  You could hear the wind whipping through the rigging and halyards all around the marina slapping against masts.  You could feel the boat bobbing around in its slip, straining against the dock lines and up on fenders.  The combined effect of all this movement and racket had an unexpected effect - I drifted off to sleep and slept soundly all night.

The next morning dawned clear.  There was still a stout breeze, but no sign of the rain from last night.  A dozen feet off the bow, a seal popped up and bobbed around for five or ten minutes, peeking at me and trying to decide if I had any old mackerel to share with him.

The next day, I fired up the wood stove for the first time and got it cranking with some scraps of kindling I had around.  It may be small, but it’s big enough to turn that little boat into an oven, with fans that blow on the chimney to move the heat around.  There is no better feeling when it’s raining and storming outside than to fire that sucker up and snuggle into my bunk with a good book and a whiskey cocktail.

Life is good.

After the boats I saw in California, I was wondering if 1) my budget was unrealistic or 2) I'd have to go to the east coast to find a suitable vessel.  One thing was abundantly clear, however: You cannot trust a sailboat listing at all.  Pictures lie.  The boats that looked best online turned out to be total dogs, some that were vague with blurry pictures turned out to be pretty clean and stout.

Thus, I lined up eight different showings in OR, WA, and BC.  The first one I looked at was a 33' Cape Carib ketch in St. Helens, OR.  It had tons of space, but the price was a little high and it would've needed lots of work to be ready to go offshore.  I decided to keep it in my back pocket and check out the others. 

The boat that I had been lusting after for a long time was in Ballard, WA.  It was a Pearson Triton that had been outfitted for open ocean racing and despite its outlandish paint job, it looked immaculate in the posting and I was confident it'd be my front-runner.  It was located at the edge of an industrial area and the marina was dirty and run-down.  When I finally got out to the boat, I found it to be a total piece of crap.  It was filthy, everything on it was half-assed, and after fifteen minutes of poking around it - I went on my way.

One day, I made the trek up to Vancouver to take a peek at a Contessa 26 from a Craigslist posting.  The seller told me to meet at the Maritime Museum and we would row out to the boat (which was anchored in Vancouver harbor).  I got the impression he would be a unique guy.

I crossed the border earlier in the day so I would have plenty of time to navigate around Vancouver and find the meeting spot.  I neglected to consider, however, that I was traveling in my truck - which was packed completely full of stuff and the border guards didn't take kindly to that.  I got flagged into the "additional scrutiny" zone and they gave me the riot act for an hour and a half, asking me dozens of questions and searching the truck from top to bottom.  They apparently thought I was trying to sneak into Canada to remain there forever.  Is it really so strange that someone would be traveling with all their possessions to look at a boat in Vancouver?  Hmm... yeah, I guess that is pretty strange.

I ended up meeting the seller on the beach in his inflatable dingy and we rowed out to his boat and talked for hours.  He had owned his own business, raised a family in the suburbs, and spent years slaving away for monetary gain.  Eventually he realized how little happiness that brought him and he decided to move onto a tiny sailboat.  It had clearly changed his life and he was one of the happiest guys I've ever met.  He had tons of incredible stories to tell, and though the boat wasn't anything to write home about, I drove back south with a big smile on my face and a lot more hope that things would work out alright.

The following day I had two appointments - the morning ended up being a dud, and the broker for the afternoon listing (a Tripp 30) called and said he couldn't make it because he had car troubles.  "Here we go again!" I thought, but he gave me the code to get in the gate and I went to take a look at it anyway.  As I strode up to the boat, I was immediately taken by it.  It had graceful lines, but a sturdy presence.  The second I stepped aboard, I knew she was the one.  I searched in vain for almost an hour to find some sort of major flaw, but she was clean, exceptionally stout, and just the right size and shape for the voyage ahead.  

I called the broker back and told him I was interested and asked about the boats owners, its history, and how flexible the price was. It sounded like I was in luck.  That following morning, I made a formal offer and started lining up a haul-out and survey.  

The surveyor picked over the boat with a fine tooth comb and found no major cause for concern.  I spent the afternoon in a daze, sitting on the boat, basking in the glow of the past few days.

She was built in 1960, right at the beginning of the era when fiberglass was introduced.  In that day and age, nobody understood just how strong fiberglass was, and as a result, she is built with the thicknesses and construction that you'd expect in an older wooden boat... which means shes strong as a bull and she can take a lot of abuse and punishment.  She was built in Holland and imported through New York, so though she is branded as a Seafarer, she was built in an industrial shipyard in Europe.  Shes covered in brass fittings and accented with lots of rich, varnished wood.  Shes quite clean and tidy (especially in comparison with other boats I looked at) and she even has lots of extra accessories, like a dingy and a tiller-pilot.  The sails are exceptionally heavy duty and they were made by Schattauer Sails specifically for offshore cruising.  They're almost 20 years old, but they still look and feel brand new.  I think my favorite part about the interior is the little  wood stove that heats her.

The closing is happening tomorrow and I've already started to clean her out and move my stuff on.  I'll be spending the next few months in the Bellingham area, sailing her around the bay, making additions/changes, and getting ready for the voyage to come.  I'm planning a christening ceremony sometime in April where I'll re-name her and perhaps do a little bit of partying.  More details to come.