Where is the Far Reach?

[Jim Walsh]

Once again, great pictures John. Why did you decide to paint your teak dorade boxes?l

[John Stone]

Thanks Jim. I am glad you liked the pictures.

The short version--very poor varnish adhesion.

The long version--A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away . . . Ok, so it only seems like that long ago now. Anyway, when I was deep in the rebuild it was finally time to address the dorade boxes. The original boxes were beat to hell. I should have replaced them right then with new built ones. But I thought I could patch them up easily enough (my wood supplier was also out of teak at the time) and replace them some other time. They are not structural and are not difficult to build so I reasoned I should just keep moving forward. I had to drill a number of new fastener holes to hold the boxes together and actually installed a few graving pieces too. I used epoxy with some teak wood flour to fill in a few gaps, etc. it was a real patch up job. They looked pretty good though at the time. I never wanted to varnish them. But because of the epoxy I felt that it was the best course of action. So I varnished them. However, for whatever reason I could not get a reliable finish. I was getting some lifting and water intrusion which was discoloring the teak under the varnish. It was actually pretty weird. The dorades also take a real beating too. I felt they should have been left bare. And I wanted to install a lexan or acrylic top instead of one made out of teak. So, I kind of trapped myself. I thought about it for a long time and finally decided this is just ridiculous. I sanded them smooth the other day leaving the old varnish on and painted them with three coats of Brightside, same paint I use on the bulwarks. Easy to touch up. I do intend to build new boxes though and with easily removable lids.

[John Stone]

A couple days ago I completed the installation of the halyard diverter.

The day before the installation, I pulled both jib halyards out of the mast replacing them with messenger lines. I did not want the halyards to get covered with metal shaving from the drilling at the top of the mast.

The next morning I got an early start and went up the mast to install the part and the headstay was in the way of the drill--couldn't fit the drill between mast and headstay. I should have seen that earlier but I just looked right past it. Anyway, I hauled up a spectra cores line and tied it to the spinnaker bail then went down the mast and slacked the headstay and back stay and bob stay. Secure a block and tackle to the the spectra line and hauled it tight. Went back up the mast and removed the headstay at the tang and lowered it a couple feet on a line and tied it off to the top of the cap shroud. Then installed the part. I used some double sided carpet tape to hold the part in place, drilled and tapped five holes which did not take long--maybe 20-25 minutes, ran the fasters home with tef-gel, and "Bob's your uncle." The part lined up perfectly.

Robert Quates built a beautiful part and sent me a very thoughtful and complete installation "package." Even a cave-man could have installed it as the saying goes or perhaps I should say even a "Grunt" could install it. He is a hell of an engineer, craftsman, and a great friend.

Sitting in the climbing seat I had the hammer and drilled tied on with lanyards, as I always do when working aloft. But, somehow, unbeknownst to me, the damn drill lanyard came untied. Of course, the drill fell all the way to the deck. I watched it go down with a slow spin to the right--"oh shi#! It's going to land in the water!" But no, the wind was so strong it landed 10'-12' aft of the mast on its side between the primary winch and the bulwark, about a 12" wide space! I watched it bounce up in the air about a foot and a half--"Crap, it's going to go up and over the bulwark and then go into the water. But wait . . . No!" It settled back down where it first landed. Did not break the drill. Did not even break the bit still in the chuck. Did not damage the deck. A 45' fall in a 20 knot wind onto a fiberglass deck. Unbelievable.

I reattached the head stay. Went back down to the deck. Tied the halyard on the messenger lines I installed the day before. Went back up the mast. Greg from the SV So What, was my helper, and pulled the halyards up through the mast. As they exited the sheaves I untied them from the messengers, fed them through the fairleads, retied the messengers to the halyards and Greg pulled them down to the deck and tied them off.

Went back down the mast and retightened the headstay, backstay, bobstay. I forgot to take a picture. Went back up mast and took a picture for Robert.

Since I had the climbing gear out I went straight to work on the port lowered spreader. It was about 2" lower at the tip then the starboard spreader. Had to make three or four trips up and down the mast but just to the lower spreader. It was a good thing I had a short climb though as I could feel the fatigue starting to set in--climbing up and down the mast, being out in the sun, not drinking enough water, and spending a fair amount of time up in the stiff breeze. It took awhile. Had to slack the port and starboard cap and intermediates. Reposition the spreader, retighten the rig, etc. It looks mo' betta now.

Anyway, I finally finished up around 1700. I was beat. I went over to Little Jerusalem (a restaurant near the lagoon in St Maarten) and bought an $8 Schwarma and cold Arizona Iced Tea. I was wiped out. I drank about a gallon and a half of water and was still dehydrated.

The only casualty of the day was a hole torn in my much loved Mountain Hardware sun-shirt. It got fed into the accender on the way down during one of the mast trips and that-was-that. It's an old shirt, which is probably why I like it so much, and was worn thin and certainly had lost fiber strength do to uv damage.

Anyway, I'm glad glad the part is installed. I'll sea trial it as soon as I can.

[mashenden]

A very interesting update. Thank you!!

No sense in gambling any time soon - all luck was used up on the drill incident

[tjr818]

I have always heard that any fitting on a boat should be strong enough to lift the boat. That is the first halyard diverter that I have seen that lives up to that. Another great job on a beautiful vessel.
Congrats.

[Jim Walsh]

Looks good, John. I'm left wondering what material is was made from.

[Sea Hunt Video]

John:

By my count you climbed the mast at least 11 times that day. I stopped counting at 11 anyways. On my very best day with two people trying to yank me up (and act as spotters) I doubt I would be able to climb to the top once. Sadly, too old, too fat (linguine, Italian sausage, red wine) and too out of shape.

Would you mind terribly climbing up again (for the 12th plus time ) and taking a slighter wider angle photo that shows the position of your recent installation in relation to the masthead, etc. If I recall correctly the main halyard was chafing against the side of masthead channels. I would be interested to see the new positioning of the halyard with this new "diverter".

You've rested enough Marine. Back to work

This is a terrific thread. Very educational and very entertaining.

[John Stone]

Hahaha. No more trips up the mast, even for you Roberto. Maybe this will help. The fitting is directly below the mast head fitting, which is black anodized, on the forward face of the mast. If you look carefully, you can see the bottom of the sheave box at the top of the photo. The halyards are running straight down through the two fairleads in the fitting. The primary jib halyard is the white and blue one on the port side of the mast. It has a spectra-light core. The tan one is the secondary jib halyard. Marlow prestretched double braid. Both are 10mm or a fat 3/8".

There was a little chafe on the main halyard on the trip down from NC. I addressed it with a leather chafing guard. That seemed to do the trick. For now, I'm leaving it alone.

For Jim Walsh, it's anodized aluminum. T6061 I think but I am not sure about that. I can ask Robert if you like.

[John Stone]

20 May 2016--The Far Reach, Anchored, Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten.

I spent 2 1/2 hours yesterday scrubbing the hull of the Far Reach in preparation for my upcoming singlehanded passage back to NC.

I moved the Far Reach out of the lagoon this morning and anchored in Simpson Bay (photo below). I have provisioned with food, ice, water, and cleared Customs. With luck I'll get underway this afternoon. That would put me near Virgin Gorda tomorrow morning. I can divert to the BVI in daylight should the halyard chafe issue not be solved.

The winds are expected to be light for the next week. Could be a slow passage. Will have to see. Will let y'all know when I arrive. Thanks for all the kind words and great support during my trip this year.

[Jim Walsh]

Lets all keep John in our thoughts. Tropical storm Bonnie is in his track to North Carolina. We need Bonnie to behave herself and allow John a safe trip home. Best of luck John!

[John Stone]

2 June 2016--The Far Reach, Anchored, Cape Lookout, NC

Hello my Cape Dory Brothers and Sisters! The Far Reach safely made Landfall at Cape Lookout NC about 1830 yesterday, 1 June. We are anchored at almost the exact spot from which we took our departure on 8 December and which is depicted at the beginning of this thread.

We sailed 1,334 nautical miles from St Maarten to Cape Lookout--my longest singlehanded passage to date. It was a wonderful voyage. We successfully dodged TS Bonnie and in fact sailed right under the the mostly disintegrated "Low" about 1400 yesterday (though I now understand she may be regenerating as she moves NE up the coast).

It was mostly down wind sailing (what fun!). We had some wonderful 140+ mile runs offset by some slow sailing as we ran into light winds and numerous night time squalls. We made 90 miles in 13 hours at one point but then reduced sail during the night. I sailed under reduced canvas almost every night to reduce the likelihood of "high adventure" with so many squalls about when running downwind in the dark with a whisker pole etc. Also, Chris Parker recommended we remain well behind Bonnie, which we did. For the last four days or so it was just plan squally weather with a number of scary electrical storms--you know the kind, where the flash and the bang are about the same time! However, fortunately the wind speed in the squalls was moderate (30-35 knots), all things considered.

I'll send a full report and include many pictures when I get the Far Reach safely in her berth at Cherry Point in a few days. I am presently anchored at the "Bight" at Cape Lookout waiting for some settled weather and a cooperative tide to shoot the Beaufort Inlet and clear customs. From there about 22 NM to the marina at Cherry Point.

Thanks to all for your kind comments and prayers during our voyage home and throughout a wonderful six month trip to the eastern Caribbean.

[Jim Walsh]

Well done, John. Bravo!

[Paul D.]

Congrats John on a successful passage and Gulf Stream crossing.

[John Stone]

To all the terrific Cape Dorians that have been so supportive of our efforts to rebuild the Far Reach and sent such encouraging emails over the last seven years, thank you. It seems fitting to wrap up this long thread about our voyage to the West Indies and back home with a closing entry. So here goes:

With our off-shore adventure on pause it was time to put the Far Reach on the hard. I have several small boat projects to complete, a summer of family camping planned, and prep work to complete for the kids 11th grade home-school year. Since I can't spend time on her, better to have the Far Reach as safe as possible with hurricane season upon us in coastal NC.

It was a sad day pulling the Far Reach out of the water at the end of June and removing all her stores and equipment that had sustained our voyage so well. I tried not to think about it--just do like you have to do when tasks are unpleasant but must be done--put your head down and keep moving forward.

I find myself frequently reliving in my mind sailing in the West Indies and the single-handed off-shore voyage home--an incredible experience that was everything I wanted it to be. My connection to the sea is long lived. And it seems as I get older the bond grows ever stronger and more visceral. The Far Reach is so simple and yet so physical to sail it magnifies the experience. I could just as easily have been sailing a pilot cutter from the 1880s. There are very few technologies or electronics to shield me from the power, vastness, and sublime beauty of the sea or protect me from my own poor decision-making or lack of seamanship. It was on me and I loved it that way. Without all the modern "must-have" gear that complicates today's sailing and distracts the mind I was able to experience the quiet uncluttered physical life I was seeking. I found it in abundance and it soothed my battered and wounded spirit. At sea I could feel the power of the ocean and the majesty of the wind and sky as it flowed over and coursed through me. Truly, as Loren Eiseley observed, “if there is any magic on this planet it is contained in water.”

I never slept better or felt better about myself and my place in the world as I did when I was sailing the Far Reach through the perennial N.E. Trades. My life was as simple as my boat. I experienced the very essence of an uncomplicated life and the personal and emotional freedom it delivers. It was an experience I craved after 26 years of a much-loved but often grueling life as a US Marine topped by an additional punishing six year rebuild of a once tired and wore out Cape Dory 36. When I started the rebuild I had no idea of how relentless an effort would be required to complete it. Though I had retired from active duty I still had responsibilities to juggle with my family along with the shared responsibility of homeschooling our two children. I once commented to a friend how excited he must be to have his own rebuilt Hess 30 finally sailing and he told me “to be truthful I am too exhausted to enjoy it right now.” Well, that turned out to be exactly how I felt when we finally splashed the Far Reach. I was just numb from the degree of mental and physical effort it took to complete such an enormous project alone. I then understood why so many people give up—it just feels at times like it will never end and for many people eventually the vision just dims to a pin prick then disappears altogether. With the boat finally in the water I took no break but pressed ahead completing a number of additional projects to prepare the Far Reach for our first 1,600 nm offshore passage. By the time we took our departure from Cape Lookout, only six months after launching the Far Reach, I was completely exhausted driven only by the singular focus to sail to the West Indies.

The rebuild was guided by a life-long vision of a simple yet elegant sailing-centric boat which resulted in a truly outstanding sailing machine. The Far Reach exceeded my expectations in every way. The experience I gained during the rebuild gave me a reassuring confidence that came from knowing I could fix, repair, or modify any part of her. It was a liberating feeling. At no time during the voyage did I ever feel overwhelmed or frustrated. Sure, things went wrong at times. But, confidently working through problems is part of the experience and added color and depth to the adventure. In reality, after more than 3,500 nautical miles of ocean sailing we suffered only a single chafed halyard.

As for a simple boat--The reassuring ritual of lighting kerosene navigation lamps, heaving a sounding line into clear tropical-waters, hoisting or wrestling down to the deck powerful hank-on headsails, tacking up narrow coral-infested channels, or sculling a 18,000 lb boat into a quiet anchorage tangibly connected me to the timeless sea and the many long-gone sailors that inspired me since childhood. Every day I spent on the Far Reach I felt my internal systems recharging. New life, along with a large dose of tranquility, caressed my body and nourished my spirit.

At sea there is no bureaucracy. There is no media or political spin. There are no pontificating celebrities or media blow-hards. There is no death by a thousand rules. All your tasks relate to the boat. There is only now. You are the master of all you survey as you make your way across a stunningly beautiful and yet at times terrifying and immensely powerful ocean. The only decisions that count are your own, however wise or foolish they may be. In a nutshell, to be alone at sea on your own boat is to experience the essence of personal freedom that so many of us long for yet which can be so hard to find in the frenetic modern world.

The double handed 1,600 nm offshore voyage from Cape Lookout, NC to the BVI was a rewarding but strenuous, difficult, upwind sail. I gained a lot of confidence in myself and the Far Reach. I would not trade that experience for anything. However, the 1300 nm mile single handed downwind passage home from St. Maarten was a wonderfully relaxing meditative and magical event. I did not want it to end. There is simply nothing like running downwind in the trades with a perfectly balanced boat under your feet, the hatches open and the decks dry, while a long line of blue-grey Atlantic rollers lifts the stern and whooshes past. Alone and on such a simple boat there was plenty of time for contemplation, observation, and self reflection. I returned home a more skilled sailor and a far better human than had left six months before.

Now, with the Far Reach waiting and resting on the hard I enjoy my amazing family and navigate a life more complicated by necessity all the while planning and scheming for the next voyage to freedom.

[Jim Walsh]

Nice epilogue, John. I enjoyed all of your entries immensely and look forward to more in the not too distant future.