Lonely, Dirty Girls

We finally were able to do some sailing over the weekend. Met up with some friends we had not seen in a while and took them sailing also. It is always good just to get out on the lake for awhile.

Our boat has been in Mandeville since February, and we have sailed 5 or more times since then. However, we had never seen anyone else on our pier until Saturday. On that day, two of the other boat owners were showing their boats to potential buyers. One was giving his boat a much needed washing.

Before Saturday, we had seen no evidence that any of the other boats had moved for months. Several do not even have their masts stepped. All of them look dirty.

At Pass Christian and Long Beach, we saw a lot more activity. Nevertheless, there were a lot of neglected boats. They just sat in the slip.

It seems like a lot of people have sailboats, but fairly few really sail them. Wonder why that is?

A Sailor’s Farewell

While taking inventory of all the “extras” on board, I ran across the name of Roger Burford, Bliss’ first owner. Wanting to know more about her, I contacted Dr. Burford with the help of Google. He emailed me back immediately.

Dr. Burford, a retired Q.B.A. professor from L.S.U.,purchased Bliss new. He had kept her moored on Bayou Castine for thirty (30) years or so. He was a wealth of information and advice. Over the past year, we traded many emails and one long phone call.

It was more than evident that the day he sold her was a very sad day for him. He spoke fondly of sailing with his son and granddaughter.

He emailed me a magazine article reviewing the Helms 24 Dolphin.



The boat reviewed in the article, it turns out, is hull no. 330, our very own Bliss.



Each time we corresponded, I offered to crew for him. I really wanted him to sail with me. That was not to be.

I sent email twice in the last few months, but they went unanswered. I heard from him last on February 1, 2010. He acknowledged receiving the link to this blog. Here is what he said:

"Thank you. I appreciate your sending me this. It reminds me very much of some of my trips from Mandeville to Pass Christian and the rest of the Mississippi Gulf Coast and back. When I bought Bliss back in 1978 it was love at first sight, and the love never faded. . . . The reason I sold her was that my health took a turn for the worse and I couldn’t spend the time with her that I did previously. I couldn’t stand to see her just sit there and deteriorate . . . . I was disappointed that I never heard from the person who bought her from me, but you have more than made up for that."

Dr. Burford died March 17, 2010. His obituary said that “[h]e loved to sail and tell sailing tales.”

To Dr. Burford, I offer a sailor’s farewell: "Fair winds and a following sea and long may your big jib draw!"

Vendredi Gras

We planned for me to go to Mandeville to ready the boat on Friday, then sail it to New Orleans on Saturday. Principessa and Matthew were to meet me in New Orleans on Saturday.

But we got a surprise. Snow in Shreveport, and schools were closed.



So Principessa and Matthew rode down with me. They went to a hotel, and I fixed the door to the head, the vent on the holding tank, and a couple of other things.

Samedi Gras

Saturday morning was brisk and beautiful. Slipped the moorings at about 9 am, then sailed solo from Bayou Castine in Mandeville to Southshore Harbor Marina in New Orleans, about 20 miles. First time I had sailed Bliss solo.

Winds were light, so motorsailing was the best option. Made about 4 kts, arriving about 2 pm. Principessa and Matthew drove across the Causeway and were waiting when I got there.



Secured the boat then tried to make our way to Orleans Avenue to meet Don & Angela and Steve & Regina and their kids. The roads were already blocked, and we were hungry. We went over to Oak Street and picked up barbecue at a place called Squeal.

Meandered around New Orleans until we found open roads to get us close to the parade. Met up with our friends just as Endymion had started to roll by, and Matthew got his first taste of “real” Mardi Gras.

Principessa shot some video of a float and her finger:





Went back to the boat for a good night’s rest.

Dimanche Gras

Slept in. Awakened by sunshine gleaming through the companionway. Stuck my head out to see brown pelicans, seagulls, a view of the harbor and Lake Ponchartrain, and perfect weather. It’s gonna be a great day!

Went to mass at St. Maria Goretti in New Orleans East. The area is slow to rebuild from Katrina, but the Parish was lively and friendly. Despite what Republicans would have us believe, New Orleanians are survivors. The parishioners are energetic, friendly, and committed to their parish church .

All of this in the midst of boarded-up businesses and neglected public facilities. These folks have pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and without a lot of help from government. They enthusiastically rebuild despite the blight around them.

Slowly meandered Uptown. Tried to get to Magazine Street, but mostly sat in traffic. Arrghh! We finally parked in the Garden District and walked to Magazine. Saw Thoth on the way.

Principessa has been wanting to go to Sucre, a patisserie. Matthew and I brought her there for her Valentines day treat, French macaroons. The macaroons were okay, but Matthew’s Sour Cherry Champagne Sorbet was exquisite.

Magazine Street is a wonderful place. We could spend days just wandering around.

Watched Bacchus in the Garden District. The people around us were extremely nice. New Orleans was absolutely ebullient this Carnival season. Here's a video and a picture:





Went back to the harbor just in time for the weather to change. Winds were quite gusty, and we rocked and rolled all night long. Principessa said the wind in the boats’ rigging sounded like a hurricane, and her sleep was restless.

Lundi Gras

All good things must come to an end. Time to go back to Shreveport, but Bliss must be sailed to her home port.

Winds were out of the Northwest and gusting to 25 or 30 knots. I had never one-handed the boat in that sort of weather, but today was as good a day as any to see what it was like.

Suffice it to say that the trip was exhilarating. I close-hauled Bliss and pinched the wind. The clinometer showed 30 degrees of heal, sometimes more. Averaged between 5 and 6 knots. Lots of waves and whitecaps. Got splashed many times. Below is a picture of the New Orleans skyline about 14 miles off the stern.



All went well until time to take the sails down. That’s a story for “Lessons Learned the Hard Way.”

Brought Bliss back to her moorings. Principessa and Matthew awaited, albeit impatiently. Headed back to Shreveport.

What an experience!

Me and Otto Are Sailing to Mardi Gras

Above is a picture of Otto, perhaps the most valuable member of S/V Bliss's crew. He certainly complains less than the rest of the crew.

Otto and I will sail "solo" across Lake Ponchartrain from Mandeville, and Tish and Matthew will meet us on the south shore. Megan said she would stop by, but we don't know whether William's baseball schedule will allow a trip to carnival.

Seems like the weather will cooperate, so I reserved a slip at Southshore Harbor Marina, right next to the Lakefront Airport. The plan is to leave Bayou Castine with the chickens on Saturday morning. We should arrive in plenty of time to watch Endymion somewhere in Mid-City.

Then, we can watch the Sunday parades, including Bacchus. Then, we'll have to make a couple of tacks to sail upwind to Bayou Castine on Monday.

It ought to be FUN!

Lesson No. 2 Learned the Hard Way

Lesson: When you use the winches, only wrap the line around it two or three times, then pull the end of the rope to tighten. Otherwise, your line will foul.

Price of the Lesson: A new main halyard, or about $90.00. It also cost William a trip up the mast. And it blew any chance I may have had for father of the year in 2009.

How I Learned It: After our rough start the first time out, we had a decent time sailing. Then we headed in.

I lowered and doused the Genoa uneventfully, then I went to the mast to lower the main. Unfortunately, the main halyard was fouled. After fighting it for about a half hour, sailing back and forth with Principessa at the helm, narrowly avoiding a collision with a 50 or so foot sportfisherman, I gave up. The halyard was not coming down.

So I did the only thing I knew to do. I took out the rigging knife and cut the halyard. The sail dropped into the lazyjacks, and we motored to the slip.

Now here's the problem. When you cut the halyard off and the sail drops, the end of the halyard likewise goes up about 25 feet above the deck.

How do we get the end of the halyard to pull it down? Well, we get a rock climbing harness, put it on our oldest son, and haul him up the mast using the jib halyard. Like this:

Lesson No. 1 Learned the Hard Way

I have a lot of these. I am putting them on the blog at the risk of looking very, very dumb. Nevertheless, exposing my bonehead mistakes is about all I have to offer to the art of sailing at the moment.

Lesson 1: When you buy a new boat, have the seller explain in detail how to rig the boat. Take an inventory of everything on the boat. If you don't know what something is or how it works, ask.

Price for learning it: Aggravation and wounded ego.

How I learned it: I was so confident that Bliss was a great deal that we bought her without ever having sailed her. The seller offered to take me for a sail and show me how everything works. I called him when I was ready to sail the boat, but I couldn't get him on the phone. So we struck out on our own on the Mississippi Sound.

The water was fairly rough, and winds were 10-15 knots. I motored out past the last buoys, pointed the boat into the wind, and told Principessa to hold her on that heading.

I did not even have the headsail out of the bag, and I was trying to hank on the headsail in a heavy chop. Tish and Matthew were excited because a pod of dolphins was swimming around us.

When I looked up the first time, I was looking out to sea. Then, I was looking at the harbor. Then out to see. Then looking at the harbor. Yup, we were going around in circles, not holding the heading. Every time the bow passed through the wind, I was getting clobbered by a fluttering sail. And I was getting tossed about rather nicely on the bow.

To those in the harbor, we must have looked like complete idiots. I know I felt like one.

When I finally hauled the foresail up, I had not properly routed the jib sheet through the shrouds. The good news is that we were at least sailing on the foresail by that time. I was able to re-route the downwind sheet, tack, then re-route the other.

Raising the main was even more difficult. The slugs upon which the mainsail slides up the mast would not slide for love nor money. I had not figured out how to use the autopilot, so Principessa was weaving here, there and yonder. I was again getting clobbered by a fluttering sail each time we changed course.

By this time, all that I learned from my Dale Carnegie course was out the window. I was not being very nice to Principessa.

One of the old salts at the harbor later told me to get some silicone dry lube and spray the slugs before I leave. That would have helped.

Now, I hank on the foresail, attach the halyard, thread the jib sheets, and route the halyard back to the cockpit (I don't even think my previous owner knew that he could do this) before we cast off.

The upside: Some of the other sailors on our pier took pity on us. They offered us some pointers and encouragement.

B.O.A.T.

Supposedly, "Boat" is an acronym for "break out another thousand." So far, we haven't spent too many thousands. A lot of "hundreds," though. And a couple of thousand on the horizon.

For us, "Boat" stands for "break our @$$ trying." So far, we have been painters, electricians, plumbers, carpenters, and mechanics, not to mention sailors. For every hour we have sailed, there have been several more spent on maintenance and repairs.

Putzing around on the boat can actually be rewarding. After spending our work days doing endless paperwork, it is refreshing to look at a tangible finished product. But doing tedious work, working in cramped spaces, and looking at a seemingly never-ending task list can get aggravating. Especially in the hottest part of the summer.

Right now, here is my todo list:

Cheap fixes:

1. Reattach the door inside the cabin.

2. Replace a broken guide so I can raise the main from the cockpit.

3. Fix the lazyjacks.

4. Redo much of the DC wiring. The salt water has corroded a lot of it. Also, there has been a lot of splicing on over the years. And we need some conduit. Some of the wires run through storage compartments and are subject to damage.

5. Replace the cracked fitting to the vent on the waste tank (move this to No. 1)

6. Wash the sails

7. Replace the shackles on the main at the battens with cloth fasteners so the main won't "hang up."

8. Put on bow lettering.

9. Re-register in LA and place that lettering on bow.

10. Buy a sailcover for the foresail so we can store it on deck.

11. Carefully inspect the shore power wiring and connections to make sure the saltwater hasn't corroded them.

12. Stain the brightwork again. Alternatively, I am considering replacing the railing with brushed aluminum. Tired of staining, and we can always put the teak railing back on if we decide to.

The expensive stuff:

1. Have the boat hauled out and have the bottom sanded, faired (?), and painted. Ouch!

2. Paint the deck, cockpit, and cabin top (what a pain in the butt!)or have it painted.

3. Fix the tear in the mainsail or replace the main. Haven't figured that one out yet.

Wish list:

Paint the hull above the water line.

I have probably forgotten a few things. This list is daunting.

Pass Christian to Slidell

Moved Bliss on January 18 and 19. Of course, there were no winds whatsoever on the 18th, our 42 nm leg. Forecast called for winds at 5-10 from the East. No such luck. We put-putted WSW on the 9.9 hp Evinrude. Passed near St. Stanislaus and Our Lady of the Gulf.




After 3 or 4 hours, we approached Clermont Harbor and Silver Slipper Casino. Turned SSW for the GIWW. Still no wind.




GIWW marked "point of no return." If we went much further, we'd be committing to Slidell. There are possible anchorages but no services between the GIWW and Slidell.

42 miles on a 9.9 hp motor pushing a 5,000 or so lb boat seems insane. The makings of a coonass or a redneck joke. One of each on board.

Plenty of food. Places to anchor. A more favorable wind the following day (supposedly). Our best guess-- we have enough gas. If it looks like we're going to run out, we'll anchor and wait for wind. Work schedules flexible, so we can take another day off if need be. Not as much beer as we would like, but conditions tolerable. Go for it!

Dodged the rag-tag navy of oyster boats working out of Pass Christian and then Clermont Harbor. It was fun to watch them work. One thing for sure-- they weren't watching us. Not to worry. Just alter course when they come close. Note to self: find some oysters on the half shell and a beer asap. All those burlap sacks of oysters making me hungry.




Half way through the GIWW to the Rigolets. Still no wind. Put-putting at about 4-4.5 knots. Getting impatient. Twist the throttle. 5.5 knots. Bully!

Waited 1/2 hour for the operator to swing the CSX railroad bridge at the Rigolets. Radioed the operator, and he told us he'd swing as soon as the train passed. Kept calling me "Captain" on the radio. Very cool to be the one they open the bridge for instead of the one waiting on it.



Half way through the Rigolets-- check fuel. Uh oh. We're running out. The price of being impatient?

Called a friend who had lived in the area. He wasn't sure but said to check the marina at Geoghan Bayou. Said they had fuel before Katrina and that they had opened after. Said there was enough water for my 4' keel. He wasn't sure about their status after Katrina, though.

Went into Geoghan Bayou. No gas at the marina. Marina had moved off the canal into a smaller canal. Ran aground. Used a lot of gas getting unstuck. Damn!

Still no wind-- like riding in a bathtub. 1-1/2 hours or so left. Cut back the power to 4 knots and cruised into Lake Ponchartrain, then to Oak Harbor Marina at Slidell on fumes. Moored, took a cab to get dinner, and went to sleep. Found a beer, but no oysters.

This was one of those days I'll remember forever. I had never done anything like this before.

Bliss is Back Home

Got up the next morning ready to make the 20 or so nm leg from Slidell to Mandeville. A bit more wind, but not much.

We needed gas, but the marina had none. They suggested we go one mile up the road to a gas station. Not having a car, Joe and I each carried a gas can and hoofed it. The good people of Slidell passed us without offering assistance.

An immigrant laborer offered us a ride in the back of his truck. We gladly accepted. He waited for us and drove us back. Would not accept money. He said, "you have a boat, I have a car. Next time I need a boat, you help me." He and his truck and his power washer went off to work.

I am not interested in hearing anyone complaining of illegals. Even if he were an illegal, he was a good samaritan. God bless him!

Got assistance at the dock from a very nice guy. He and his wife just got back from a 3 year Caribbean cruise. They are selling their boat and looking for jobs. Check out their website.



Pulled out of the slip, and the motor promptly conked out. Problem: a cut in the fuel line. We fixed it (well, it was mostly Joe) and were off to the races.

Passed through a bascule bridge at Hwy 11 and motorsailed to Bayou Castine.




What a relief to see the Ponchartrain Yacht Club and the approach to Bayou Castine in the distance.



Went to the harbor, tied up, and headed back to North Louisiana after having dinner in BR.

Bliss is back in Bayou Castine, where she spent the first 29 or so years of her life.

In Over Our Head

Having a boat on the Gulf Coast sounds wonderful, and it is. Sailing with the family,








overnighting at Ship Island,



sailing open water, albeit brown, not blue,



Enjoying views only to be seen from the water.



But there is a down side. The picture of Bliss on the blog intro is actually an excerpt from a news story WLOX did when whatever the name of the October hurricane hit the Gulf Coast.

Since when do hurricanes hit in October?

Anyhow, the "hurricane" was only a tropical storm when it hit Pass Christian. Nevertheless, the Pass Christian Harbormaster declared a mandatory evacuation. His minions informed me at about 9pm that I had to move my boat by noon the next day. Problem: I was 6 hours away and had some pressing matters at work the next day.

I asked the Harbormaster why his harbor couldn't accommodate our boat in weather that wasn't forecasted to be all that extraordinary. He wasn't keen on offering explanations and told me I'd lose my slip if I didn't move the boat.

That incited a heated discussion with the officious Harbormaster. He threatened to sue me if my boat did his precious harbor any damage. I then spewed vitriol about the keystone cop Harbor Patrol and the sorry level of care the harbor and its tenants received--fodder for another blog. Dale Carnegie be damned!

A lot of burly shrimpers and oystermen probably echoed my sentiments because the mandatory evacuation was lifted. The good Harbormaster didn't bother to inform me, though. Fancy that.

After all that, though, we decided to move Bliss back where she had been moored for 30 or so years-- on Bayou Castine near Lake Ponchartrain.

I've checked the wind, plotted the course, and entered waypoints on the GPS. The plan is to ready the boat today, sail to Slidell on Monday, and sail to Bayou Castine on Tuesday.

The trip through Lake Borgne looks isolated, but there will probably be traffic through the GIWW. The trip through the rigolets may require some motoring, but we shall see.

Winds are a bit lighter than I would like, but at least they're on a east heading.

Where to Begin?

We have now sailed Bliss, a 1978 Model 24' Helms "pocket cruiser," for about six months.

We took delivery on June 27, 2010 at Long Beach Harbor. Her last owner, a young Seabee from the Midwest, kept her for only six months or so before he was deployed to Guam. With his deployment and the active part of the hurricane season drawing near, he lowered her price steeply.

Having sailed small dinghys and catamarans as a youngster, I had often toyed with owning a sailboat. When one of my friends from high school died of a heart attack at age 46, I reevaluated the time frame.

When I began my research, the 24' Helms interested me. Heavily ballasted for her size and having a 4' fixed keel, the model seemed quite capable for any weather I would ever voluntarily encounter. For a 24-footer, she looked as close to a bluewater boat as I could imagine.

The Helms 24 also has the largest cabin I have seen on a 24 footer. It supposedly sleeps 5, but four is more realistic. Four very friendly people, that is.



Nevertheless, I started looking at Catalinas and other swing keel models. These are trailerable and more manageable in Gulf-area waters. Shoals, oyster beds, and underwater obstacles from years of big oil neglect dictate much caution when sailing these parts.

But when I saw Bliss advertised for such a bargain price, I had to look. I couldn't even buy a travel trailer that would sleep 4 for the asking price. Joe, a long-time friend, wanted to go in halves on a boat. He liked the sound of this one also, so we drove down to see her.

When I saw her at Long Beach Harbor, it was love at first sight. Not only had she been meticulously cared for, she was equipped to the nines. Everything you would need to cruise, sail in foul weather, get out of a jam, and maintain her was already on board, included in the price.

We settled up and took delivery. The adventure begins.