Wednesday, 18 February 2015

Low-Buck Arts & Crafts at Stately Jones Manor

      "In the meadow, we can build a snowman..."
                                              -Felix Bernard

    ......  or not.

      As I write this, the temperature outside has nosedived to around -23 celsius.

      I am not nearly masochistic enough to calculate the windchill.

      If one is a skier, skater, ice fisherman, snowmobiler, snowboarder or snowshoer, one might enjoy freely frolicking in this frozen frontier.
      I, however, am none of the above.

      I am a sailor.

     And I am NOT going outside into this fucking frozen freakshow unless I absolutely have to.

      Luckily, I have a punchlist of off-season boat work to keep me occupied  until the lake ceases to be a solid mass entirely, and utterly, incapable of floating a boat.

     Doing something with our wobbly and plain saloon table was near the top of the "Boat projects that can be accomplished from the comfort of SJM" list.

     I've got some ideas for this project, boldly going where I had never gone before, but first: a warm-up project, an  aft cabin amuse-bouche if you will:

     Fixing the TV wall.

      The previous owners installed a small flat screen TV- its removal prior to sale has left an ugly blight in an otherwise very pleasant  aft cabin.

     SWMBO and I ruminated over this disfigurement throughout the season, and finally came up with an idea:

     A piece of scrap luan, some wood glue, and a cheap spreader to quickly, evenly and economically spread the adhesive....

      Then, trim a chart to size...

      Apply the chart to the very sticky board....

   Slather more glue on top, recalling skills vaguely remembered from elementary school art class decoupage projects.  While waiting for all that glue to dry, construct a frame from scrap mahogany trim...

Assemble  and varnish......

 ...and install (right side up) when the weather warms up.

  Right, so, feeling cocky, I got back to that saloon table....

     My initial thought was that we needed a larger table that would tie into the stripper pole, er, compression post. Upon further measuring and headscratching I realized that bigger is not better in this case.  Enlarging the table would make our current expansive and inviting recroom feel like  a cramped and cluttered cell, with a table that would be difficult to move around  and would prevent the locker door under the stove from opening fully.

So, the table can get no bigger.
It does, however need to be more stable, so I lengthened the collar underneath, that fits over the post.  Now, no wobble.

But, there is a crapload of winter left, and it is a rather plain table, so I might as well try to figure out marquetry.

     Marquetry, as defined by the OED: "Inlaid work made from small pieces of coloured wood or other materials, used for the decoration of furniture."

     So, a supply run to Lee Valley Tools  was in order.  I needed glue, veneer.... that was pretty much it.

     I still managed to spend damn near $200.

     It's that kind of store.

     I bought a "box of veneer" which was exactly as described- a pizza box full of very thin sheets of a variety of different woods:

Like, 80-100 square feet of the stuff.

The table in question is about 3 square feet.

I quickly cobbled together a low-buck veneer cutting jig- a piece of scrap ply for a bed, some aluminum angle and scraps of luan trimmed to create 90 degree, 45 degree and 22.5 degree guides to simplify the math...


 ... and discovered the tricks to cutting very thin, very brittle pieces of wood...  after destroying a bunch of very thin, very brittle pieces of wood.

Luckily, I had a lot of it.

After marking the center on the table, and the half way polints on all four sides, I laid out a simple geometric design, and proceeded to cut and tape and glue and clamp and swear my way to an end result;


       It still needs some sanding and a few more coats of varnish, but I'm not completely embarassed by the end result.

    And I still have a crapload of veneer left over.

   And a crapload of winter.

   I rummaged through the scrap pile and did some sketching and came up with a plan for a simple cockpit table.  A little ply, some reclaimed teak trim from DonorBoat, and the basics are done:



   the rough work is done, now it's just a matter of mortising and installing the hinges, final sanding, and finishing.  I'm saving that until next weekend.

   It looks like there's still lots of winter left.

Thanks for checking in, and don't forget to "Talk the Dock!"

Wednesday, 28 January 2015

Let's Talk. Not About Boats.

"...and I hope you are having the time of your life..."
                                                 -Gnarls Barkley"
*Deep breath*

This is an… interesting... day in Canada- this is "Let's Talk" Day, a day designed to open dialogue about mental illness and destigmatize crazy…
...sponsored  by a telecom company, a national corporation in an industry where it sometimes seems like the customer service staff and telemarketers are trained to drive you batshit crazy.  

     Anyirony,  Let’s Talk Day has been revered and reviled and retweeted throughout it’s 5 year history, but this year LTD seems to  be at a tipping point- people WANT to have the conversation.

So, Let’s Talk.

*Deeper breath*

Hi, I’m Brian and I’m crazy. 

I’ve been crazy for 30 years…but it took me at least 25 of those years to figure it out.

See, sometimes when you’re crazy, crazy seems normal, because it’s all you know.

And that is one of the reasons to talk.

Because no one ever talked about crazy, I thought EVERYONE felt like me.  I thought that everyone wanted to sleep all the time.  I thought that everyone felt they were a completely useless failure and never did anything right.  I thought everyone found it so damn hard to make even small decisions. I thought everyone felt every failure was a huge disaster, no matter how minor, and every success was a statistical blip, no matter how major.

I thought that everyone wanted to die.

Crazy is thinking that everything bad that happens is luck and everything good that happens is luck, and unable to care either way.

The fucking insidious thing about crazy, at least my crazy, is that I functioned, and occasionally functioned very successfully, on a daily basis… and thus, I must not be crazy.
Because crazy is obvious, right?  Crazy is on the news, in the papers, in the hospital, in the morgue…

So, ipso facto,  I must not be crazy.

 So, I sucked it up, dealt with it, walked it off, lived with it, and worked around it, because…
…we didn’t talk about it.

When I was up,  I was really gawddam UP- I was unbeatable. I wasn’t just king of the hill, I was King of The KickAss Mountain.  I got the awards, earned the bonuses, bought the toys…
….But, when I was down, I was REALLY down.

The attendant mood swings were epic and often ugly.  Happiness was rare but anger was constant.  I was mad at everybody, everything, and myself, and I could never quite figure out why.

As time passed the ups became fewer and the mountains more like molehills, while the downs became more frequent and valleys became abysses…
But up or down, it was so. damn. much. WORK.
And that work got harder every year… and then every month…and then every week… and then every day.

Every morning, for over seven thousand mornings, I found a reason to get out of bed, then a reason to get dressed, and then a reason to go to work, and then a reason to work and a reason to…
I got through the day by breaking my day down into a survival to-do list, and I got through it by finding reasons to tick off another list-item, and then another, until I got near the end of my list or the end of my endurance and could fall into bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep….  and I always had to remember to find a reason to be happy. 
Every day.

… and then I started running out of reasons.

And death began to look really, really, attractive.

I was lucky.  I have a wife who loves me in spite of, or maybe because of, my craziness.  
We had The Talk. 
She made The Appointment.  
I got The Prescription

And we get through it every day.
Because we had The Talk.
Life isn’t so damn much work now.  There are still Bad Days, those days when Churchill’s black dogs scratch at the door. 

But there are far far, far more Good Days.

Life is no longer so much damn work.  And being happy is no longer something I have to remember to do.

I’m Brian. 

And I’m crazy. 

And I’m okay with that.

Let’s talk

Friday, 9 January 2015

End of Season NextBoat Review / Boat Show Preview Combo!

       "Pack it up, and tear it down..."
                             -Jackson Browne


     It was time.
     Put a fork in it.

    This season was done, our first full season with NextBoat.*

    She is now on the hard in the yard, bedded down in her new/used cradle for the winter...

... and now that the off-season withdrawal shakes and sweats have begun....

...SWMBO and I can objectively look back and figure out what worked aboard NextBoat, what didn't work, what we can live with, and what we need to change.

  First off, our first season with NextBoat  has demonstrated to us that she is a keeper.


   See, NextBoat was a bit of a surprise for SWMBO- she left all of the decision-making and logistical wrangling in my hands.

  Upside?  The decisions are all MINE.


  Downside? The results are all MINE.


  After our first night aboard, and after a little nesting, NextBoat was SWMBOApproved.

   Our sow's ear, however, still needs some silk pursification:

    The tweedy ceiling and carpeted overhead, while providing a homey, 70s rec-room feel to the accomodations, is looking decidedly worn.

     Replacement is daunting-the whole damn boat is cabin, and the whole damn cabin is covered in this stuff.

     A thorough scrubbing with all of the latest carpet cleaning wonder products and possibly some steaming is the first order on the agenda, which will (fingers crossed) return our cabin to something approaching it's original hirsute splendour.

     If not?

    That is a project for next winter.

    The Escheresque seagull pattern cushions....

.... need rebuilding and recovering.  Interesting note- there are only 6 cushions on the entire boat, one of which has already been rebuilt. This winter, we will rebuild the other five in the same blue sunbrella and 5" foam.

The salon table, seen above,  is one unstable table, Mabel, and is slightly too small.

                                                                                                                       -image courtesy of google

     I am going to enlarge it aft, and tie it into the stripper pole, er, compression post, similar to the shape of the original table, as seen here:

     On deck, the mast step might need a rebuild- the plate needs to be removed and some exploratory surgery performed,  chainplate islands installed to prevent any new leaking, and struts fabbed to allow the fore and aft overhead hatches to be cracked, instead of the current all-or-nothing ventilation situation:

     As you can see above, they are beautiful big hatches, but there's no support- the hatches are either lying flat on the deck closed or flapping back against the house.

    You can create your own beautful big/floppy/flapping/ no support metaphor.  I'm not helping.

   The portlights need to be rescreened and the hazy plastic polished.  The cove stripe needs to be repainted. and the hull could use a good compounding and waxing.

   With the boat out of the water, I am able to eyeball the whole hull, and it all looks good, except for the carbuncle  ahead of the keel ...

...which is a redundant depth transducer.  THAT has to go.

 I also need to re-repair my most embarrassing, sloppy, kludge of a last-minute repair which proved more durable than I expected- the water bottle neck masthead light lens:

   Piss poor preparation and all that-  the mast had to go up NOW, the crew was ready NOW, oh crap, didn't notice that, it needed to be fixed NOW...

   ... and while necessity may be the mother of invention, her kids ain't always pretty.

   The drivetrain is happy, the only minor, low-on-the-punchlist, item is replacing the prop.  The 8 hp Yanmar happily pushes NextBoat along at 5.5 knots at 90% throttle in flat water with her 2 blade prop...
....  but a little more thrust and less vibration from a three blade prop is appealing.

   And the list goes on...

  Which brings us to early January, and brings us to Toronto, to the Toronto Boat Show , our annual midwinter respite.

  We've got some shopping to do, some people to meet, and dammit, it's just good to get away.

    The Westin Harbour Castle offers a silly good rate for the weekend. Seriously, this is the view that $98/night buys us:


  So, that's where we're at, where we're going, what we're doing, and why we're doing it.

   Stick around- this is going to be an interesting year.

"Talk the Dock!"

Thursday, 1 January 2015

New Year Gear and Tool Review: Bonding with Bondic

"Now you oughta make it stick together..."
                                   -Wilbert Harrison

   As you know, Constant Readers, I basically have three modes- building stuff, breaking stuff, and sailing.

   (No, Smartass Reader, "drinking and eating" is NOT a mode.  It is an integral part of the Three Modes.)

   Intrinsic to successful functioning in any mode is the necessity to keep things from falling apart all around, you...

  .... and putting them back together when they inevitably do.

     Thus, I am  always looking for better, faster, easier, stronger ways to build what is needed and fix what is busted.

     Which is why I have an assortment of tubes and vials and bottles of various adhesives, of varying efficacy,  taking up real estate on my workbench and locker space aboard.  By and large, my go-to solution for most bonding jobs is epoxy of some sort, but one challenge with epoxy is that it has a LONG cure time, which makes it unsuitable for quick, clamp-free fixes.  Even quick curing epoxy isn't all that quick.

     Cyanoacrylate, the Krazy Glue-type stuff, IS instant, but that presents it's own brand of problems, because once two objects are stuck together they are stuck, like, NOW.  No repositioning, no time to get your fingers out of the way, or your sleeve, or to remember that you're working on a freshly refinished uncovered table...

     What if there was an epoxy that had the fast cure time of cyanocrylate, but only when you wanted it?

   Enter Bondic.

    The  folks at Bondic describe it as "the world’s FIRST liquid plastic welder."  There's all sorts of super-secret proprietary sciency stuff involved that makes it unique  but basically it is an ultraviolet cured adhesive.  What really makes it unique is how it works.

     The Bondic kit consists of an adhesive cartridge and a 6 volt UV light..... packed in a cigar sized shiny case.

packed in a cigar sized shiny case.


    It's as foolproof as an adhesive can get- clean the objects to be bonded, and sand shiny surfaces- this stuff likes a little "tooth, just like glue....

 apply a bead of Bondic to one surface, by gently squeezing the cartridge, just like glue...

Then, here's where things get different. Shine the UV light on your work for 4-8 seconds...

BOOM!  Cured, like a true believer at a tent revival.

  Because of the fast cure time, Bondic can also be used as an effective filler for small jobs, applied in layers, curing each layer.  Busted the corner of your cell phone case?  Sand,  apply Bondic, cure, sand, apply Bondic, cure, sand, apply Bondic, cure, etc.  as needed.

  Because of the application system and UV light size, Bondic is best for SMALL jobs.

    And not many of them.  This review almost exhausted the cartridge.

    Tensile and shear strength is not Bondic's, er, strong point.  I bonded two scrap pine battens...


Then pulled them apart...  easily.

I then tried again, thinking that a thicker layered "fillet" might be more effective...

... it is...but not much.  The battens still came apart easily.

  Bondic IS waterproof, but, just like epoxy, it is sunlight sensitive- outdoor applications will need to be topcoated

  It's not a great structural fastening adhesive, but it has potential for effective, quick small repairs aboard- broken sunglasses, cracked vhf radio housing,  broken tangs on light lenses,  that sorta stuff.

  Cost?  The kit cost about $20, refill adhesive cartridges are about $12, a replacement UV light about $7.
   Not cheap, but cheaper than a new Otterbox for your iProduct.

Bondic likely won't be the first adhesive you reach for, but it might just be what you try when nothing else will work.

Talk the Dock!

Thursday, 18 December 2014

A Winter's Ponderings

"You'd be well on your way, if you could only set sail..."
                             -Kenny Loggins

Long nights, short days, water too hard to sail in, and an off-season maintenance punchlist with an emphasis on sanding, sanding, more sanding and refinishing leaves me with lots of time to think.

    (I’m not entirely sure this is a good thing- ed.)

     As I sand cockpit grates, cockpit tables and companionway doors preparatory to their semi-annual renewal coat of varnish, and consider new projects that will turn big pieces of wood into smaller pieces of wood and large piles of sawdust,  I find myself pondering: 

    Why do I do this, this varnishing thing? 

    Why don’t I use that newfangled synthetic, fast-drying, easy to apply, orangey-looking stuff that so many sailors swear by, that requires only two coats, and a lot less sanding?   It would take so much less time, and it works almost as well, and it looks almost the same and… 

…and it ain’t right.

    As I was laying down the finish coat, watching the varnish bring the grain to life, I realized that there is something zen about varnish.  The smell, the feel , the magic as it goes on, the connection to dozens of generations of boatkeepers who have gone before ,  doing the same off-season refinishing job, and likely asking themselves “Why?”

  Varnish is about keeping the fire.

  To me, that is a big part of the appeal of sailing:
  We're keeping the fire.

   But that fire grows a little dimmer, every year.

    Here’s what I mean:

    For millennia, sailing vessels were constructed of wood, with sails and lines of natural fibre, caulked and sealed with vile tarrish concoctions boiled over a fire from ingredients fit for neither man nor beast.  Legend says that any brew too thin to seal wooden boats was re-marketed to the pub trade under the brand name Guinness, and any goop too thick to caulk a hull was jarred and sold as Marmite.

(Hey, watch it! I like Marmite! – ed.)

    For centuries the traditions were handed down, from wright to wright and boatswain to boatswain, and while there was advancement in design, materials and construction methods stayed pretty much the same.    A 15th century boatbuilder would have gotten along pretty well in an early 20th century boatyard, since the tools and techniques hadn’t changed much. 

    Aboard, the same pattern held true.  Lanterns and lamps dimly lit the way for centuries, flags were the only option for communication beyond range of voice and navigation was an arcane art of sun shots and celestial scrutiny.

       The fire was kept, the torch passed, from one generation to the next.

      Then, in a span of less than five decades, the world of small boats saw more technological advancement than had been seen in the entirety of the past five millennia.
   Within the last half of the 20th century, fiberglass had virtually replaced wood as the material of choice for production boat building.  Aluminum had virtually replaced wood for construction of spars, electric lighting had virtually replaced lanterns and lamps, radio had virtually replaced signal flags and Loran, and then chartplotters, virtually replaced the sextant and dead reckoning.

    The  great naval architect L. Francis Herreshoff might have denigrated fiberglass as “frozen snot,” …but it turned out to be very successful snot indeed.

    Thanks to snot, boats could be built faster, with less skilled labour, requiring less maintenance.
    The upside was that sailing became a more accessible option for the everyman. 

    The downside was that the fire dimmed.

    Skills that had been passed down for generations, from sailor to sailor, became, first, quaint,…

   … and then forgotten.

    Quick, how many of us carry a full complement of signal flags aboard?  How many of us have caulking irons and mallets in our tool bags?

     How many of us know what caulking irons are?

     Now, don’t get me wrong- I love the reduced maintenance and longer lifespan of fiberglass hulls and alloy spars and synthetic sails, and I think my radio and chartplotter are wonderful tools to have aboard.  I appreciate that I DON’T have to keep caulking irons and mallets in my toolbag…

     … however, I draw the line at slathering the wood on my craft with some synthetic that is cheaper, and easier, and faster and almost the same, if you squint.

          See, I figure there is magic in boat work, a purity of process, an adventure of design and construction that envelopes the senses- the sound of the saw, the sight of brightwork glistening, the smell of varnish... it is poetry.

       Or maybe it’s just fumes.

       Whatever it is, it ain’t much, but I’m keeping the flame, as best I can.

"Talk the Dock!"

Friday, 12 December 2014

We ROCK! and We Rock the Liebster!!

"Havin' fun!"

I've been saving this momentous post for a momentous occasion.

"What makes this post momentous, and why now?"  Faithful Reader asks.

Because this is the 300th Dock Six Chronicle.

As of December 10th, our (mis)adventures have had more than 200 000 views.

*insert polite applause here.*

Thanks to all of you who take the time to give us a read.

And, most momentously, our friends Dan and Jaye, the pirates behind the  Life Afloat blog, flattered the D6C by honouring us with a Liebster Award nomination.

The Award, alas, comes with no cash prize, no trophy, but it DOES come with the warm fuzzy feeling that at least one fellow scribbler thinks your scribbles are worth reading.

Dan and Jaye explain the Liebster Award:

"So here's what it is about:  bloggers recognizing other bloggers.  The Liebster Award is a project that promotes the discovery of new blogs.  If you're selected for the "award", you must answer some questions given to you by the blog that selected you, and then also choose other blogs for the award and give them some questions to answer. "

Right, then.

So, here's our Q and A....

What got you started on boats/sailing/cruising?
   I hated golf.

    I’m not kidding!  My hatred of golf at the age of 9 led me to become the sailor that I am today.

       Before I became an eccentric adult, I was a weird kid-  I was hard to motivate, had, and needed, few friends, was happy to sit and read all day. The arrival of summer vacation caused my parents no little frustration,  as i had no desire to do anything except nothing, which, clearly, was not an option, apparently.

      My parents were, and still are, avid golfers.  When summer vacation arrived, my parents signed me up for “golf camp” at the club, aka “daycare for avid golfers.”

     I hated it.  

     I did discover, however, that I could eat all I wanted in the clubhouse... for free.  All I had to do was sign the bill with my parents’  membership number!  WIN!  So, mom and/or dad would drop me off, I’d slump toward the first tee, and as soon as I could, I beelined for the clubhouse and had my first burger or hot dog of the day.  I quickly got caught, however,  and my parents, smart and empathetic enough to realize that the  links life was not for me, asked me how I would prefer to fill my summer. 

     Me? I’m 9!  I don’t want to do anything!

     The ‘rents made it clear I had to do something, and started rhyming off  pastime possibilities- Daycamp?  No. Arts camp? No.  Sailing school?  No.  Wait.  Maybe.  I’ll try it.
 So, Monday morning, we head down the road to the local sailing club, and Mom signs me up for two weeks, and in short order I step aboard one of the school’s Alcan Petrel dinghies and...

....I was hooked.  Instantly and forever.  

    Realizing I was finally onboard with SOMETHING, my parents got onboard as well.  A cheque was quickly written for the rest of the summer sessions, and the following spring I took proud possession of a Mirror dinghy, and by the time i was 12 had worked through all of the CYA White Sail, Bronze Sail and Silver Sail requirements.

  Then, I discovered girls, and motorcycles, and cars and engines, and didn’t sail a boat for over 25 years.

   Flash forward to 2008.  SWMBO, descended from Viking stock,  from an avid boating family, the daughter of a boating magazine editor, had never sailed...

    ... Until she attended a corporate retreat in San Diego in March of that year.  One of the team building exercises was a dinghy regatta on Mission Bay.  SWMBO loved it!  She fired me an enthusiastic email, and opined that acquiring a sailboat would not be a horrible idea.  I had a solid employment bonus coming at the end of the quarter, so by the time SWMBO got off the plane from California, I had lined up a half dozen boats ofr us to tour over the next week.  By the end of April, we took stewardship of a Georgian 23 Whiskeyjack-  Six season later, we acquired NextBoat, our  soon to be renamed S2 8.0C.  The rest is modern  history, chronicled in the Chronicles.

What was your life like, pre-boat?  What did you do for recreation?

Pre-boat, I wrote a little, did the occasional home improvement project at Stately Jones Manor, restored old Volkswagens and motorcycles, drank beer.   Boats and boatbuilding replaced the VWs and motorcycles, until recently, kinda.  I have acquired a small collection of vintage mopeds which have kinda brought me partly back around to my wheeled transportation mania.  Why mopeds?  Great question.  More on that in later editions of the Chronicles.

What's the most unlikely thing you currently have aboard?

     One thing about summering aboard a smallish boat that is relatively new (to us), is that we try to keep our payload aboard fairly stripped down.  The most unlikely thing aboard?  The liftgate  net from a 1997 Ford Aerostar, which makes a decent low-buck gear hammock.

    Tell us about your first night at anchor.

     Confession time- it was actually this season.  While we are seasonal liveaboards, we largely day sail.

     (Insert horrified gasps here)

      Due to work obligations, in the past we simply haven’t had the schedule flexibility to cruise extensively.  This season we decided to simply sail across the bay and anchor out at the end of Long Point. 
     The night was largely uneventful.  

     The morning after- not so much. 

      It was a relatively short passage, and the anchorage, as always, was pleasant and attractive.  There was the typical Lake Erie square 2-4’ chop, not uncomfortable with enough scope, but  a little unpredictable.  It took a while before I stopped obsessing over the depth finder and chart plotter, and shoresighting to ensure we weren’t dragging.  We swam, explored the beach,  ate a wonderful dinner (as dinners always are aboard) saluted the sunset with tumblers of rum-based beverages, read and retired.  SWMBO and I lay in the aft cabin admiring the stars through the overhead hatch, drowsing to the sound of the breeze in the standing rigging, and attempting to ignore the random *ting* of the shackle on the small Danforth hanging on the sternrail.

     About oh dark thirty, the rolling stopped.  The absence of motion roused me from my slumber and I climbed into the cockpit.   

    The wind had clocked halfway around, and the anchorage was now baby’s- bottom smooth.   We hadn’t dragged, (good)  but the sky was becoming overcast to the west (not so good).  I made the decision to relax in the cockpit and watch the dawn.    I took in a reef on our main, figuring we might need it come morning. 

    We did. 
   Dawn broke beautifully in the east, but dark skies and heavy wind gusts from the west weren’t bringing good news.   I made the decision to rouse SWMBO and we opted for a hasty departure.  

   Then things got interesting. More later.

If money were no object, what addition/change would you make to your present boat?

   SWMBO and I are lucky- we are satisfied with a simple “low wake” life aboard, and have been lucky enough to have hit the boat ownership lottery with NextBoat- there is very little that we feel a desperate need to change, or  a want for gear  which would be hugely expensive to either fix, modify or add.  One chore on the winter refit list is to add a larger holding tank and rework the head layout to make it more usable. An autopilot and diesel heater may be on the 2015 installation list- more detail later, as it happens.

Aside from finances (we all have that issue), how has boat life changed you?

     It has taught us new skills and refined skills we already had.   Our small life has brought SWMBO and I closer together, and at the same time made us more independent. 

Most bloggers have a story about someone they met through their blog, or an amusing connection or opportunity that happened because of their blogging ... what's yours?

I have met some interesting people and created some great friendships through my scribblings, and the wonderful band of fellow reprobates who read it.  Last season SWMBO and I tied up on the pier for Friday the 13th,  and soon the pier , and the town, were packed with upwards of 100 000 people.  Throughout the day we had been trading nods and waves with  the hordes of folks  walking along the pier, and late in the morning one couple walks past the boat , dude does a doubletake,  stops and says , “Hey,  you’re Dock Six!  I recognize half your face!  We just bought a boat!’  We talk a little and they move on.  Flash forward to early November:  NextBoat is on the hard in the Bridge Yards yard, and SWMBO and I take a Sunday afternoon to offload gear and winterize.  We step into the cockpit and I look over to the boat beside us, Where another couple is also doing last minute boatwork, and this time it is my turn to do a double take- it is the same couple we met on Friday the 13th.

Give us a link to your most popular blog post.

And to one that you think deserves a wider audience.

and now, here's our call out:

and last but never least, Wally at LiveBloggin' the ICW

Here's your interview questions:

What cruising destinations are on your sailing bucket list?

What piece of gear onboard did you purchase in the belief it would be essential, yet has hardly been used?

What was your longest passage?

What has been your scariest, "I'm gonna die!"  moment?

What tools do you keep aboard?

What has been your most satisfying sailing accomplishment?

How has your sailing life changed you?

Are you sailing your perfect boat?  if not, what would you change?

Link your most popular blog post.

Link your personal favourite blog post.

Thanks again, for taking time to spend some time with us, down here on the Dock.

and remember,
"Talk the Dock!"

Monday, 24 November 2014

Up The River, But Not Up The Creek, Part One

" the face of a hurricane west wind..."
                                  -Gordon Lightfoot

  This time last week, the temperature was below freezing, and the first snow of the season was flying.

   Today, the snow is gone and the temp is positively balmy, but we are getting slammed by a meteorological freight train that hasn't slowed down since it left Kansas.  Steady 40-50 knot winds hurt your face.

   Here's how the Lake looked this afternoon:

     Steady 40-50 knot winds hurt your face.

   So, I figured this a good time to revisit a more placid day in Port Dover.

   It's mid-September, and the weather is well and truly balmy,  not too hot, not too cold, not too humid, not too dry, a little underwindy, but oh, well... one of those late summer/early fall days that are too good and too rare to waste.

   SWMBO and I decided to put it to use by making a Quack run up the River, seeing what we could see.

  Th is is hardly the Canadian equivalent of a Joseph Conrad/ Coppolian saga- the Lynn River is the tributary that inconveniently divides Port Dover...

                                                                                         -image courtesy of

..... it is also the source of some small controversy.  As you can see on the map above, the Lynn flows from Northwest to South, through the town of Simcoe, then into the town of Port Dover, where it meets Black Creek, flowing Northeast to South, and then discharges into Long Point Bay.

      The controversy arises below the Y- is the waterway south of the confluence the  Lynn River, or Black Creek?  Some refer to this stretch as "the creek", others as "the river", others, noting that aforementioned body of water has been dredged, widened, straightened and breakwalled, refer to it as "the channel."

       Personally, I figure a creek can flow into a river, yet a river cannot flow into a creek, just as a town can grow into a city, but a city cannot grow into a town...ergo, it is the Lynn River which empties into the Bay, not the Black Creek.

      (Not that anybody really gives a shit. -ed.)

      Er, anywater, we had been up the River and up the Creek dozens of times, always aboard the mothership, but had never turned left and taken the Lynn less travelled, as it were.  Concerns over the uncertainty of draft, airdraft and general  there-are-never-any-sailboats-there-so-sailboats-must-not-be-able-to-go-there logic led us to mark the upper Lower Lynn with "here there be dragons" on our mental chart.

     But, not wishing to leave any local waters unexplored,  we decided to take an hour or so and make a Quack attack.

    We tied up NextBoat opposite the old Misener fish plant, clambered into Quack, our 7 foot long inflatable, cranked up our trusty Suzuki O/B, bid our floating condo adieu...

...and headed upstream.

   We putted past the Port Dover Harbour Museum...

  ... past the new dinghy dock, snapping pics of the intriguing boat tied up...

lifeboat/tender/pilot boat from a freighter?

 ( Please comment if you have any info.)

     ...then under the lift bridge and past the Scruton fleet...

... then past the Bridge Yachts yard, and then past Dave Matthews yard,  into the heart of tug town...

   I admit, I am a sucker for tugs...

    and who doesn't like a beautiful woody?

  ...  get your minds out of the gutter.

   We pass the Nadro Marine yard...

... bear to port and head up the Lynn, into the elephant's graveyard of the Harry Gamble shipyard.

  Meanwhile, to starboard...

The juxtaposition between banks is almost jarring.

   and back to our port side...


 and then things start to get ...interesting.

     The Gamble yard is acres of old tugs, barges, lifeboats, pleasure craft, engines, winches and rust, covered with an increasingly impenetrable cover of foliage.

      It's intriguing as hell.

We spotted this inlet....

...before we noticed the cottage beside it


Of course we had to steer in, to see what we could see...

      As our outboard began to bounce along the bottom, I realized how silted up this basin had become.  That tug  is never leaving again.

      We retreated back to the Lynn and continued upstream.

  More to come later this week.


"Talk the Dock!"