Patrick Carroll: Can't Stay Put

Boat Owners Again

2022-07-23T09:27:00.000-09:00

Patrick, Kenzie, Finn & Fjord in front of our 1980 Ericson 30

These are but a few glimpses into the wonderful (and expensive) world of sailing in which we find ourselves.

Story time:

Back in December I was doing my hourly scan of Craigslist to see if I could find anything. Lo and behold I see and ad for a 30' Ericson sloop for cheap...like MY price range cheap. I put it in my mind, and contacted the owners right away. After I dropped Kenzie and the boys off in Utah, I figured I would make the most of my airport run and check out the boat while I was down in town [Honolulu]. I saw the boat, it looked to be sold, but the previous owners lived aboard for nearly 4 years and it was covered in junk. The interior looked scary, there were empty prescription bottles everywhere, so many cigarete butts, and a few bongs lying around. Anyway, fast forward a few months. I kept tabs on the boat, waiting for when they would actually pull the trigger to sell it. Finally in May they were ready. I went down to scrape the bottom clean. As I worked on the boat, and they moved their stuff off, the guy started freaking out because I was getting too close to the through hulls and he was worried I'd cause a leak. That troubled me. I spent a couple hours chipping barnacles off of the bottom of the boat. It looked like an alien landscape! There were so many tube worms, crabs, and soft corals that I was pretty sure I saw some new species I had never witnessed in the coral reefs around the island. After cleaning it, we went back down the next day to hopefully sail it away to a new dock. In the end, we did all the paperwork and stayed at the Ke'ehi Small Boat Harbor temporarily for about 3 weeks. It was right under the airport takeoff zone, so it got kinda loud.

On our first sail out, we brought along some friends and decided to just sail the whole way. I swam a line out to a pillar in the bay, pulled the boat back and let us drift so we were pointing into the wind, then popped up the jib (which ended up being a tiny sail, almost a storm jib) and shoved off. We started sailing in the gusty weather...the wrong way. We headed back to a dock, almost bumped into another boat. Finally got her flipped around, and went sailing. It was all pretty uneventful, till we started coming back in. Other guys came out on their sailboat to rescue us. They respected me for trying to do it all with sail, but thought it was foolhardy with the kids aboard, and the reef being so close. The channel to get in and out of the harbor is about 500' wide, and very long. It takes a good half hour just to get OUT of the harbor. As the guys pulled close in their 27' albin vega sloop, a pod of dolphins came to play. They put on quite the show! They would dive under the boats, hop in the air, twirl, and converge as the rode down the face of a wave.

Riley, a skipper who lives on a Dreadnought 32 when he's not playing "deadliest catch" up in Alaska hopped across from one boat to ours. He took over. Normally my pride would have been injured, but it was the first time on a new boat in a new harbor in a new ocean. I was a little reluctant to hand over the helm, but at the same time willing to learn. We put up the mainsail to balance out the rig and allow us to tack. We were able to head back in all the way up the long channel and tie up at an end dock safely. Riley went through at least 4 beers completing this maneuver. We then "hip-tied" an inflatable dinghy to the side, and motored to a dock. Hopefully we get better at this docking and undocking thing.

So much to do, so little time

2022-04-18T08:12:00.006-09:00

Now that I have your attention, let me just say that we had to pay money to go out, and then TRY to see sharks to find them. I know people get scared about them being in the water, but for the most part, they don't care about you. Unlike what Rob Schneider says in 50 First Dates, sharks are not like dogs. sharks are like cats. I feel like dolphins are the golden retrievers of the sea, and sharks are the cats, they kind of prowl around, take care of themselves, and will even curl up if you pet them right. They are apex predators, but unless they are bigger than you, it would seem to be a calorie deficient activity to attack a human when there are so many more bite sized fish around. . When the engines on this tour boat were revved, the sharks frenzied around playing in the bubbles. As soon as we got in the water with them: crickets. The sharks were 50-60 feet down. It was amazing and we want to go back. The experience was a little disappointing, but at the same time it really helped Kenzie's apprehension about having our babies in the water. They love to adventure, and we love to share with them.

One thing we love to do is paddleboard. Kenzie found a good deal on inflatable paddleboards in Wisconsin at Costco, and we've had them ever since. We have bought this brand for 3 generations of board now. There's a new model out, but we don't need more. We bought a total of five inflatable stand up paddle boards so I can run tours as a side gig. It works out well when I have a set schedule, but lately my schedule has been fluctuating so much, and Kenzie has had so many extracurricular activities, that I don't get to do many tours anymore. When we were first getting started on Airbnb, we brought friends along to see what they thought. We go up a peaceful river, and swing from a rope into the cool fresh water. When we go as a family (and not for a tour) I will usually have Fjord on my front or back, and Finn on the board. He's got some pretty good balance now.

I love taking people out to share a bit of the history and the culture of the area. I'm always surprised by who will choose to do the rope swing, and who will skip it because they're chicken.

Kawela Bay (In Hawai'i, the "W" letter is pronounced with a "V" sound. Haleiwa is pronounced hall-ay-ee-vah. Kawela Bay is pronounced Kah-vell-ah), is one of our all time favorite hidden gems on the North Shore. The sunsets here are the best by far. Kenzie does a tour here where I take people paddle boarding, then she teaches them how to paint the sunset, and they conclude with a little yoga session. Since she has been officially certified as a yoga instructor, we try and sprinkle it in wherever we can.

At first I didn't even know this place existed, but when I was in school I did a mini-internship here and they took us on a property tour in golf carts so we could see the 1300 acres Turtle Bay has to offer. It was amazing, and this spot was particularly pristine. They filmed some episodes of LOST here, a Pirates of the Caribbean movie, and even the fancy water circle cornucopia scene from Hunger Games 2.

Turtle Bay has changed a lot since my mini-internship, and now I actually work here. It was a goal I had when were first starting out on the North Shore. You tend to get used to the beauty of a place if you visit it enough, but every now and then I walk in to my place of work, and see the sun rising over the infinity pools, and see the palm trees swaying in the wind and I think, 'man, I am one lucky son of a gun!'

Kawela Bay is a go-to spot for seeing turtles. We never fail to see at least 3 of them popping their heads up as they munch on the seagrass that grows on the coral heads. The water is fairly murky because of the shallow depth and sandy bottom. It's not the best for snorkeling, but once when paddleboarding I saw turtles 18 times! Twice I even saw a big one pull up on the shore next to one of the beach houses. Ahh how lucky to have those homes. I guess the bar is always raised as to what would be nice. (oh to live in Hawaii, oh to live in Hawaii and have a job, oh to live in Hawaii and have a job and a house...etc.)

When we first got here, we had to move out of our apartment for 4 days before moving 100% in. We decided to go camping with our 2-month old Finn. It was so fun, and we got to check out two new campsites. Malaekahana (close to home now on the North Shore), and Aiaia (one of the hardest words to pronounce just by looking at it). We camped on the ground and put in an air mattress to stay comfy. The mattress was great but it took up a lot of vertical real estate, and now that we have two boys, we need a bigger tent. One of my favorite purchases was this tree tent by tentsile. I've had my eye on these for years, but I always thought they were too expensive. Kenzie found on on craigslist for cheap and it was very very used, but still functional. It is so fun to sleep up in the trees and not worry about roots and mud in your back. I started renting it out on Airbnb, but it was a lot of work to set up, and I had to hike all these people to the free site that I know of in the backcountry. I would wash the stuff after it got used, and I think I washed the waterproofing off of the rain fly. We had one pair who put me through the ringer. They got rained on, and left their stuff and my stuff up in the middle of the night. I had to go up and clean up their rubbish and then hike down with almost 100 Lb of gear. It was crazy. The next couple broke the tent poles, so I decided, NO MORE rentals from me. I want to fix the poles because I love this tent. I want to try camping in it over the river some day. Finn loves it too, it's like a trampoline, slack line, and hammock all in one.

Someday I'll have my own catamaran anchored in a tropical bay.

We love coming to Waimea Bay in the summer. The water is flat and clear. You can usually dive right off the beach. There is a great big rock for cliff diving, and some great spots to anchor. I miss sailing so much. I put an ad out on the interwebs to see if someone had a sailboat to share. Lo and behold I found someone willing to share the boat for half the dock fee. At the time I was a poor student and I couldn't afford even that, so I offered to do some chores on the boat. Anyway, we took it out sailing a couple of times. The first time we went out and the owner zipped by with his family on his other boat to go see the sharks (see video 1). After we were all back in and tied up to the dock, they asked, "Did you guys see those whales?!" It was whale season, but we didn't see any, and we assumed they must have seen them way out where they could get to on their much faster speed boat. "There were about six of them following you guys." They said. I couldn't believe we missed it! I can't wait to get out there on my own boat so we can go as far as we want.

The second time we took it out, I brought a buddy along with us. Kenzie swears that the swells were like mountains and she thought the waves were too big. My buddy got seasick and threw up. *Side note* if wondering which side of the boat to puke off of, it's the side where you're not vomiting into the wind...that's the correct side.

We sailed about an hour from Haleiwa to Waimea Bay. I dropped anchor, and dropped the sails. It was then that I started to feel queasy. I went below to check the bilge since the boat had an annoying habit of leaking like a sieve whenever the engine was running. I did have to run the engine to get out of the harbor, and then to speed up our progress when we were about 10 minutes out of Waimea. As such, the sea was sloshing over the floorboards. That was an uncomfortable feeling. I prefer the water to be on the outside of the boat. When I was down below, I got my first bout of seasickness ever. It was not fun. I did end up feeling better after throwing up, but in the end I just had to try and take my mind off of it by working. I hopped in with a scraper and went about cleaning the hull. Where I anticipated a month or so of slime buildup, I was greeted by 3 inches of coral growing on the keel! I had never seen anything like it. This boat hadn't had the bottom scrubbed in so long, it had become a reef. Scraping and chipping was made more difficult by my seasickness, and by the fact that the boat kept lolling and bobbing on top of me with each swell. Kenzie had made the suggestion to anchor further in to shore, closer to the cliffs. Since it wasn't my boat, and I wasn't sure of the depth all around the bay, I didn't want to risk running into the rocks. Now that I know the area better, I will definitely pull closer in for more protection. The boat rocked and rolled while I chipped, and the bilge pump worked happily away draining the cabin.

When it was time to pull the anchor and head home, I turned the key in the ignition and *click*. Dead battery. The bilge pump had sucked the floor, and the battery completely dry. Looking back at it, I don't think I isolated the batteries correctly. Typically you will have an engine battery for starting the motor, and a house battery for running lights and pumps and such. You rotate a selector switch to make sure you are on the right battery. Left for the engine, right for the house, and center for both. I think I left it in the center position. Either way, I called the owner, Paul, and told him of the predicament. He said he had a spare battery on his other boat back in Haleiwa. We were worried for a bit, then I kind of shook myself and thought, 'what the heck am I worried about, this is a sailboat after all. I put up the main, unfurled the jib, and headed back the way we came. The going was much easier, not pounding into the waves. Once we got close to the harbor I furled in the jib to scrub off some speed. When we were in the harbor I had my buddy, McKay, get on the bow with the anchor ready to drop. The wind was still blowing pretty good, but I did not want to try and make it into the cramped slip at the back of the marina at full speed. I spotted an empty dock right where I needed it to be. I quickly threw the tiller to the side, pulling off a tidy U-turn, and pointed straight into the wind. Once we had stopped, I gave the order to drop the anchor. We were held fast for a moment, but we were right in the middle of the channel. I did not want to block traffic. We eased out the anchor line, and slowly (using the wind on our nose) backed into the empty dock. In the end it worked like a charm. I had to grab the spare battery, and then use jumper cables from my van and about 30 minutes of time to charge it up enough to start the diesel engine, but then I chugged over to the proper slip and put it all away as if nothing had happened.

Night Snorkeling

2022-04-04T08:02:00.004-09:00

One of my favorite things about being in Hawaii is that I can swim anytime I want, all year round. The water is definitely saltier than I grew up with on Lake Michigan, but it's a small trade off for the variation of life that you get to see here. The water is clear, and warm (usually). The sights are unbelievable. As soon as we moved here we got snorkel kits, and have used them extensively. I got SCUBA certified in my second semester of school, but sadly have not gotten a tank on my back since the final certification dive.

What I love with the ocean is that the life beneath the waves doesn't follow the same rules that it does out here in the air. Here everything has it's head, mouth, eyes, brain, and all that pretty much in the same spot. Underwater, the line between plant and animal is blurred so much that I often don't know what I'm looking at. Tiny creatures make up the largest structures around. The reefs are plentiful, and house myriad fishes, snails, cucumbers, and other life. Sadly, with all this beauty, I do see a lot of trash. We live on the windward side of the island, and the tradewinds blow pretty steadily all year. With the wind comes the trash. Mostly it's all beautiful, but I feel saddened when I see a beach covered with broken milk crates, fishing lures, and other rubbish. We are so proud of Finn though. WHenever he sees ANY trash, he picks it up and announces, "Just saved a sea turtle!".

I have a buddy who is always out hunting and spearfishing. He's the consummate outdoorsman. I have always loved the look of spearfishing. I used to follow Kimi Swimmy on Insta back in the day when I was hip and on all the social medias. Anyway, he took me spearfishing once. It was quite the experience. You have to go beyond the reef to get to the big fish. Now, between the reef and the beach, it's pretty calm because the energy of the waves is dissipated on the coral before it hits shore. Beyond the reef it is also pretty calm because the waves are just swells of energy with nothing to stop them, so you just bob around a bit. It's that tricky part right ON the reef that things get dicey. All the swells trying to get to shore pile up on top of the reef and make the large, surfable, waves you see on TV. They're great if you want to surf on top of the water, but if you are trying to make your way under the water, it's a bit more difficult.

I marveled at my friend's ability to stay down on the bottom waiting for a fish. Spearfishing is the most sustainable form of fishing. I feel like you are hunting the fish on their own territory. You get to select just the right fish, and there's not accidental bycatch. Fishing with a single line is not as, but you might hurt the wrong animal you're not going for, and I can't tell you how many lead weights and stray fishing lines I have found in the ocean. Commercial fishing nets destroy whole fishing zones and all the habitats around. Anyway, even though it looks amazing, and is the most eco-friendly way to fish, it was still too sad for me to be down there, seeing these beautiful, colorful, graceful fish, and then shooting one. After getting a fish, he handed it to me while he got it strung up to his float. I'm pretty sure it stared at me as it died.

After a while of swimming around, we started to head back in. Surprise surprise, the fish was no longer there. To which my friend said, "I thought I felt something tugging on the line. A shark must have eaten it." I will definitely think twice before accepting a freshly killed fish while I am still in the water, and I will probably not go spearfishing again.

This same buddy also leads night snorkeling tours. He goes to a popular snorkel spot that I've been to many times. It feel like swimming in an aquarium because of all the colorful reef fish, and the clear water. At night time it's a whole different ballgame. All of the slower moving -and in many ways, more exotic- animals hide during the day, and come out to do their business at night.

Giant cowrie shells clung to the underside of jagged rocks. Holes of varying size and sharpness opened up to a hidden underworld. Crustaceans of all sorts crawled out to feed. They are some of the most easily spotted nocturnal animals since their eyes glow like bright LEDs when hit by a flashlight.

Creatures I took to be mainly stationary actually crawled around during the late-night hours. There were several types of urchins. Black spine urchins (hurt to step on, happened twice), Hawaiian banded urchins (poisonous, avoid), and boring urchins (so-named for their ability to bore into solid rock, and not so much for their lack of witty conversation) were all out in abundance.

Sea stars were oddly rare on the nights I have been out night snorkeling. I went a few times with my buddy, but then he had his appendix out and needed some help to carry things while he recovered. This was a great way to have fun and make a few bucks. I suppose I did well enough that he let me take over the tours while he was on vacation. I am not as good of a photographer, but it was still great to share this underwater world with others, and feel more a part of it myself.

Who would have thought that snails and slugs were some of the most beautiful and mysterious creatures of the night?

There are two types of octopus that I have been able to interact with on these night tours. They are so intelligent and aware that I have completely sworn off of calamari. It was never one of my favorite dishes, but I still felt like I had to try some when I went to Chinese buffets. The only way to stop animals from being hunted, is to stop ordering them on the menu. I don't know why I don't feel this way about all animals yet, but perhaps someday I'll either get over it, or become vegetarian.

Anyway, they have complete control over each individual sucker on each of their eight limbs. This poor guy is down to six tentacles and two stubs. I hope that it is due to fights with other sea creatures, and not due to mishandling by humans. Perhaps someday I will be ok with just looking and not touching. With the octopus, I always try to respect them. I reach out to see if they want to be held, or to play, but they are very descriptive with their body language. If he changes color, tries to squirt away, or just reached out and slaps my hand away, then I back off and give him his space. Their bodies and tentacles feel like a mix between Jello and Velcro.

That there ladies and gents is a cone snail with his harpoon out

"All cone snails are venomous and capable of "stinging" humans; if live ones are handled their venomous sting will occur without warning and can be fatal. The species most dangerous to humans are the larger cones, which prey on small bottom-dwelling fish; the smaller species mostly hunt and eat marine worms. Cone snails use a hypodermic needle-like modified radula tooth and a venom gland to attack and paralyze their prey before engulfing it. The tooth, which is sometimes likened to a dart or a harpoon, is barbed and can be extended some distance out from the head of the snail, at the end of the proboscis.

Cone snail venoms are mainly peptides. The venoms contain many different toxins that vary in their effects; some are extremely toxic. The sting of small cones is no worse than a bee sting, but the sting of a few of the larger species of tropical cone snails can be serious, occasionally even fatal to humans. Cone snail venom is showing great promise as a source of new, medically important substances" -Wikipedia

Who can tell me what this is?

The patterns and shapes that life under the sea takes is really awe-inspiring

I wish I had picture of all that I saw. These are just a few of the species I noticed while out at night. For some reason, it just felt more adventurous. The water may have been clear, but it was still eerie to only have a field of vision as far and wide as my small flashlight could penetrate. Sometimes surprises loomed around the next rock. We once came upon a 6-foot long brown moray eel! It's not their fault they look so mean, they are just breathing; but still, I wouldn't want one to lunge and make off with my finger.

These are Toby fish. They are so cute, and they puff up and squeak if you try to hold them. They are part of the boxfish/puffer fish family, but they have no spines.

Here is our friend from earlier. The jeweled anemone hermit crab. Apparently hermit crabs really do like to stack things on their shells to be all Shiny! In this case, they put anemones on their backs. The anemones get a free ride to better food, and the hermit crab gets protection in the form of stinging anemones in case someone tries to eat them.

Well there you have it, a tiny glimpse into the underwater world of Hawaii. I hope to keep sharing these adventures with you as time goes by. I have a lot of catching up to do!

Aloha!

2022-03-29T15:42:00.004-09:00

How could I possibly catch up on all that has happened in the past few years? I suppose I should start a whole new blog about my family and our adventures. Since last writing, we have had another baby boy, I have graduated from BYU-Hawaii, and we are still living on the North Shore of Oahu.

This is one of those places that I heard about but never really wanted to go to because it was so cliche, and far too expensive for me. Once I started looking at pictures though, I found that I really did want to visit. I never believed that I would one day live here. I suppose good things happen if you just take a leap and make it work.

I won't lie, it is very expensive to live here. A small two bedroom apartment will easily run north of $2,000 a month, gas is $5.00/gallon, and we can rarely leave the grocery store for under $100.

In exchange for all of the green leaving my wallet, we get to experience lush green forests all year round, pristine turquoise waters, beautiful hiking trails, world class surfing, whale watching, and so much more. Having been to Costa Rica, I would say that that has a much more natural vibe to it, and you don't have to deal with as much crowding and pollution as you do on Oahu, but it's still amazing.

I'll try to sum up some of the highlights over the past years we have lived here. Let's see, last time, Kenzie broke her arm on Christmas, and Finn was a little baby. Finn is now 2 years and 9 months old, and his baby brother, Fjord, is almost 9 months old. Finn started life as a baldy, weighing in at 10 lb. 2oz. BIG BABY. Fjord had a full head of black, black hair, and was 9 lbs. even. We thought they'd be Thor and Loki, but Fjord's hair has since fallen out and is growing back in blonde.

What a stud!

We have been blessed to explore quite a lot of what this island has to offer. We have done a lot of the hikes that you can take kids on. We want them to be with us because it's hard to find a babysitter, and we want our kids to be adventurous. As Finn is getting more independent, we wonder if maybe we didn't raise him a little too gung ho. The other day we took our inflatable SUP paddle boards out to this island called 'Chinaman's hat'. (I have a small airbnb experience business where I take people paddle boarding up a serene river a few times a week to make ends meet)

Sleepy Beeb

The kids love the boards. Finn can easily sleep on them, and now loves to jump off. Fjord will usually be in a front back or back pack, but he loves to have his little feet drag in the water; or, barring that, grab the paddle out of my hands so he can do it. Anyway, we paddled out to this island, pulled the boards up on the rocky beach. There was a huge sea turtle that had puled up on shore. The poor thing is so covered in sores and tumors, I almost can't stand to look at her. We began our ascent of this steep and dusty trail. I elected to leave Finn in his lifejacket because it comes with a convenient grab handle. I never let it out of my grip. It was a long way down.

We got to the crux of the climb where we needed to go up some ropes. He bawled because I wouldn't let him do it all on his own. Normally I'd say "go for it", but the risk of death was a tad too high for my tolerance level. The view from the top was amazing. Other hikers had drones out flying. One the one hand, I agree with my bride that they are very loud and annoying, on the other hand, I really wish I could find that footage, because I bet it is amazing.

#allnaturalorganic

I married some good looking genes

Well, that's enough for one day. I'll add more detail later, and do a post about each location we like.

Fjord is on my back

We're in Hawaii!

2020-10-31T15:37:00.000-09:00

I believe the last time I posted on my blog was years ago, so once again, there is too much to catch up on. I got married to my wonderful wife, McKenzie in 2017.

We have had so many amazing adventures, I hope I have tom to go back and cover them all. The best adventure thus far has been the birth of our amazing son, Finnegan, in 2019. He's already over a year old! He is walking and babbling and making us smile every moment we get to spend with him.

Our world has been turned upside down, but it's nice to have what was always missing in my life. In other news: I quit my job as a car salesman, it had been a good 8-9 years of my life, but I wanted more time with my new family. I had been doing a bit of online schooling, but we realized that I would never graduate unless I just went in person, kicked it in gear, and stopped wasting time. So I applied to BYU-Idaho, BYU-Provo, and BYU-Hawaii. I was already going to Idaho online, so getting in there was pretty much a given. I was not so lucky with Provo, and so I assumed Hawaii would be out. We started shopping for apartments in Idaho while we waited for an answer from Hawaii. And wait we did, weeks after we were supposed to get an answer I finally called them to find out what was going on. Apparently, they were just reviewing my case when I called. See, typically the cutoff for attending there is 29 years-old, and I was 31. Luckily (divine intervention again in my life) I was able to talk to them and after a brief interview, I was told I would have an answer within 3 days. The morning came, and I opened my email. Accepted! Hawaii here we come.

It has been amazing! We loaded all that we thought we might need into four sturdy Rubbermaid totes and moved to the islands. We now live on campus at BYU-Hawaii and we couldn't be happier. We feel so blessed to be here.

I remember when we first moved in how much I loved snorkeling. It is like a different world. You may think you see a lot through the crystal clear waters, but as soon as you put on a mask and stick your face in the water you really see how much life you are swimming with. The feeling of awe hasn't really worn off either. I love to be in the water whenever I can.

I got scuba certified in my first semester but sadly haven't gone diving since getting my PADI card. I hope to go soon. McKenzie has been certified for years, but due to an eye injury, she had to wait before getting new contacts that will enable her to use a dive mask.

We have both tried to take up surfing. I was frustrated at first because I would go and be horrible at it. My chest would ache, and my skin would be rubbed raw. Due to this lack of success, I only went once every six weeks or so. Finally, Kenzie encouraged me to step up my game. I now go three times a week before work, and it is paying off. I no longer get sore from surfing, and I can pretty reliable stand up and catch three waves per half-hour session.

Finn loves the sand, he makes friends everywhere we go, and total strangers keep walking up to us on the street to tell us how cute he is or to get a picture with him. You'd think that seeing turtles, whales, dolphins, and pristine beaches would be the highlight of my life, but in reality, it is being able to raise such a fun wonderful son with my wife.

Yes, we see Sea Turtles quite regularly; it's so fun to be paddle boarding above them through a transparent bay. We have seen humpback whales a few times now. First, we hiked up a lighthouse trail with such a great view that we could actually see three of the other Hawaiian islands. We saw small pods of two or three whales swimming along through the channel. It was hard to get a good view without binoculars, but it was still cool to see.

Next, we went on a whale watching tour aboard a 50-foot catamaran. Sadly they never put the sails up, but I may be getting converted to the multihull way of life.

Then when we were enjoying a stroll by our favorite bay we saw a few whales jumping not too far offshore. They flipped and splashed, and waves their flukes in the air. We tried to follow them by car and on foot. By the end of our excursion, we had counted 41 breaches where the whales jumped and splashed. That was a magical day.

A Week in Escalante on My Own

2016-02-23T14:00:00.003-10:00

Again it has been a long time since I have posted anything on my blog. A lot has happened, and I have had quite a few adventures which I feel should have been put up here. But alas, I am lazy.

After spending a summer in Texas selling alarms door to door, I had a month off to basically be a bum. I was running low on funds, but I had all the time in the world. I spent more than a couple nights camping. Part of my camping was because I missed the fresh air and the wilderness of Utah. Part of my camping was because I had nowhere else to go. I did end up crashing on a friend's couch for a week or so while I was waiting to go on the company cruise that we had won. More on that later.
I love my Subaru. It is the perfect car for me. My Subaru has allowed me to travel cross country so many times. It has never let me down, and it has proven to be quite a comfortable porta-bedroom. With the seats folded down, and an air mattress rolled out, I can sleep quite comfortably. On most road trips I push my body too far and stay awake on the road as long as possible. I can't afford hotel room every time I get drowsy. Whenever I would finally pull over to sleep, I used to have to recline the seat as far as possible and scrape together 45 minutes of shut eye before hitting the road again. In my Subaru Outback though, I can easily sleep 6-7 hours and get back going as if I had planned to spend the night in such a fashion. It's not quite an RV, but for the amount of "softroading" I do, and the gas mileage I need to travel as far as I do, it is perfection.

After spending a few days camping out at my favorite spot in the mountains near Tooele, I decided to saddle up and head off on adventure. I would liked to have had some friends along, but I didn't want to go through the hassle of making sure I had the right mixture of personalities, and everyone coming along had the right gear. I've been gradually hording outdoorsy gear for a few years, and knew I could pick up and go wherever whenever because after all, all of my worldly possessions were in the back of my car.
I had been backpacking with a wilderness group a couple years ago. They take maladjusted youth out into the wild to allow the healing effects of nature to take place. Being out away from technology, having time to think, having a goal in mind, and a simplified almost primitive form of living can work wonders on the soul.
After spending 8 days backpacking in Southern Utah I learned that the job was not for me, but the location was too breathtaking not to revisit. My plan was to take 5-8 days and go solo backpacking in Escalante, Utah. I hoped that my memory of the location would not get me lost. The multiple slot canyons and vastness of the terrain still leave me in awe to this day.

Pictured above is the gear I packed for my trek.

50 Liter Internal frame backpack (probably should have used my 65)

10 degree sleeping bag

Hard Shell from my Columbia 3-in-1 coat

Handheld GPS (invaluable for the lazy orienteer)

Inflatable camp mat

cook kit

(2) 1 liter nalgene bottles

(1) 3 liter water bladder (in the backpack)

3 dry bags of various sizes to contain food, clothing, and electronics

30' of webbing

hammock

4 caribiners

(1) 10x12 Tarp

(2) trekking poles

(1) knock off GoPro

my Nikon DSLR and 2 lenses

Wool hat my mom knitted for me

Goretex waterproof mid ankle hiking boots

stove with fuel

Bear Grylls Gerber pocket knife

I also had some toiletries in the backpack, tent stakes, some basic first aid equipment, and a hundred feet of cordage.

I'm sure I forgot some items, but all in all, it was quite heavy when loaded up. Some of the stuff I used just so that I wouldn't have felt dumb for bringing it along. I wasn't going up Everest or anything, but any hike of respectable length makes to wonder how many items you could do without. On my particular trip, I learned that I could have done without the freeze dried food variety that I brought.

I loaded up my gear; checked and double checked that I had all with me that I would need. I made sure that my memory cards had plenty of room left on them, and my camera batteries were full. I left mid afternoon for the 5 hour drive south from Provo, UT.

I think I told enough people where I was going that they would be able to send a search party if I didn't reappear within a week. It was fun to be off on an excursion, but a little bit daunting to be doing it alone. I knew that I wasn't as familiar with the area as I should have been, and that there was no way of getting any cell reception once I entered the canyons.

After navigating my way to the Town of Escalante, I learned that I would actually have to backtrack about 5 miles to find a service highway, and then drive about 30 miles down that to reach the trail head I was aiming for. Bombing down the dark dusty trail at nightfall was amazing. I blasted my music and rolled down the window. The cool October air keeping me awake. It had been raining for the past few days which made the road very muddy, and 2 or 3 times I came across a puddle that was over 100 feet long, and splashing up against my bumper. I am admittedly over-confident in the Subaru All-Wheel drive system, and perhaps I should not be so foolhardy when I'm miles from any help, and going into the back country at a time of year that almost guarantees I won't see another soul, but oh well. I made it through every mini-lake just fine, and kept on driving. It was only after the road got especially gnarly that I realized that I had gone past the trail head. The road was not marked, and there was nothing to make it look like an official spot to start a hike, so I had blown right past it.

As I was driving about 45 MPH down this dark road, I felt a little uneasy every time I saw a patch of dirt that showed where a river had crossed only hours before. The dry desert floor mixed with recent rainfall is the perfect recipe for quicksand. I knew that if I happened to get buried up to my axles, that there would be no way out until a bigger truck came along. Stuck in such a predicament would make me all that much more vulnerable to a flash flood. They come without warning, and can still wash your car away down a torrent of muddy water though the rain fell miles away. So, driving too fast as I was, I rounded a bend, and suddenly came upon a spot of the road that had been washed out. Not just that I couldn't see where the road was meant to go, but a culvert had collapsed, and 3/4 of the roadway suddenly dropped 6' down off to my right. I was able to skid to a halt just before my tires went into the ravine, but it was way too close for comfort. I surveyed my options and decided to cut up into the brush to the left of the chasm. My tires spun a little bit, protesting as I pushed the wagon up into dryer pastures. I was only a couple hundred feet beyond the obstacle when I realized I had gone too far. Creeping back past the gaping, car-swallowing, sink hole was more daunting on the return trip.

In a few moments I had driven myself back to the proper fork in the road and parked. I was still not very sure I was at the right trail head. I didn't want to get my car ticketed while I was away. I had dreams of crawling my way out of the wilderness, beaten and bruised, only to find that my car had been towed away and I would be left stranded.

I decided that rather than start out my trek in the dead of night, I would sleep and pick my trail at first light; a good thing too, because it wasn't long after I unrolled my sleeping bag that great drops of water came down pelting the roof of my car. It was so loud that I occasionally got up to check that it wasn't hail hitting the sheet metal. I slept uneasily, again dreaming of my car getting washed away in a flash flood. (I later found out that 20 people had died in similar conditions only a month prior) Click here for story.

First light ended up being about noon by the time I finally woke up, ate the remaining hot dog in my snack stash, and clicked lock on my car. I left a note on the dash with a phone number and an expected return date. Hopefully no one would loot my car while I was away. Finding a trail proved to be more difficult. I zigged and zagged across the scrubby desert terrain looking for any semblance of a path. My backpack felt heavy, my legs were not yet used to balancing the extra 40-50 pounds on my frame. I was grateful to have my trekking poles along. They helped me scramble up smooth rocky surfaces, and helped me stay at a decent marching pace as I crossed the dusty landscape Those poles probably saved my life more than a few times on this trip. At length I came across an old barbed wire fence that served to keep livestock from tumbling into the slot canyons and dying. I figured that I should be on the opposite side of this fence since my goal was to get into the canyons. After following the fence, I finally started to notice a crack open up in the earth. As I hiked, the crack became a trench, then a ravine. I lowered my backpack gently down over the edge of a cliff, using the webbing to get it as low as possible. After I carefully released my grip, however, the backpack still took a tumble and scooped up some unwanted soil onto my camera. I hopped down after my pack, dusted it off, and continued trekking.

Not long after dropping into the canyon, things began to be familiar. The landscape had changed a little bit due to the weather, and the passage of time. The path wasn't as worn as the last time I had hiked Coyote Gulch (the name of the trail).

That little squiggly line to the left of the blue dot is Coyote Gulch. With all the twists and turns it ends up being about 12-14 miles from the trail head.

It is hard to capture in a photo, or describe in writing how truly amazing the canyons in southern Utah are. It' almost a spiritual experience to be back in the country, away from other people. Just your wits and your preparation. In hindsight, I do wish I had someone to share the adventure with, but there's always next time.

On the first day I found out how scary it can be to sink into quicksand. Early on in the trip I was trying to keep my boots dry, and my pants clean. I wanted to be comfortable and not deal with damp, gravelly socks. The effort only lasted the first day because after a while you realize that you are constantly crossing over the river, and treading on shifting sand. One time the river bed seemed just as solid as any other spot; but upon trying to check for quicksand, I suddenly sank up to my knees. I was in a hurry to get out of it, but the whole ground gave way beneath me like I had gone from standing on gravel to standing on jello pudding. It was a very real possibility that I could get sunk, and stuck, well out of ear shot of any other human being. It would be one way to die, but as for me, I'm glad I'm still here.

The first night I slept in my hammock, high and dry. I stretched the tarp over my minuscule campsite to protect against the rain. I stopped all the time to take pictures, and am only now realizing that I haven't posted that many of them. Hammock camping in October...is cold. Be warned. I did not sleep at all the first night because the blood kept draining from my arms and legs and the wind swept away and heat from beneath me. If the ground hadn't been littered in thorns and mule deer bones, I would have slept on the ground.

My dinner was made by scooping up some river water, boiling it to kill any bugs, and to get it up to cooking temperature, and then dumping my freeze-dried mix into the pot. It was sandy, and not good...at all. I like the idea of freeze dried food. For the most part it tastes good, and is nutritious. The benefit is that it doesn't take up much space, and is fairly light. The negative is that it kinda makes you fart a lot, and may or may not turn your poop odd colors....is what I read... in a book... not first hand knowledge by any means. REI was having a sale on this type of food. It was only after I had opened the box and loaded all 18 meals into my pack that I realized that it was all 100% Vegan. That's great for you Vegans out there, but it did not do well for my required calorie or protein intake. One meal was a measly 180 calories, and they tasted nasty.

So if anyone wants 12 packets of "beefish stew", let me know. I would have been much better served by carrying extra clif bars. That, and oatmeal was my main diet.

By the second day I was getting into the swing of things. I recognized all the places I had passed by before. Constantly amazed by the scale and magnitude of what I was seeing.

Only ended up using the coat and the hammock once.

If you have never experienced Zion national Park, or Moab, or Escalante, or Arches...you need to reevaluate what you're doing with your life.

The contrast between the massive red cliffs, and the lush greenery along the river was stark. Around the winding bends of the sandstone canyon I saw arches carved away by years of wind and water.

I met my first people on my second day in. This gave me a boost of morale. Since I passed them as the were coming out, I knew that I could follow their footprints to see where solid ground was. Much of my first day was spent checking and rechecking that I wouldn't sink into quicksand. I traveled much faster as I got to know the pattern of that one guys crocs better. For the temperature, I was glad I wore boots, but for the moisture comfort level, I would recommend chacos, or similar outdoorsy sandals.

I walked far too late past dinner time before pitching camp. Before I knew it I was scrambling through the reeds trying not to fall into the river and desperately straining against the light of my headlamp to see the faintest trace of the footprints which had led me so well before. After an hour of so of struggling against the falling temperature and the failing light, I finally found a flat, dry spot near the trail and began the slow process of setting up camp. This time I used my tarp ad an impromptu tent, and cooked my dinner on a flat rock. Fires weren't allowed at this part of the trail, so I had to curl up in my cold sleeping bag with no other form of heat besides my damp, tired body.

The morning revealed that I was only 30 feet or so from one of the more technically difficult descents. I'm so glad I didn't try it at nighttime. My water supply was continuously being refilled from the river. Although my iodine tablets would kill any germs in the water, they did nothing for the red sand that gritted my teeth long after I was done drinking.

The third day found me passing by more waterfalls and hikers. The temperatures seemed to be up in the 70's and there were enough groups that I no longer felt alone. I no longer felt that I was on this crazy backpacking trip that could kill me, but rather on an extended campout that anyone could do.

One of the difficulties I ran into on the trail was that there was no trail; or rather, there were multiple options, and each one would eventually get me down the canyon. Usually there was a high road and a low road. Sometimes one would lead me into quicksand, and the other would lead me through thick vegetation. I don't even want to think about how many spiders hitchhiked in my hair during these passages.

After taking three days to reach the confluence with the Escalante river, I took a couple pictures. Paused to breathe, and then did an about face and headed back towards civilization.

On the trip down I averaged 3-4 miles per day. I t doesn't sound like much, but with the slow going of the river crossings, and the frequent photo stops, it was still busy days. Since I made it part of the way back on the third day, I decided to take a rest, and set up camp early. By about 3:30 I was set up. I had a massive ledge over me for protection, soft sand beneath my feet for comfort, and the one outhouse in the canyon on the opposite side of the river...for convenience.

This was the one spot that I actually lit a fire. It is amazing the psychological effect of a small fire in the wilderness. Something primitive is awakened, letting you know that this is home, and this is safe.

Free from the burden of my pack, and a pressing schedule, I decided to go for a jaunt with nothing but my camera. Since my boots were drying out, and I had no inclination to put my socks back on, I took off across the river barefoot.

My feet were not as tough as they used to be, but after some time I grew accustomed to avoiding cactus. I realized that this place was pure. There was no garbage, not broken glass to be worried about. A pristine landscape that had been successfully preserved, and posed not threat to me talking my little barefoot walkabout.

The red rocks had absorbed amazing amounts of heat from the day's sunshine. The darker rocks were too hot to touch.

After gorging myself on overly sweetened oatmeal, I turned in, and watched the sky fade from perfect clear blue, to deep purple. The moon rose early, and I could see the faint shapes of bats flying around catching their evening meal.

The next days were exhausting. Since I had already seen most of the sights on the way down the river, I really didn't have much need to haul out my camera heading back upstream. I powered through 5 miles on the 4th day without much to make note of. The final day is when I turned on my GPS and started keeping track of the distance between myself and my car. I realized that at the pace I was going, I could make it back in one push...if I made it 9 miles that day. With my backpack no lighter, but my body feeling a little more rejuvenated, I decided to go for it.

After many sweaty hours of long strides, and sore hips, I finally emerged from the canyon. The only problem was that I was still 2 miles from the car, and I had not emerged at the same spot I had dropped in at. The rocks were red instead of the sandy yellow they had been before. I followed a dried up tributary, hoping it would zig-zag me back to my car, but it only took me further away. At least I had a footprint of another person every now and then to guide me; to let me know that I was going the right way....to his car....if he knew where he was going.

After a while, I decided to leave the relative security of the small ravine, and set out overland. Across the flat desert. Following the line my GPS said would lead me to my car. As the crow flies is so much easier, if you're a crow. I began to feel fatigued, my snack food supply was depleted, and my water was getting low. I was in no real danger of dehydration...as long as I got to my car that night. The sun started dropping behind the distant mountains, and I continued to drag my way through the soft sand.

Every little hill was covered with small holes. I now assume they were for jack rabbits, but at the time my mind was certain that each one of these thousands of dens was that of a rattlesnake. I may come across as somewhat of a worry-wart in this entry, and that may be, but I assure you that something changes in your mind when you find yourself alone, in the literal middle of nowhere, with no way of letting anyone know where you are. It took about 2 and a half hours to finally see areas I recognized. It felt like eternity. By the time I saw the barbed wire fence, I was just done. I loved the hike, I probably shouldn't have pushed myself as far as I did on the last day, but after all that I had seen and done, I was ready to just sit down, and have my car do the work.

This was one of the most beautiful sights I saw that week.

The drive back in to town took so much longer than I thought it would, but once their, I realized that I didn't have it in me to drive all the way back to Provo. I stopped at an amazing burger joint, ordered their biggest meal, and devoured every ounce of that grease laden bacon burger in no time flat. I had deluded myself into thinking that a week without soda would make it that much easier to stay on a healthy beverage trend once I rejoined society. The fist thing I ordered: Extra Large Mountain Dew.

I checked into a modest motel across from the burger shop. The parking lot was packed full of muddy Tacomas, Subarus, and Frontiers. Some were there to hike, others to bike, and some were just passing through. The room was equipped with cloths specifically for washing off mud, which was invaluable. I clogged the shower washing mud out of my hair, cleaned it out, and then showered some more. My shirt smelled like 5 days of sweat and mud. I found it necessary to do some laundry in the sink with the bar of soap provided before turning in for the night. It is amazing how nice a cheap motel bed feels after sleeping a week on the ground atop a constantly deflating camp mat.

No plans, no expectations, no problems.

2015-04-14T11:01:00.001-09:00

On Thursday I got out of class and had no work. It was a bright sunny day, and I didn't want to sit at home idle all day. I decided to go for a drive. I pointed my car south and kept going. After about 3 hours I decided I should have a plan or a goal, so I plugged Zion National Park into my phone because it's beautiful, in the neighborhood, and I hadn't been there since I was a kid. As I was passing through Hurricane, UT I noticed a small helicopter parked next to a building and a billboard talking about the Zion Helicopter Tour. "That would be fun to do someday" I thought to myself, but I drove by..."Why not today?" I continued in my mind. After a quick google of the company I found that the rates started at $45-65...I'd do that ALL DAY. So I flipped around and headed back. Right as I got inside to ask the girl behind the counter about the rates I noticed two ment getting in the chopper and I heard the engines start to spool up. The girl said I could go along with them, but it was the 70 mile/45 miute tour...and about $260......since I was already making them wait, and I had already flipped my car around, and it was on my bucket list.. I paid the money, grabbed my camera and hopped in. It was right about the time I was clicking my seat belt that I remembered that I'm scared of heights.

We gained altitude and I got used to the feeling of being in such a small light craft. I had been in a small plane where you usually have only 2 axis of craziness to worry about, but since this could hover and pitch in any direction, we would occasionally get caught by a gust and suddenly rotate a few degrees tot he left or the right. It wasn't scary at all actually, much less than a roller coaster..I hate those things.

We zoomed over canyons, waved to people climbing the neary pinnacles, and learned little tid bits of history as we flew. I think was worth it. The pilot told me about a 60 mile dirt road that went from a nearby highway, across the arizona desert, to the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Since I wantd to avoid the tourist crowd that was sure to be mobbing Zion, I decided to try out this little known path to the Toroweap overlook. A small camping area looking 3,000 feet down straight in the Grand Canyon. I had driven by as a kid, but never been to the canyon...and I liked the idea of seeing it from such a remote place that I was unlikely to encounter another human being to encroach on my spontaneous freedom.

After a few dead ends, I found the right road, and began bombing across the desert at 50-70MPH slowing only for curves that caused my tires to break loose, and threatened to drop me in a ditch. Also I had to stop for cows..they liked hanging out in the middle of the road.

As night fell, and I got further and further from civilization and any hint of cell phone reception, I couldn't help but think about how ludicrously unprepared I was in case of an emergency. I was alone, no one knew where I was, I had no phone, I had packed no water or food. (Luckily I'm always prepared to go unprepared, I had a can of beans in the back of my car, and a water bottle that had rolled under my passenger seat.)

At the end of the road I ran into a park ranger and apparently I had gotten there JUST after closing time. I still had to pay, but he let me go through. I passed the parking area for normal cars and continued on with my subaru over the "4X4/high ground clearance vehicles only" portion. I only got hung up on one rock, but eventually made it the last 6 miles down the rugged trail and into my campsite. There wasn't a soul to be seen or heard. The ambient light from the stars was barely enoguh to register on my camera, and the only sound that could be heard was the wind gently whistling through the canyon below.

I folded down my back seats, inflated my air matress, unrolled my sleeping bag, enjoyed the aforementioned can of beans, and settled in for a night of weird dreams. I had thought I was right on the edge of a cliff, so I had several almost nightmares that my car was slipping into the void. I had planned to wake up to see the dawn, and then head back for work. Unfortunately there was no sun at 4:30 AM..5:30,6:30....it wasn't until a little after 7:00 that the sky begain to brighten.

I hiked the north rim of the canyon and marvelled at how my day had turned out. I really had no intention of any kind of crazy adventure, but merely because I had nothing else going on I found myself 5 hours from home in a remote loacation, miles from another human, witnessing one of the most beautiful scenes I had yet encountered. AND DID I MENTION THAT I FLEW IN A FREAKING HELICOPTER!

new boat

2014-09-16T05:58:00.001-09:00

To sum up, I have moved back to Wisconsin. Being in the state adjacent to the only of the Great Lakes all the way within the borders of the U.S. of A means that I can't survive for long without a boat. The reason for my relocation was to start up my own little boat rental operation on the beach in Sheboygan. I spent all of my money procuring licenses, insurance, kayaks, a sail boat, a jet ski, a tent, a table, and all that jazz. Things were looking up. I was to spend my summer living on the beach, growing out my facial hair, and perfecting my tan. I got started as soon as I could, which ended up being my downfall. For those of you not familiar with Wisconsin in May, it's much like everywhere else...in March. We have our good years and our bad years. This turned out to be a little chilly. I had a hard time getting people to go out on "the big lake" while I was huddled up under my awning in a parka. Some days were sunny and lovely, others were just too plain cold to sit out there. I enjoyed being a beach bum though. I had hours on end to sit and read books. I was able to chill shirtless at work, and randomly do push-ups whenever I wanted. One of the downsides was that I was usually alone, and whenever I had to run to the bathroom I left all of my gear out in the open. The Sheboygan beachfront is pretty harmless though.
After about two months, and only five rentals, I was negative enough in my account to realize it was best to put the horse out of its misery.
I started work again selling cars and was able to dig out of that financial hole for the most part, and as I always do, I began perusing Craigslist in search of a new boat. I am always looking for something that can convey me to far off horizons in relative comfort and safety. There are any number of small trailer/sailors that would be nice to haul to remote lakes and have fun with for a day or so, but I want an ocean crosser. Every so often I find a deal that's too good to be true. Growing up I often would find ads in the newspaper for a Free Boat. What I didn't understand at the time was that if a boat is literally being given away, there probably isn't much it's good for other than killing a spot of grass on your lawn.
As I was searching, I came across an ad for a boat I had never heard of before, a Glander Cay. It was $1,700 (which is about what I paid for my last boat) and it had a lot of things included that I had to add to the Bristol 24. Things like sails, a mast already stepped, proof that it floated, a mooring, and engine, proper rigging. In fact, this one seemed to be built every bit as solidly as my Bristol. In the pictures I could see that it had a full keel, and a rudder hung on the transom. This is an advantage over my last boat because it meant that I would be able to easily inspect, repair, or replace the rudder if damaged. Also it means that there are no holes running through the hull that could leak. The outboard motor looked nice (and proved invaluable later). I kept an eye on the ad. I couldn't see much from the pictures of the interior, but I could only assume it was in rough shape.
The value seemed too good to be true, and so I waited. In a couple weeks the price dropped from $1,700 to $700. That was it, I had to have it. There was no way I couldn't come out ahead. I mean, I would have to pay for insurance, and storage, and inevitable repairs, but I was starting out way ahead of my last vessel. I called the guy and set up a time to go see it. He said I was first in line, but it was too dang hot to show the boat, so I'd have to wait for the next week. I get impatient once I've got it in my head to do something, but in this situation it turned out to be a good thing that I had to wait. In the week I waited, the price dropped from $700 to $500. Yes I was suspicious, I'm not an idiot, and I know if a boat that looks like it should be $3,000 is being sold for $500 it's probably in the process of sinking.
I drove down to the marina and met a nice man with a ponytail named Jeff. He had the Glander pulled up to the boat ramp. She looked great...from about 50 feet away. There was a gleaming bright varnished bow sprit, and a wooden mast ladder running up the shrouds (she looked like a pirate ship to me). As I got closer, I noticed that the paint job had a certain 'unprofessional' appearance to it. The white base coat was showing through the dark green contrasting layer. That would need to be addressed. The main hatch was a curved piece of transparent lexan with wooden braces. Cool.
As I went below I saw where the real grunt work was required. You see, some boats are completely finished from the factory, others are left "open to interpretation" by the manufacturer. Glander was a father and son boat building company in Florida building boats that would do well around the Florida Keys and the Bahamas. It has a very shallow draft (doesn't stick down too far in the water) but is very heavy so it's stable, won't tip over, and can take a beating. This boat had been left with an unfinished interior. Jeff, the second owner, had done a few things here and there to get it to his liking, but had never really finished it. The original square windows had been replaced with round opening ports. They looked great from the outside, but on the inside it was a mishmash of plywood and planks. There was no head (toilet) and the stove (which was on a gimbal so that soup doesn't spill as you're pounding over waves) was mounted right over where a seat or berth (bed) should be. The one nice thing is that all the cushions were there, and there was plenty of storage. The wiring hadn't been run yet, and there was no modern conveniences on board. My Bristol really had nothing wired either, so it seemed with both boats I was working with what they would have in the 1800's. Hull, rudder, sails. I loved it.
After an hour sea trial I closed the deal. To be honest it was listed for $499, and Jeff gave me back a dollar for good luck. He told me that he had had the boat since 1998 and had sailed it up from the Florida keys, through the St. Lawrence seaway, and down to Milwaukee. This was just the kind of news I wanted to hear to know that this boat had some serious cruising chops to back up her awkward and bulky appearance.
She's about 2 feet longer in the hull than my Bristol, and almost 2 feet wider. She's another 1,000 pounds heavier, and is 6" shallower in the draft. I think she'll be just the thing to finally take me over to England. Click here to learn more and help out.
I've already taken her on some adventures and cruises. More on that later.

Vacation Time

2014-09-05T13:59:00.000-09:00

My boat is back in the water and ready for action. I have gone from having a mooring in Milwaukee to a mooring in Oconto. It is a little over an hour north of me, but it's still close enough that I can get out for a good sail if I have the day off.
I was planning on selling the boat because...well, that's what I do. Posting it online was all too easy. Adding pictures to the ebay listing, or the ad on craigslist made me nitpick and see all of the imperfections that I realized would make her difficult to sell. One day I decided to head up and make sure nothing had been damaged over the winter months. I hadn't been on my boat since October, and here I was well into June before making my first visit. As soon as I saw my Glander Cay, I began to have reservations about selling her. Instantly upon stepping aboard I realized that I didn't want anyone else to have her. I had gotten such a good deal on a boat that not many would appreciate, and up to that point in the year, all I could think of was dollar signs. Once I saw the potential again first hand, I pretty much decided that I'd hang onto her until I was offered six times what I paid for her, or until she was not longer fit to sail. A good solid hull that is as well traveled as this one is not usually cheap. Anyway.
The mooring was fairly inexpensive, and it meant that I could get out on the Bay much quicker because I wouldn't have to motor down the river all the way from Hi-Seas Marina. It also meant that I had to find a way to get out to my boat without a dock. Previously it had been warm, and I was accustomed to placing my clothes in a drybag, and swimming out to my boat. The first time I had done this was the night I tied her to the new mooring. I had motored the mile or so from the marina to the mooring, tied off, and tidied up a bit. To get to shore I swam, fought through the reeds and lily pads, then changed back into my clothes in a nearby restroom. The bright green drybag I had picked up with my Cabela's gift card did wonderfully. My clothes were still bone dry. I began my hike back in the rain down the dark county road. I made it most of the way there before getting picked up by a kind man in a Ford Ranger. The interior of his truck suggested that he was a chain smoker. He explained to me that he was just doing his second good deed for the day.
Fast forward to now. I found out that I get a week's paid vacation because I have been at my current job for over a year. Time off being like money in my pocket burning to be used up, I took the first available week in September to do a cruise. I wanted to take advantage of what little "warm" weather we have left. Wisconsin has been insufferably cold and wet this summer, and I had a feeling that sailing in October again would not be nearly as pleasant as last year.
The plan is to leave on Monday, sail up through the Green Bay, and stop at islands along the way. Chamber's island is about 6 hours away from Oconto. Washington Island is another 6 north of that. After sleeping on one of these little beauties, I will get to go up and explore Rock Island, St. Martins Island, Plum Island, Poverty Island, and many others. The area is known as Death's Door, or Porte Des Morts by the French. After studying the cruising charts I can begin to see why there are over 250 shipwrecks in such a small area. The Niagara Escarpment (the rock the giant falls are carved out of) extends past the tip of the peninsula and occasionally juts up into an island. There are multitudes of rocky shoals near the islands. The depth quickly goes from 100' to 3' in some areas. I'm sure I'll be glad to have such a shallow draft boat designed for island hopping.

Strictly Sail

2014-02-04T11:54:00.000-10:00

Recently in Chicago they had a boat show entirely devoted to sailboats. I had to go.
Luckily for myself I had a spare day off of work saved up for just such an occasion. One thing that I don't like about Chicago is that it takes about $5 in tolls to get there. After navigating the horrendous downtown traffic, parking next to several exotic cars, and using a subway restaurant purely for the restroom, I was on my way to the boat show. The windy city certainly earned its title that day as wind chills threatened to freeze my ears and nose off. The idea that I was going to soon see so many new sailboats was more than enough to get me to walk briskly over to the Navy Pier.
I had never been to the Pier before, and I highly recommend it. I'm not sure who's idea it was to put suck light things like 50 foot sailboats on the second floor while reserving the ground level for heavy artifacts like stained glass windows, but I digress. As soon as I had my bright paper bracelet on my wrist I was off with my trusty DSLR camera to tour the sloops and take as many pictures as I could. All around there were offerings from Catalina, Jeanneau, Benetau, Hunter, and many more. Sizes ranged from tiny kayaks and inflatable dinghies on up to a Beneteau Sense 50. I was in heaven.
Although I am a fan of old classic looking boats with long, full keels, I couldn't help but be awestruck at the beautiful dual helms, plumb bows, and beamy sterns of these modern racer cruisers. It has always amazed me how much space can be found in a 30 by 10 space. I am not quite sure if I can pick a favorite boat yet. They each had their own charm. The Blue Jacket 40 certainly seemed to be a favorite of the cruising community with its rich wood and chrome interior. The Com Pac yachts had interesting choices in the sub-30 foot category. One yacht of particular interest was the chubby Com Pac 23 Motor sailor. With a stout pilot house one could choose either to steer with the tiller at the stern, or the shiny helm wheel tucked safely below.
Several vendors were set up pedaling their inflatable life jackets, propane powered outboards, carbon fiber winches and the like. I did get to try my hand at grinding away on a large Harken pedestal winch. I had the second fastest time [to do 20 revolutions] of the day.
Some boats sacrificed all of the usable space in order to achieve greater speed. A 27 foot boat that could hardly sleep two seems a bit of a waste to me, but I'm sure the racers out there can't understand how a cruiser can make due with such a heavy hull and such small sails. I guess everyone has their own taste, and there's a craft for each. As far as racers go, the most stunning boat of the day had to be the old Shields classone-design sloop. A full keel racing boat with long over hangs and a very fine transom had all the telltale signs of boat plans drawn in a bygone era. Favoring minimal wetted surface area over having a longer waterline was the norm back in the day. Although it was one of those longer boats that are good for no more than racing and daysailing, I would take one in a heartbeat.
Pictures to follow.

Cruising for the first time

2014-01-16T14:31:00.001-10:00

Well, this is what she looks like on paper.

I got the opportunity to take the new boat out sailing a few times with family members, but it was only a couple of little day sailing outings. What I really wanted to do was put some miles under her keel and travel. I knew I'd have to wait a while, but as I've said before, I'm impatient.
The Glander Cay was out on a mooring in the South Shore Yacht Club in Milwaukee. A mooring is nice because it means I'm less likely to hit another boat in my marina maneuvers. It's not quite as convenient as a dock because I can't just walk out to the boat, I have to row out. In one of my less intelligent decisions, I sold my 8' rowing dinghy (since I had no immediate use for it) and so now I had to resort to a small inflatable raft to paddle out to my new boat. It's not so much the physical effort I dislike, but it's the fact that I know I look like a landlubber fool cranking his $15 Walmart blow up boat out to his craigslist find sailboat. Appearances aside, I was glad I wasn't swimming. Lake Michigan is never warm, but as you get later and later in the year, hypothermia becomes more and more of a commonplace term.
One day of no particular significance I decided to go sailing after work. Work for me gets over at 8:00 at night. I worked about 45 minutes away from the yacht club. Combining the travel time and the time it took to blow up the raft, and paddle out to the Glander, and get her ready meant that I wasn't really pulling away from land too much before 10:30 at night. The spartan trimmings of my new boat meant that she was not equipped with adequate navigational lights to venture out past sunset. I had to resort to the portable lights that I had clipped onto my Bristol; it is a crude way of getting by, but a way nonetheless. Not having enough time to stop back at home, or the foresight to bring a spare change of clothes left me sailing solo out of Milwaukee under full cover of night in dress shoes, slacks, and a polo shirt with my name one it. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't reconsider some of my life decisions.
Getting the sails set all by my lonesome was somewhat more difficult than it had been on my Bristol. The Glander had two headsails vs. the one I was accustomed to , and they were both attached at the mid and end point of a six foot long bowsprit. There is no netting to catch me if I slip off the bowsprit, no hand rail to steady myself against, and no one to notice if I fell in. Luckily I have always fancied myself to be a bit of a waterman and I'm not afraid to trust my cozy dry clothes to all the balance that I can muster out of my butt cheeks. I sat balanced precariously over the black water as I clipped each of the old bronze hasps to the forestay, and double checked that I had run the halyards properly. Once the Jib (front sail) was set, I moved back to the deck and set about attaching the staysail (sail behind the jib, but in front of the mast). Once both headsails were good to go I turned on the outboard motor, dropped the mooring lines and eased out of the harbor in relative silence.

This is what she looks like in daylight

Milwaukee has an amazing skyline from the water; its glow can be seen for many miles away. I had been sailing for about three hours when I realized that the wind was really not helping me progress northwards at all. I was trying to get home by the next morning so I could show my family the new boat, and as much as I tried with tacking, it didn't seem that I'd get there any time soon unless I cheated. Around 2:00 in the morning I decided to motor sail. Cranking up the motor and relying on the sails, I was able to make about 6 knots heading in the right direction. On the one hand, I felt bad using the motor, on the other hand, it was nice to know I wasn't going to get stranded and miss a few days of work.

As the hours wore on, I played with the trim of the motor and the tiller to try and get her to track straight on her own, but with the outboard being off center, and the wind blowing, this task proved impossible. I tried taking some pictures with my phone, but was unable until the sun came up. Late into the night I kept myself awake by singing my own karaoke songs as loud as I could, and by reenacting the entire first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I'm not ashamed that I know all the lines by heart, or that my Elizabeth Swann sounds pretty dang convincing.

As the first light of day started to creep over the horizon, the sky turned a brilliant contrast of burnt orange and teal. There wasn't a cloud in sight but for the first time in hours I could make out the coastline. I had sailed much further offshore than I had originally anticipated, and I knew it would take another two hours of just east to west travelling to make it into the port at Sheboygan. No sooner did I start heading for shore than I came within three feet of an ominous buoy protruding from the surface of the water. Based on my knowledge of the area, I think it was a marker for a shipwreck. I would love to dive on a wreck sometime, but I have no interest in creating one of my own. I stayed offshore a bit in case it was marking a reef. Even though the Glander only draws 3' of water, I'd rather not take any risks.

After 13 hours of motoring I made it from Milwaukee to Sheboygan. I found that the city maintains a small courtesy dock in the river for transient boaters such as myself who only need to tie up for a few hours. Seeing as most of the boats were out of the water for the season, I thought it unlikely that I would be taking anyone's spot. My cell phone had died, and since my family had no idea of when or where to expect me, I had to walk home. The two or three miles seemed an eternity. My legs were set in sea mode. I had stood most of the journey to keep from falling asleep, and that combined with the fact that I had been awake for 30 hours meant that I was a cross between a zombie and a drunk ad I trudged home. Standing in the shower on dry land proved to be more difficult than urinating off the side of the boat out on the waves. Land sickness is a funny thing. Help me get across the pond.

Late Night Climb

2012-07-25T10:28:00.003-09:00

The day after seeing Dark Knight Rises at the midnight release I was feeling uber tired at work. After all I didn't get to sleep till 4:00 am. Late in the evening when I was leaving work and planning on sleeping I got a text informing me about $5 rock climbing night starting at 10:00. Of course I was down for that so we all drove down to Momentum Rock Climbing Gym attached to REI in Sandy, UT and were met by a long line out the door. I think it's the biggest indoor gym in Utah, and it seemed that $5 night was a popular tradition among many people. I could glance in the door and see countless towering walls waiting to be scrambled all over.
After a long wait in line and signing a few waiver forms I was given a rather odorous pair of climbing shoes and admitted to the gym. It was even bigger on the inside than I thought, with places for bouldering, top roping, and lead climbing, there was little to be desired. I was using my thin, unpadded harness which still did the job OK; it just made me miss my own rope, harness, and shoes.
The climbing extravaganza went until 2am after which my hands could barely grip any holds. The rocks were getting sweaty, and I was not only sleepy, but physically tired. I think I'll have to go back and attend this monthly event often.

Canoes in Summer

2012-07-20T16:52:00.004-09:00

A lot has happened since my last post. I have finished my first semester at LDS Business College. I have gone camping and hiking numerous times. I tried out with a wilderness therapy company for a week in escalante (which I'll have to post about), and I broke my Subaru, fixed it, broke it again, sold it, and bought a Montero. I can't wait to get my new SUV in tip top shape so i can do some off roading. This will be much more suited to the task with lots of skid plates, locking rear and center differentials, and true 4 wheel drive. I live that it has a massive sun roof, and 7 leather seats. More room for more friends.
On the trip that decided the fate of my Subaru I planned a canoe camping trip. I found a place that rents a trailer with 4 canoes on it for $50, but upon further investigation found it to be too far away. I still got the troops together and made arrangements to go camping with a couple canoes. I waited too long to reserve them, so the only place that had canoes was REI. (If you ever need canoes, don't hesitate to call them, they're really easy to work with). We loaded up all the gear, and drove down early in the morning. I finally had a chance to test out my new Yakima Roof Rack. We put one heavy canoe on my friend's Sentra, an I put the other on my roof rack next to the Diamond Back mountain bike that my younger brother graciously sent to me. The drive up to Pineview Reservoir was decently scenic. My car started to sputter over the mountains and I didn't know why.
Finally after getting turned around a bit we pulled in and set up camp. We had two tents, plenty of other random gear, and I put my hammock up in a tree. There was a lovely sandy beach to launch the canoes from. The wind was a bit of a hassle to paddle against, but the water was the perfect temperature, and the lake was actually a decent size, not some mere mill pond. I practiced portaging the canoes all on my own. I found out that the fiberglass canoes are way heavier than aluminum ones, and the wind has a way of twisting you exactly the way you don't want to go when you have a 16 foot boat over your head.
Some other friends showed up a little later, and we cooked a crazy amount of hot dogs over the fire. I felt proud of myself for starting the fire with nothing more than my flint sparker, some dry tinder, and a napkin....there may have been some WD40 in there somewhere, but no one needs to know. We went down to have another canoeing excursion. the wind died down a little bit, but in general the lake would have been a great place for sailing a small dinghy. I can't wait to get something like that. We paddled across to find a rope swing. I had a feeling that a certain area would have to have one. It just looked rope swingy. Lo and behold the rope swing was there, but it was destroyed and set for a much higher tide than we were then experiencing. We wandered around for a bit then headed back.
On the beach we played a bit of Frisbee, tag, and then just sat and talked. It was good to be in the college friend campout on the beach. It felt even better to have been the one that planned it. We all turned in for the night and I noticed that a hammock is a great invention for sleeping in. Although it was 96 degrees during the day, it got quite chilly during the night time. I was glad to have brought my sleeping bag, but I did notice that the hammock seemed to drain all the blood away from my feet making them very cold throughout the night. We all survived and are planning on going again sometime soon. I'll be sure to post in a better fashion in the future. It's good to be back.

Climbing

2012-02-29T09:49:00.005-10:00

I always tend to have expensive hobbies. I bought myself all the gear I need for rock climbing. I've loved rock climbing for a long time, but I was too cheap to buy any of the equipment, so I was limited to bouldering or going to rock climbing gyms. Gyms can get expensive, but really help to perfect your technique, and build the strength you need to overcome certain obstacles.
At REI I bought a harness, belay device, chalk bag and caribiner for $100. Then I picked up a 10.2mm Dry-Rope (60 meters long) for about $140 That's roughly $120 more than I paid for the ghetto cheap rope from the hardware store, but I trust it a lot more. All in all the gear adds about ten pounds to my pack. I tested out the gear for the first time in Mill Creek Canyon. I've hiked this area twice now, and on my second hike I noticed that there were some anchor points placed at the top of a 70 foot cliff. It was scary to climb out there and balance myself precariously above a long fall to a painful death. I ran the rope through the anchor points and clipped into my harness. I really hoped that I had done everything right, and that the person who placed these anchors knew what he was doing.
As I stood there with one hand on the rock, and one hand on the rope, I knew that once I let go I would have to trust my life to this contraption around my waist. Every bit of my instinct was telling me not to do it, but I had to conquer my fear of heights sooner or later. I let go and gradually let the rope slip through my fingers. The friction created by the rope as it snaked through the belay device made it quite easy for me to control my descent; but I was wearing leather gloves just in case... rope burn is no joke. About halfway down I was suspended below an overhang and thus could not keep my feet planted on the wall. It was at this precise moment of dangling that the chains I was anchored to decided to shift ever so slightly. The anchors were still as solid as the rock the were drilled into, but my weight shifted the chain about an inch. That small movement, and the resulting pebbles that fell down caused me to have a small mid-air panic attack. I rappelled much more quickly at that point and was very grateful the moment I touched down safely. So far so good, now I had to do it again with a camera!
Life is no fun unless you can share it with others; and if there's no one with you, you at least have to take some pictures to preserve the memory. The second rappel wasn't as scary, but it is still nerve racking letting go to the one solid hold you have and trusting that all the man-made stuff will keep its end of the deal.

A couple weeks later I did end up getting a membership at the local bouldering gym The Front. It set me back about $80 for a month. It would have been cheaper if I was staying in the area for longer, but I figure I can climb out in the real world once it warms up a bit. I was told by the staff at the gym that I should check out IME (Intenational Mountain Expeditions) [I think that's what it stands for] for the non-corporate version of climbing gear. It's a small hole in the wall shop nestled in next to REI, and they had good advice for me, and a fair selection of shoes and other climbing equipment. I ended up purchasing a $35 harness there for anyone that would want to be my belay buddy, and I found a beat up 65 liter pack for $10 that I can use to haul my rope and gear up the mountain. I did end up going back to REI for my shoes. They were very helpful, and I was able to pick out a pair for $80. I tried on a few different ones, but in the end the cheapest ones felt the best on my foot. Usually you go down a size or more from your regular shoes to climbing shoes. This forces your toes to curl up, and transmits more of your body weight through your foot as one whole unit rather than a bunch of gangly fragile toes.

After assembling all of my gear I went with my girlfriend, Brooke, back up to Mill Creek Canyon to go climbing. She has a fear of heights as well, but for some reason trusted me that I knew what I was doing. All I can say is that I'm grateful for YouTube videos reminding me of the stuff I learned from the rock climbing gym in Arizona, and teaching me a few new things. Again I hiked up, set the rope and rappelled down. Then I showed Brooke how to get clipped into the belay device, and I tied myself to the rope. I did a few short runs just so she could practice stopping a fall, and letting me back down to the ground safely. Then I did a full run to the top. It was a bit scary tackling the overhangs. I was immensely grateful for the rope (although I didn't fall), and I was amazed at what a difference the shoes made in my climbing. I had only used climbing shoes in a gym, and I had only climbed outdoors with normal sneakers or boots. Using the climbing shoes outdoors turned me into a whole different climber.

Brooke took a turn heading up the wall. She got a little scared at parts, but handled it very well. I was impressed with her for being a first timer. I'm glad she trusted me, and we had a fun safe time out there. Now I just need to get some more climbing buddies so we can have people to take pictures, some to belay, some to climb. I'm also really looking forward to this summer when I can go canyoneering in Zion.

Mt. Olympus

2012-02-05T11:44:00.000-10:00

Friday morning I went to my economics class like I do every day, and right as I was getting into the last five minutes of class I goot a sudden jolt of excitement, or adrenaline because I knew I was going to do something fun that day.
I quickly ate some food, and rushed home. I packed up my old backpack that had been with me when I camped on an island in Arizona with my family. We had to swim to the island because it was too rocky for boats to get near....also we didn't have a boat. I had taken that backpack to England and Wales on my mission. Often I was annoyed that it was too big and bulky, but it served me well every time I had to bring home groceries on bike or foot. I have had many wonderful experiences with that backpack, and it was definitely on its last legs. After its orange and grey cloth was filled with some climbing rope, 4 bottles of water, some snow pants, and some trail mix, I plunked it down in the back of my Subaru, and headed off towards Mount Olympus.
Mount Olympus is one of the taller peaks in the nearby area. The summit is at 9,600 feet (2,000 feet higher than I've climbed before) and to get to it you have to traverse rough terrain, steep inclines, and deep snow over about a 3.5 miles trail (2 miles more than I've done on a climb since I moved to Utah). It loomed out of the distance like a giant, as I got closer to the trail head parking lot I couldn't even see the peak anymore because it was so far away. There was graffiti on the concrete slabs in the parking lot, and every parking space had piles of broken safety glass in it. Clearly car break-ins were not a rare occurance here. Luckily I had nothing of worth in my car except maybe my CDs, but who listens to CDs anymore anyway. I booted up my Garmin GPS, cinched up the straps on my aged backpack, took my ski poles in hand, and started off on the trek.

I was only a hundred yards up the trail when I realized that this was no baby trail for the weak hearted, it was steep, rocky, and difficult... Just the way I like it. Some kids were scrambling over the lowest boulder on the side of the trail; this too had gratuitous amounts of graffiti on it. There were some anchor points for rock climbing, and if I had had more time (and a belaying buddy) I would have been tempted to climb it, but I had to push on. It was already noon, and I anticipated a 7 hour hike. I really wanted to get back before night fall.
I have been watching a bit too much Man vs. Wild on YouTube, so one plan that crossed through my mind was to scale the mountain, then create a snow shelter on one of the protected faces of the mountain, sleep through the night in the wild, and then go exploring some more the following day. One problem with this was that I didn't have any gear with me. I suppose the whole point of survival expeditions is making it through with whatever you have with you at the time, but I was in no quest to get in over my head unnecessarily. I was confident that I would have been fine, and that I had sufficient skill to tackle the wilderness alone, but it would still have been nice to have at least a flint and steel along with me... or maybe a sleeping bag. Soon though I'll be out there for a 2 day trek; that should be an adventure.
I hiked up the trail and found a rather large boulder that looked like fun. Probably about 80 feet tall. I scaled it once taking the easy route, then did it again with my camera at the bottom to film my ascent. It was tougher than I though because I had my ruck sack offsetting my center of gravity, but I made it up in a few minutes. I think it would be fun to have a camera crew following me around like Bear Grylls, but so far I don't really do anything cool enough to justify filming. I just think it would be sweet.

The ski poles helped out a ton on the climb up. Often the shale under foot would break away, and as I got higher and higher up into the mountain the snow got deeper and deeper. Also I realized that once I'm above 6,000feet, every step feels increasingly heavier. Around 8,000 feet I kept sliding backwards as I tried to climb. I passed a foreigner who said he was the only one to make it to the summit in a while. I was getting frustrated by how easily I was losing my breath. There is much less oxygen at higher altitudes, an you lose about 3.5 degrees of temperature for every thousand feet that you climb. It was 38 degrees in the parking lot, and I had a 4,000 foot climb to the summit.

Soon I broke above the tree level, and I could see the other mountains in the range. It seems that no matter how high I climb, there is always another peak that is just slightly higher up, taunting me. The city was still close at hand, and I could see the whole valley splayed out beneath me. From my vantage point I could see the Great Salt Lake... I wonder how long it would take to swim across.
The last few hundred feet were nearly vertical. I had to be careful to place my feet in the packed snow prints left by the foreigner's crampons. The ski poles lost their value in the veertical terrain and I had to stox them along side my pack. It's much easier to do this with my hiking pack vs. my school pack. Still I'd like to get some proper gear. It depresses me to think about how much of my kit was purchased at Wal-Mart.

At the top the view was unforgettable. I could see for miles around. It slowly began to sink in just how much wilderness there really is back here. I'd love to get lost back in the mountains for a week and get away from the hustle and bustle of life.
It's a strange feeling when you get to the summit of sucha tall (to me) mountain. 9,600 feet above sea level. The last time I was up at this altitude, I was in a pressurized airplane cabin. Still it was all worth it for the view. It's hard to get up here and see all of this and not believe in God. All of creation just fills me with awe.
I found a mail box buried underneath some snow with peoples names and artifacts. One wrote a peom, one left a condom wrapper, on left an american flag, some left business cards. I wrote my name and date with the pen that was stached in the mail box, and began my descent. I suppose the view from teh top is definitely worth the effort of the climb, but for me, the challenge of the climb is in itself reason enough to take it on.

To speed up my descent, and make it possible to get to the Subaru in time, I donned my snow pants, held my backpack in front and slid on my backside as far as I could. It was fun, but dangerous. I got up to speeds of 25 MPH on my slides, and I had to be careful to dodge the rocks hidden underneath the snow. If I got it right it would greatly speed up my progress and help me get home before sundown; get it wrong and I could end up with a broken tailbone, or worse.

At the end of the day I got back in just under a 6 hour round trip. I was dead tired, and rested most of the next day; but all I can think about is which climb I'm gonna do next.

The Front

2012-01-16T15:27:00.001-10:00

The air was a thick haze like you used to see in a bar. The guy in front of me in line bought a good sized zip-loc bag filled with pure white powder. Was this some strange druggie hangout I had just walked in to? No, the haze in the air, and the contents of the bag were one and the same, climber's chalk. I found a nearby bouldering gym online. As it turns out it's located just behind the Wal-Mart that I went to for my school supplies. I bought a day pass to "The Front" which gave me access to the weight room, the tread mills, the yoga room, and of course the bouldering wall; all for $15.00. I did have to rent shoes for an additional $5.00, but I'd say it was money well spent.
The wall was about 15 feet high and a couple hundred feet long. There were enough people there to confirm that this wasn't some shady fly-by-night operation, but it was by no means overcrowded. there were no top-ropes like I was used to at the rock climbing gyms I had been to in Arizona, but those had 45 foot walls, and I preferred this. I didn't need anyone to belay me, and there were ample amounts of padding on the floor to save me even if I completely fell flat on my back.
It only took a few ascents for me to realize that I do not have the forearm strength required for this kind of climbing. there were only a few very small sections that were not inclined to some degree, and thus I needed to have a very strong grip to keep my body on the wall. On my first climb I got near the top and tried a dynamic move (where you swing to reach a handhold and aren't necessarily holding onto anything while you're moving) and scraped my arm. I had to keep caking chalk onto it to keep it from bleeding. I tried a few of the more difficult climbs, and kept going back again and again to the wall. Each attempt (even on the easy routes) took a huge toll on my wrists and forearms. After about an hour I couldn't support my own body weight from one hand, which made climbing nearly impossible. I guess I just need to keep going back frequently to strengthen my arms and get those muscle groups to wake up and get to work.
I had a blast though. There was a nice variety of people. A couple of kids (who must have barely started high school) were fairly proficient at kicking my butt on every route I tried. I guess I'm really not that good at climbing after all, but then again it has been more than a year since I've been to a climbing gym. There was also a cute toddler who was there climbing with his dad; he even had his own tiny chalk bag clipped to his belt. I wanna have one of those when I grow up (a kid who can climb that is).
I think I stayed at it for almost two hours,then determined that I had inhaled enough chalk dust and that my hands could no longer grip enough to make this fun. I'm looking forward to having more endurance so I can keep at it, and then I might be ready for some real climbs this summer in Moab, or Zion. But for now my hands won't do the simplest tasks I tell them to. Tying shoes, opening the car door, starting the car, and texting is all very challenging. Heck, I've been working at this pop-tart wrapper for five minutes now!

Why I love Salt Lake City

2012-01-15T12:36:00.000-10:00

Although the drive out to Utah was uneventful, living here has been an amazing eye opener. I enjoy living so close to Temple Square. It is a sight that is sacred to me. In the short amount of time that I have been here I have already had many interesting experiences there. It's awesome to see so many happy families strolling by, so many brides and grooms getting their photos taken in front of the massive doors. One thing I have noticed about being in Utah is how many more young couples are actually married. It's a different world out here. Apart from the spiritual moments I have centered around these religious areas, I have also greatly enjoyed being back up in the mountains. I think I'll have to start a hiking club at school or something because, although it's nice to get out on your own, it would be nice to have some company when I'm out on a mountain face. On Friday I had nothing to do between my morning class and the dance that was to be held that evening. I sat on my computer for a couple hours killing time and looking at places I'd like to see soon. I began by searching for nearby hikes. They all looked kinda lame. So then I searched for a topographical map and narrowed down the three highest peaks within a half hour drive. I plotted one a map and decided I would drive over to see what the hiking might be like for another day. By the time I was don writing down the directions I had decided to bring my hiking boots in case I wanted to get out and take some pictures. Then as I went in the closet to get the boots I figured I might as well bring along my ski poles to help if I decided to go for a little walk. By the time I got down to my car I had loaded up with boots, poles, backpack, two water bottles, trail mix, camera, sunglasses, GPS, and about 180' of rope. Clearly I am not one to sit back and daydream about doing something for too long. Spontaneously doing something today trumps planning on doing it someday every time in my book.
My old Subaru Outback chugged along the freeway as I made my way closer and closer to the mountains. Off in the distance the Wasatch mountains are a formidable sight. As I drew nearer and nearer to them I began to realize how insanely tall 10,000 feet really was. It's when you get right at the base of the mountain that you think you can actually climb it because: 1. at least you're starting to climb. and 2. your perspective is so thrown off at that point that it doesn't look all that bad.
The entrance tot he park was a little town catering to the needs of skiers and snowboarders. Every signpost and store facade seemed to have some allusion to being on the slopes. I liked it. I stopped at a 7eleven to pick up some new batteries for my GPS. (I still say that is one of the best $95 I've ever spent). After driving up the twisty road for about 3 miles I pulled off to the side in a snow bank and geared up. I had wisely chosen to wear my old hand-me-down Columbia jacket instead of my new pea coat this time around; it was light, it was warm, and I didn't really care if it got torn up.
It only took a few yards of hiking for me to notice the benefit of bringing the ski poles. It only took a few more yards to realize that my body was still not used to a brisk walk with such little oxygen available. I climbed along the gently zig-zagging path which was clearly intended to be at least bicycle (if not wheelchair) accessible. Too tame, I thought to myself. I looked down the narrow and inviting pathway, and then looked directly to my right at the boulders ascending high overhead. That's the route for me. I first tried to tuck my ski poles in between my pack and my coat; then I attempted to insert them vertically between the strap and my spine. In the end I left them dangling from my wrists while I climbed over the first boulder. Since the poles kept getting snagged on cracks and branches I deduced that their benefit on this particular outing was outweighed by their hindrance. I left them on top of my first boulder and trusted to my GPS that I would be able to recover them after I was done gallivanting.
I scrambled up over the next few boulders only to find that the way up from that point was impeded by several scrubby looking shrubs and juniper trees that were grown too tightly together for me to pass without a machete. I surveyed my surroundings and found the cliff on the opposite end of a small valley to be much taller, more interesting, and inevitably more fun. As I traipsed along the edge of this ravine I took note of the slippery, sharp shale that lay all about in varying different hues. There were some large chunks that were light green, like rusted copper; the majority, however, was a deep purple color.

I made my way to the bottom of the canyon and began again my ascent. The entire cliff face was comprised of multiple layers, and leaning several degrees towards the south. It looked kind of like giant ice cream sandwiches someone had set up like dominoes that were slowly tumbling down. Often I would have to do some legitimate rock climbing to get up to a ledge where I could rest and reevaluate. When I though I was on the right rock I could climb all the way to the top I realized that I had to switch to another one and jumped across. It was a bit disconcerting when something I took to be a very solid rock broke off in my hand. I let it fall and it seemed to hang in midair until it was obliterated on the other rocks below. A lot of the climb was along the tilted face of the rocks and so I didn't really need to cling on for dear life, but I definitely couldn't have stood up and hiked. It was a job for all fours.

One time I got as high as I could on a certain face and had to switch to another. the gap in between the two was about 12 feet, more than I wanted to jump, and less than I could span with my body. I had to back track a little and go at it again. I've found that I like down climbing much less that up climbing. When you're going up you can forget how far you've come and you don't really notice that you're 300 feet off the ground; you can also see the hand holds ahead of you. When climbing down you have to feel around with your feet for a secure hold while your hands are getting more and more tired from supporting your body weight, and the weight of all that stupid trail mix you brought along. Side note: Steel toed boots do not make good climbing shoes. If ever I got nervous, or started to freeze up I had to remind myself to just keep moving. The longer you wait, the more tired you get, and the more psychologically strenuous your activity becomes. Besides, I was out there alone. The only clue I had left was a vague facebook post about climbing another mountain. I don't know if you know this or not,but there are a freaking lot of mountains in Utah. If I slipped, fell, broke something, got mauled by a mountain lion, or got lost, there was no one coming to get me; such is the cost and risk of going off the beaten path. -Don't worry Mom, I'm really just trying to make this sound cooler than it actually was-

I rested at the top of the final cliff and took some video. The first set of boulders I had climbed seemed so remote. I hadn't covered that much ground horizontally, but from my Subaru (that I could still see) to my perch atop these rock was about a 750 foot climb. The winding road I pulled off of to park was more below me than it was beside me. It's a strange phenomenon that's hard to describe, and feelings of vertigo can set in pretty quickly if you're not careful. The whole mountain is tipped one way, gravity is pulling you another way, and the road that you know to be level, flat, and smooth is laid out in front of you. I found myself leaning further back than was probably necessary just to avoid an unintended front flip.

After my short recess I continued to climb. Hiking is a lot tougher for me than rock climbing. After a few feet I already missed my ski poles. My lungs ached, and each step got exponentially harder than the one before. I finally got up to about 6,100 feet before the same scrubby brush that had stood in my way before showed up. I couldn't go any further up the mountain, and I surely didn't want to go back the way I had come. I decided to go down the nice sunny side of the mountain. It still involved a lot of down climbing, and some leaping from rock to rock, but all in all it went favorably. Near the end of my descent I came across a few boulders that were inclined too far for me to down climb in my current skill level,and too high for me to jump down. I realized that I hadn't yet tested out my rope. I looped it around a rock and began to slide down to the ground below. It was about a 15 foot descent onto uneven ground. I still didn't fully trust the rope. It was cheap stuff I had picked up at a hardware store back in Wisconsin. My brothers, my nephews, and I had been using it to practice rappelling down the tree in my mom's back yard. It was only rated to 135 pounds, and I weigh 30 more than that without the backpack. I doubled it up, and lamented the fact that I didn't have thicker gloves as I let the rope slide through my hands. So far so good. Once safely back on the ground I attempted to unloop the rope, but to no avail. It had gotten stuck good and tight. I tried a couple times to climb the difficult incline. I would get up about 8 feet then run out of good hand holds. I dropped back down a few times, then took a swing at it without all my gear. Still no luck. I realized that: 1. I'm really not that good at rock climbing, 2. Steel toed boots are really not good for rock climbing shoes, and 3. I was tired out from all the other climbing I had already done that day. I left my stuff and walked around to find a more favorable way up. Such a way was found only about 50 feet away; guess I didn't need to use the rope after all.
After getting back on the trail at the base of the mountain I used my trusty GPS to get me back to the ski poles. I hiked down to my Subaru, and collapsed into the front seat. All in all it was a pretty good hike, and I still had time to get home and shower before the dance that night.

Salt Lake City

2012-01-07T14:55:00.001-10:00

I recently packed up all of my stuff and moved all the way to Salt Lake City, Utah for school. So far it's been great. It was about 20 hours of driving for me, but I got over it quickly.
This is such a beautiful city. I live a block away from Temple Square which is amazing! I can look out my window and see a handful of historical church sites.
Today I wanted to get out and explore, so I got in my car to head to a nearby rock climbing gym, but almost as soon as I started driving I decided I'd rather go climb a mountain instead. I had no idea where I was going, but I figured I would just drive up the steepest roads I could find until I got to a trail head or something. I'm still surprised at how well my Subaru is holding up after 217,000 miles on it. True, I haven't had it for too long, but there's no denying they are great cars. There seem to be a lot more Subarus out west as well.
Anyway, I drove in circles for a bit until I saw a promising looking mountain. I pulled over in a rather affluent neighborhood and hopped out. As soon as I started scrambling up over the rocks I noticed how much thinner the air was, and how out of shape I was for such endeavors. After I had climbed up abut 300 feet I set my GPS and started my hike. I climbed up one ridge, and saw some cliffs off in the distance. It looked too far to get to, especially for how mad my lungs already were at me; it looked like a good goal though. We had just gotten a few inches of snow.
I felt like every vertical foot I climbed was harder than 20 feet going forward. Eventually I made my way around the mountains until I came to the cliffs. It was difficult with the wind whipping my face and my body not deciding if it was cold or hot. Often I would open up my jacket to cool down because of how hard it was to climb, but at other times I had to put my hood up and button up all the way to protect against the frigid mountain air.
As I got nearer to the cliffs I noticed that they were not just smooth sandstone, as I had supposed, but they were a strange pile of rocks of various sizes and colors all held together by a natural concrete. It was very dangerous climbing because every time I thought I had a good solid handhold or foothold it would break away and the stone would go tumbling hundreds of feet into the valley below. I tried to take pictures and get video, but they never seem to do it justice.
The trek back to the car was every bit as exhausting as my hike out. I did see a few deer hiding in the dogwood thickets. They would wait and stare at me until I attempted to get closer, then they would go bounding off. I was amazing how easy they made it look. Here I was sliding and scrambling not knowing what kind of surface was under the snow cover, and they could practically run down the mountain and think nothing of it.
All in all it was about a 3 mile hike with a vertical change of 1,066 feet.
I drove back into town and grabbed a Gyro from a local burger place. It's the closest version of a kebab I've had since I was in England. When I got out of my car I noticed that I had left my camera on the roof of the car for the whole ride home. I'm just glad I stuck it into the pile of snow on top; if it had slid off at any point I'm sure I would have never found it again.

All hauled out

2011-10-10T14:57:00.002-09:00

The sky was still dark at 5:30 when my alarm went off. I awoke to find that I still had my jeans and t-shirt on from the night before. I hastily crammed down a pop-tart and hopped up into my lifted Jeep Cherokee. Down at the Marina I met up with Mark shortly after fumbling with he keys in the creaky gate. It was only 6 hours prior that we had dropped the mast on my Bristol 24.
Dropping the mast was a stressful proposition as raising it had been a nightmare both times. The mast was old heavy aluminum, and the forces being exerted combined with the leverage placed on all the components worried me. I rigged up the boom to act as a lever arm, and used the main sheet to do all the work of lowering it. I also ran a precautionary line from the back stay to the stern rail just to be safe. We had another couple people helping out, but in the end the mast lowered very slowly and smoothly. It was as uneventful as I could have hoped for.

After saying goodbye to everyone and tidying up I took a moment to pause in the companionway hatch to think about my boat. It had been almost a year ago that I had bought it. She had come a long way. There are a lot of cosmetic problems that I fixed, and some that I inflicted over my ownership of her. I had traveled over a hundred miles aboard her over the course of the summer. It wasn't quite as grand as I had planned, but there are times when you just need to take a step back and re-evaluate what's going on. My trip to Manitowoc had been my final sail. Had I known I may have carried it out with a bit more fanfare, but still it seemed a fitting time to say goodbye to my boat. It wasn't just the last sail of the season, but the last I would ever have on her. I'm thankful she sold so quickly, so I wouldn't have time to change my mind. Still I'd like to get her cleaned up for the next owner.
Mark helped steer while I rowed my 8 foot pram dinghy. The key to effectively pulling such a heavy boat by such primitive means is to use a very long line to absorb the shock as you row. We were making probably a knot-an-a-half over toward the boat ramp. We tied up and I ran errands until the moving company came to pull her out.
The big semi trailer backed down the boat ramp and easily slid Aequitas up out of the water. I had forgotten how pretty she looked when you could see all of her. Admittedly she needed some cleaning. Algae had grown on the one side exposed to the sun, and I could see the chunk of fiberglass that had been taken out of the bow from that fateful failed voyage with the Bradings.
After the stands were in place on the old road I went to work cleaning off the slime. I only had one sponge and no water to use, so it kind of just mixed in with the paint, and has since flaked off into a very unattractive finish. I intend to patch up the bow, scrub off the flakes, and if I can get around to it, apply some more varnish to the woodwork. I want the next owners to have as little reason for remorse as possible. She is after all a strong seaworthy boat, I just can't give her the life she deserves right now. I daresay I'm leaving her better than I found her though. She got to get out on the water and ride around happily on the waves. I'm sure it won't be long before she's back out there, reunited with one of her previous owners. I am still quite anxious to find if he has any information into her history.

All in the family

2011-10-03T15:45:00.001-09:00

Tomorrow I am officially pulling my boat out of the water. I was woken up this morning by the moving company asking if I was ready to go at 7:00 in the morning Tuesday. I still have to drop the mast which will be an ordeal in itself. I told them my predicament, but now I think I will try to get it down tonight with the help of a few friends, and of course I will be enlisting the assistance off Innocent bystanders. We're all boaters though, so you lend a hand where you can. I guess I've learned to accept how friendly people are down at the docks.
I have gotten a few emails and offers for my boat. I have been praying to know if I really should be going off to school, or if I should really be selling my boat. When I bought her I had nagging doubts that I ignored proving that I can push on through anything, but now that I have put her up for sale a lot of things seem to be clicking into place. It has been a big drain on my time and energy, but for now I will still cherish the time that I've spent learning and living this summer on my boat. One of the people who emailed me said that he thinks it used to be his dad's old boat. He can remember being on it as a 7 year old. Apparently the color and trim all look the same. He's trying to get it back in the family. I would much rather sell to someone like that, than just a random person with no attachment to the boat. I wonder if he has any old photos of it, or what it's name was before. It would be awesome to have a scrapbook of previous owners for a boat. I wasn't sure, but he asked if I still had a particular teakettle on board that was of sentimental significance to his father. I can only imagine it is the peculiar silver one with the cooking ring mounted below it. No one that has seen this kettle has ever seen another like it. I hope we can put this together for him. I was all set to keep her, but for things to be moving along so quickly, and for a buyer to pop up for me in a week when the boat yard couldn't sell her for years must mean something.

Moving on at summer's end

2011-09-30T07:52:00.000-09:00

Sorry it's been so long since I've written anything. It is more an indication that there is a lot going on in my life, not that there's nothing to report. After my week of solid sailing, I had an off week where I did almost no sailing at all. I need to keep in mind that this blog is about more than just sailing. So I guess we will find out together that there is more to life. One Monday I was sitting at work and I realized that I only had three or four weeks before my boat had to be out of the water. The temperature here has already started to drop at the rate of about 10 degrees per month. It may not seem like much, but the first few mornings when I awoke to 50 degrees on the thermometer were not fun. Anyway, as I was sitting contemplating what to do with my remaining time I couldn't help thinking of how much I still wanted to sail to another city, at least once this summer. After a quick scan of the weather report I called two of my brothers and set up a voyage for that night. It was to be the last full moon of the sailing season, and the wind looked to be pretty strong. There are two cities equidistant from Sheboygan, one North and one South. I intended to go to Port Washington which lies to the south about 25 miles away.
We met up at my Mom's house and made a last minute run to the store to pick up beef jerky and granola bars. Down at the marina the 20+ MPH winds were making it very difficult to raise the sails. I made the call to reef the main and not put up the jib just yet. We shoved off of the dock easily enough, but since the wind was blowing strong directly out of the south I had to tack to get out of the harbor. Reefing in the main had changed the shape of the sail a bit and made it impossible to point as high into the wind as I needed to to get out. Spencer had the brilliant idea to drop anchor while we sorted it out. Yes we did get blown up against the rocks again, and we did in the end have to fend off the massive racing yacht moored innocently to her T-dock, but shhh! don't tell anyone. There was no damage done to either vessel, unless you count leaving a small footprint sized smudge in the wax coat as damage.
A nice guy in his tiny aluminum fishing boat came up and offered to help tow. We had to drop sail while he revved the little engine to its limits. Spencer hurt his hand trying to hold the rope instead of tying it off. I was glad that he actually helped us out of the harbor, and not just back to the dock, and I was amazed that his little outboard could pull my 6,000 pound boat against such a fierce wind.
Eventually we were let loose out in the harbor back lit by a brilliant full moon. We sped past the lighthouse and were half a mile out in the lake before we got the main lashed back onto the boom. It was far too windy out there to use both sails. I tried heading up into the wind, but it was impossible using just the jib. We called mom and let her know that we would be heading North to Manitowoc instead of Port Washington, that way at least if we were lost at sea someone would know where to look for us.
The GPS showed us making awesome progress, and it wasn't until 4 in the morning that the wind actually began to shift and die a bit. I had to wake my crew up to help raise the main, and then they went back to sleep. I think Spencer slept most of the trip. The rollers would chase us down and pass under the stern while the dinghy kept trying to surf and slam into the boat. I let both of my brothers take turns at the helm. It was much nicer having a crew that was more confident at steering so I could get a better quality catnap. The wind had blown us pretty far offshore; we had about 7 miles to make up getting back in to Manitowoc. We were all exhausted and at about 7 in the morning we decided to just drop anchor off of a beach and sleep there rather than trying to make it into the harbor. I didn't want to have to radio anyone or pay any fees. We threw out both anchors in about 7 feet of water. The waves slammed us about a bit, and the wind kept howling through the bare rigging as I tried to rest. In the end I had to go up on deck, stow the sails better, and bring in the main anchor because the chain was just too loud for me in the foreword cabin. I slept till around 10:30, bailed out the dinghy, and gave my brothers a rude awakening when I had the jib set and called for them to come bring in the anchor. It was the first and only time we ever had to use the windlass. I had let out about 60 feet of line, and the 20 pound anchor had dug itself well into the sand. Finally we cranked it in and swung around back for home. We never stepped foot in Manitowoc that day, but we were only a couple hundred yards away from their lighthouse, so it still counts.
As we cruised past a the inlets for a power plant several cormorants took flights and began their daily dive for meals. The scenery was gorgeous. We stayed close to the shore so we could see better details of the houses and golf courses that we sailed past. There were no other boats in sight, and there seemed to be a profound silence on land for the first few hours. We dispelled this by blasting whatever was loaded onto the iPod on board. I must say that it was a rather eclectic collection of tunes, but luckily the tiny speakers couldn't reach far enough to bother anyone not on my boat... Perhaps out off-key singing of Styx: Come Sail Away would have though.
We got home at about 5 in the evening to find my younger brother, Liam, waiting at the dock with his surfboard. Spencer left after helping to stow the sails; Max and I went to watch Liam surf for a bit. He did quite well for a rookie on tiny waves. I was unsteady on my feet for a few hours as I got used to dry land again. I can't remember much more, other than that I was really hungry when we got home. It was a great cruise, I learned more. It was a bit more enjoyable, but sailing is not the quickest way to get anywhere. I am becoming more and more aware that the boat I have may not be the best one for what I need in my life right now.
I have finally decided to stop putting it off and head to college. Maybe I needed this summer to see what type of sailing I really do like; what type of boat will I really use, or if I am really up to the lofty goals I have set. I do fully believe that a Bristol 24 could carry someone across the Atlantic comfortably, I just don't think I have the time or resources right now to pursue that goal, and rather than sink any more money into Aequitas I think I will travel by plane and by foot, by train and by car for a while. I have put my boat up for sale on the Internet and will hope to recoup some of the costs so that I may fund my education, and perhaps some of my travels. It is a bittersweet feeling. They say that the two happiest days in a sailor's life are the day he buys his boat, and the day he finally sells it. Maybe I just need to get a little trailer-sailor so I can haul it with me wherever I may go and take advantage of both coasts and inland lakes without needing professional transport or a huge truck.
It is sad though knowing that the trip to Manitowoc was my last time sailing her. I have been sleeping on the couch at my mom's house for a couple weeks now because it's gotten too cold in the marina. I'll miss her when she's gone, and if she doesn't sell, I won't mind if she sticks around for a few years so at some later date I may revisit my dreams of cruising.
I will still endeavor to maintain this blog of any other travels I do. Thanks for reading!

A solid week

2011-09-02T15:53:00.000-09:00

This week started out with the fiasco of Sunday sailing, followed by the trepidation of Tuesday which ended up being a perfect day, then on Wednesday I wanted to go sailing with Dani in the morning, but we never got together in time and I had to head off to work. I text messaged her a few times throughout the day, and was delighted when she called me close to quitting time and informed me that she was in my neighborhood. At first she said that she was in my Cul-de-sac which I thought was a bit odd. Then it clicked that she was in the marina. She had been visiting on the Sea Scout’s Merit 25 and had me come down to say hi. I couldn’t very well ignore her since I live down there. As I was nearing the harbor she also invited me to join them on a night sail that they had been “roped in to”. I’m not so sure it would have taken too much convincing to get her to go sailing. We turned on the running lights, I fired up the motor, and we had a lovely evening sailing under just jib. The wind was quite fresh and we were heeled nicely. It was awesome to be able to look up and see the Milky Way over the pitch black waters.

The next day I didn’t sail at all, but Friday I went with my brother, Max, and his girlfriend. She got sea sick with the 3-4 foot waves. I felt bad, but we had a great time sailing from 6:30 till sunset. On Friday I spend $70.00 on an antique outboard motor for the dinghy. It started right up when I bought it, then I slapped it on the dinghy and didn’t bother with it because I had more guests joining me for the evening. My brother, sister, and a few friends came along for another breezy sail. The waves were about the biggest I’ve sailed in, and Aequitas handled it all with ease.

On Sunday after church I went down to try and start the motor. It was a bit disconcerting when it began to spray gasoline everywhere. It took a couple tries, but I got her cranked up and was able to motor about 3 meters away from my dock before the engine died. I had forgotten to bring the oars with me and so I was reduced to hand paddling it back to the dock. Luckily the wind was in my favor. My siblings and mom came down for a Sunday afternoon sail. It was glorious. The wind was fresh, the seas were exciting. My mom got a bit seasick, as did my brother, Liam, but after an hour or so all the kids just went below and took turns taking naps. It was peaceful. We sailed easily on a broad reach out east and down south, but were hard pressed pinching up into the wind to make it home in a timely manner.

Tomorrow I should be picking up an old Jeep Cherokee so I can finally have my own car, I can tow my grandma’s little dinghy boat, and I can go off-roading. Wish me luck.

Conquering

2011-08-24T08:10:00.000-09:00

As soon as I got done with my blog post yesterday I thought about how nervous I had been about sailing since I have so many mishaps. I realized that I was letting my fear of failure keep me in the harbor on a day that could turn out to be a beautiful day. I didn't want to let my anxiety keep me from doing something I love. I didn't want to crash into the pier again, but I wasn't gonna sit on land if I could possibly be out on the water.
After I left the library I drove straight to the marina, threw off the mooring lines, flipped my boat around, raised the main, and headed out. No collisions, no close calls. I didn't even really have to tack to get out of the harbor. Getting out is the hard part, and once that was out of the way it was easy. I called Dani so she could come sailing after all; but since I told her the weather was going to be too bad, she had already made other plans. I sailed off alone.
The wind was pretty strong, coming out of the south, and it took me a couple minutes to set the jib, but once both sails were up I was cruising along at a pretty good pace just enjoying life. My brother, Spencer, called to see if he and his friend, Seth, could come sailing too. I could see a few people starting to get out their paddle boards and surf boards. There were pretty good waves for once, usually the lake doesn't kick up cresting waves close to shore. I dropped anchor just outside of the heavy impact zone for the waves and began to get the dinghy ready. Aequitas was still jumping up and down quite a bit on the waves so getting into the little 8 foot boat was somewhat challenging. I surfed on a couple waves as I got closer to shore, but just as I was about to get out and walk the rest of the way a huge wave broke over the stern and filled the dinghy halfway with water and sand.
Getting in was the easy part. I almost got swamped with just me in the boat. Now we were cramming two more people in and trying to fight against the waves. It was a pretty hairy situation, but very fun. We had to lean one way to avoid the waves, and then counter balance to keep water from lapping up over the gunwales. I had to push the boat past the breakers before I could climb up and start rowing. In the end we had a glorious sail and I'm really glad I went.
A life lived in fear is a life half lived.

Shaken, stirred, and on the rocks.

2011-08-23T08:27:00.000-09:00

I have the worst luck taking people sailing. I don't know why it is, but for some reason I can sail the boat perfectly fine on my own; but when I try and bring people along there's some kind of catastrophe.
My friend, Dani, is home for a couple weeks visiting from Alaska. The plan was to go sailing after church on Sunday. It all seemed like a good idea. There was a fair breeze coming out of the west. I had learned my lesson last time to just go out using the jib in this type of wind. Dani brought along her two brothers and two sisters to enjoy the beautiful sunny day out sailing. So far so good. My neighbors had left and sailed on down to Racine for the rest of the season, so there was plenty of room to turn my boat around in the slip and head out forward. It should have been the easiest time ever. AS we were shoving off, we all hopped on board except for Dani's older brother; he hesitated slightly and with each passing second the boat got further and further from land. I had the dinghy behind, but he didn't jump into that one either. He also had some electronics with him, so he couldn't very well jump in and swim. I'm not one to leave anyone behind, so I sailed down to the end of the dock and tried to spin around. This was much harder than anticipated, and we only just made it back to a slip at the very end of the dock. Once again we were close to Chance a Santa Cruz 70...very expensive boat. I was a bit nervous of shoving off so close to this other boat, but we made it around ok, and just as I turned the boat to head up into the wind more and trim the sails in a bit, my boat started to head for the rocks. I tried counter steering as much as I could, but in the end had to flip the tiller to avoid the breakwater. We did a 360 degree turn and tried it again. the same thing happened this time again. In hindsight I should have just eased the jib out all the way and let that carry us out of the harbor. I'm pretty sure I did, and it didn't work, but it was so stressful that the details are a bit blurry right now. The second time we were headed straight for the rocks again, and even though I spilled the sail completely, we were still drifting sideways towards them. Once again I flipped the tiller over in hopes that we could swing around and miss the rocks. No such luck. I called for people to be on the fore-deck to kick off the rocks if anything were to happen, but I forget that most people don't know how heavy the boat is, how deep the rocks are. I'm sure if it was my first time on a boat I wouldn't want to run the risk of getting crushed.
In the end I had to run foreward and try to stop the boat. I jumped onto the rocks and braced myself against the bow pulpit, but we were already moving too fast. there was a loud CRUNCH! as the bow slammed into a submerged rock. I had run aground before, but that was slowly, and against sand. There was no telling the damage that had just been done. I pushed the boat back and tried to head out again, but the wind resisted my best efforts at even getting back to the slip. In the end some concerned citizens in rigid inflatable boats came over and pulled me back to safety. Reputation: gone. Confidence: shattered. Boat: battered.
We tied up at the slip and thanked our rescuers. The siblings left and Dani stayed behind to make sure I didn't die of shame. For some reason she blamed herself, but this wouldn't have happened if I had my engine working, or possibly if I had my mainsail up. It was to blustery for both sails in the harbor. I wish I had been able to learn what I needed to do and still gone sailing, but after an attempt like that I feel much better just sitting at the dock and not risking it again. Sailing is a risk, and I guess this is my "practice boat", I just wish I could sail whenever and wherever I want.
I put on my snorkel mask and dove down to assess the damage. Luckily I did but such a sturdy boat. I know she can take quite a beating, but that doesn't mean I like inflicting injuries. There was a small chunk of fiberglass below the waterline. It looked like a little divot. There was no hole, and no water coming into the boat, it's just one more thing I'll have to repair when I pull her out in October. We went for a walk, I was able to clear my mind a bit, but then we sat on the boat chatting for the rest of the day. I really wanted to go sailing.
Today we were planning on sailing as well, but the weather called for damaging winds, hail, thunderstorms, and possibly tornadoes. It's probably wise that we didn't go today.

Photoless

2011-08-18T15:06:00.001-09:00

I've had a few pretty good days when I've been able to get out and enjoy all of the goodies the Sheboygan has to offer in the summer time. A friend of mine who I haven't seen in 3 years came back to Wisconsin with her husband for a couple weeks. It was really good to see her and catch up on all that has changed over the years. It's so weird to look back at who you were, and see who you've become.
Tuesday I tried going sailing with my brothers and sister. It was a really gusty west wind. Getting out of the slip was a test in timing. Then when we got out the wind was directly behind us and the helm wouldn't answer. There was too much pressure on one side of the boat. I had to keep running forward to fend off other boats. In the end we almost got blown up against the rocks. Max and I cut our feet jumping off and pushing the boat away. I think Max has had that experience each time he's been sailing with me. I would much rather ram my $5000 boat into the rocks than have it even brush up against the $300,000 racing yacht at the end of my dock. We finally got back to my slip with a little help from a local boater who took a line from us and walked us over. It was another frustrating day, but we quickly decided to grab the snorkeling gear and dive off the pier. I practiced holding my breath while walking on the bottom with weight belts. I think 20 pounds was a bit intense to use for a long time in 12 foot deep water. My lungs got a good workout though.
The next day I coordinated with a few people to go cliff diving at the local quarry in the morning. I woke up at 4:45 and we drove over before dawn to dive 20 feet into the lukewarm lake below. It's a nice rush to wake you up, but because the air was so much colder than the water, we didn't really get out much, we just treaded water for an hour. At first I wasn't sure if it was legal or not there (that's why we go so early in the morning), but then when we got there we found a sign that asked people not to dump garbage and tables into the quarry. It said nothing about diving, and there was a knotted rope tied to a tree, making it easier to get back up.... clearly an invitation to dive.
So after diving and stopping at Big Apple Bagels for breakfast we relaxed in the hot tub for about an hour. I almost fell asleep cause it was so warm. The wind was still pretty fresh. My friend and her husband had never been sailing before, and my other friend who came along had only gone sailing briefly on the 4th of July. We tried heading out under just main but ran into the same problem of having too much weather helm. It dawned on me to try heading out under just jib seeing as the wind was coming from behind. It worked beautifully, and I was able to navigate out of the harbor with no issues.
One thing we realized after we got out was that the wind was so strong that it would have been stupid to put the main up. It was the only time I've ever sailed any boat by jib. I couldn't point as high into the wind, and often I would have to do a huge gybe cause I couldn't get her to go up into the wind and tack. The waves built up to 4 feet and we had some fun crashing over those. All of the stuff on my shelves fell down in the cabin. I think it's funny how much housekeeping I have to do every time I go sailing. Just think about purposefully putting your house in an earthquake for fun and expecting all the dishes to stay in place.
It was a challenge to tack back into the harbor after a couple hours of sailing, but I think everyone enjoyed the experience. I learned a lot about sailing in high winds and with less than favorable sail trim. (I really wish I had self tailing winches, but they are super expensive).
After sailing I worked from 2:00 to 8:00 and then headed back to hang out. We played a game called fugitive. Basically it's like tag, hide n' seek, and cross country practice all in one. You get a group of people starting at one location and they try to get to another area (about 2 miles away) in a specified amount of time while 2 spotters chase everyone down in a car. If you get spotted by the car then you have to get in the car and try to catch the other runners. It's good fun, but kind of a work out. Then we had a bon-fire of an old couch and some Christmas lights. The copper in the wiring made an electric blue/green flame. Very cool to see.
On another day they came down at 5:30 so we could go kayaking before work. It's a good way to start the day. The lake was peaceful as I glided across the water in a "borrowed" kayak from the Sea Scouts. (I put it back). We went over by the beach to practice Eskimo rolls. I decided to stay above water this time, but someday soon I really want to perfect the art of flipping the kayak right side up without falling out. We surfed the kayaks on a few small waves for around an hour before putting them away. I love summer by the beach here in Sheboygan. I love living on a boat because it's all so much more accessible to me. Whenever I want to go for an early morning run, or swim, or whatever I can. The only regret I have is that I have no photographic proof of any of this happening.