by Jurgen Braunohler

THE MOOSE sneaked up behind me, while I worked on the boat in Elliot Lake. If I hadn’t made an inadvertent loud noise, she might have poked her nose over my shoulder to see what I was doing. But the startled animal, boxed in on three sides by fences, panicked and bucked like a bronco. Suddenly, hooves and broken bits of fence and tree branches flew in every direction as I ducked behind a parked van. She ran off and five minutes later the property owner drove in (nice of the cavalry to arrive). But my comment that a moose had demolished the place was met with looks of disbelief.

That encounter with the moose set the tempo for the first major work on my new boat, the Sea Venture. She is a 19-foot, Mariner Class sloop with a small cabin and a cast iron centreboard. She was a cheap and lucky find but the hull left much to be desired: a broken through-hull fitting and a hole, a serious gouge, major corrosion and the need of a paint job. This meant building a cradle to elevate the boat high enough to remove the trailer and to get at the damage. It was easier said than done.

First things first however. The summer of 2010 was spent cleaning her out, after dealing with another animal visit: a beehive in the trailer frame. I don’t know what it is with boats and animals : my Bonita at our club has hosted raccoons, skunks, wasps, even a beaver who tried to chew down the aluminum mast while I slept aboard. Years of filth and mold were removed from Sea Venture, in some places nearly deep enough to plant a garden; and with a time limit when the boat has to be moved. But the results were satisfactory when I finally moved aboard and switched on the cabin lights.

The Mariner sloops originated in Maryland as the 19-foot Hurricane Class — an open dinghy designed by Phillip L. Rhodes after the Second World War. Keels and cuddy cabins were added to create a local one-design, before George O’Day bought the hull-building molds. A gold medal Olympic sailor, George founded the renowned O’Day Company and used the molds to make the popular Rhodes 19. Bunk beds and modifications for family cruising later resulted in the Mariner Class : a cabin yacht in a dinghy-size hull known as a pocket cruiser (the smallest of these are known as micro cruisers), many with centreboards and all with flotation.

I spent much time in creating several designs for the cradle, before getting it right. Trusting my life under the boat to four wobbly columns of cinderblocks and spindly timbers, simply would not do. Nor could I rely on sufficient funds to buy the right stuff. But I couldn’t account for the personalities that reside in Elliot Lake and the now steady stream of human visitors – as opposed to animal ones — who gravitated to the big green ship in the driveway. My kind landlord gave me the old wood from our re-planked back porch, a welcome help. But it was still a lot of work, and time was running out, including the vessel-hoisting process, a major operation if one can’t afford a crane.

One night, the local guys showed up to give me a surprise work party, complete with lights, drink and music. Suddenly, I ran my legs off measuring and rushing lumber to the circular saw they brought. Even threaded rod was whisked out of my hands, and with a “here, step on this!” was promptly hand-cut. It could have been a scene straight out of Farley Mowat’s novel The Boat Who Wouldn’t Float. But Mother Nature paid the final visit by unleashing the first major snowstorm just before I finished and was able to cover Sea Venture again. My mother approached the boat with a camera, greatly amused by the caricature of the giant snowcone that covered the Skipper and his vessel, madly bailing it overboard in a swirling cloud with a bucket. Laughing, she said: “Isn’t that something you’re supposed to do during the summer?”

THIS is the second of several articles written by Ian Pinnell of P&B Sailmakers, Northampton, UK. Our thanks are due to Chris Tattersall for sending them in here.

Pinnell started sailing in Mirrors and Enterprises. He is respected internationally for his
sailing prowess and versatility across classes which include 420, 470, Miracle, Enterprise, Fireball, 505, Soling, Mumm 30, Melges 24 and Int14.

He has won thirty-five World, European and National championships.

He won the 1989 Endeavour Trophy (Champion of Champions) and was 1991 Helmsman of the Year.

In 2008 he won the 505 Worlds.

THE FIRST beat is not a place to be greedy or to take big risks.

Assuming you have negotiated the start in good shape, your all-consuming task up the first beat is to get to the windward mark first or at least ahead of your principal rivals if it’s an important championship.

There are a number of things you should try to do in preparation for the all important first beat and these are carried through before the start so don’t be late in the starting area.

You should have time to sail a good chunk preferably all of a windward leg.

It is worth carrying a time chart and taking compass headings every two minutes up the beat to try and establish a pattern in the local conditions.

It is a lot simpler if you can get a ‘team-mate’ to work up the beat with you so that you can make cross-tacking references.

Certainly, though, you should have a clear idea of your route, which will also give you valuable information on where to make your start on the line.

If you are very unfamiliar with the area, there can be a lot to learn from chattting with the locals.

In popular venues there may have been a championship the previous week, so it could be worth getting there early enough to talk to outgoing sailors on their experiences.

Back on the race course, play the percentages after the start — usually tacking just to the left or right of centre of the beat, always trying to keep between main rivals and the mark.

Off the startline or out of the gate, hang on to a tack untilheaded by at least five degrees; anything less is not worth worrying about.

You may have to revise this plan if sailors you respect start ‘banging the corners,’ but it doesn’t happen often.

Keep an open mind that they just might know something you’ve missed.

Your crew should play a major role up the beat, acting as your eyes while you apply all your concentration on sailing the boat hard.

I reckon 80% of the outcome of the race will be decided during this first twenty minutes or so.

And in a good fleet, you’re unlikely to recover from screwing it up.

The crew must give you a complete picture of rivals’ positions, starboard tack boats, compass headings, shifts across the course approach of layline, etc.

If you really have got yourself buried at the start, you must get on to port and into clear air quickly : there’s an awful lot of lift to be had off the sails of starboard boats as you duck and weave fast through the fleet.

And if the sun really is shining out of your bunghole and you really do get lifted as well, you can still get to the mark in surprisingly good shape ! Unless you’ve got some very special inside knowledge — or divine intervention — never get onto the layline further than fifteen boat’s lengths from the mark.

Too many things can go wrong and you just don’t need to risk it.

On the other hand, if you find yourself on port, approaching a procession of starboard layline boats the chances are they have overstood and it is worth a well executed lee-bow attack to get round the mark especially if you’re in a fast-tacking, fast-accelerating boat like an Enterprise or a Twelve.

Don’t count on it every time though ! There are a few other things that might influence the way you tackle the first beat, Some courses (for instance where you might have a windward mark under cliffs) need special attention to well known local wind bend.

In very heavy air, too, tack less and wait for bigger shifts, concentrating on developing maximum boat speed and minimizing the times the boat isn’t travelling flat out.