Took Tomfoolery, the TomCat, out for its first Official Cruise yesterday. I’d poked around before but this trip involved going over the horizon and staying aboard for the night.
First, of course, maintenance and repairs. As previously mentioned, I have two DC outlets next to the helm. One has a cigarette lighter style socket and works fine. The other has two USB ports and doesn’t work at all.
Fortunately, the fuse panel is very close to the DC outlets and it is labeled very nicely. Unfortunately, the labels bear absolutely no relationship to the real uses of the circuits. Only took me 20 minutes to figure that out. The refrigerator is quite angry with me now after I shut if off 20 times while “testing” the DC circuit.
In any case, the fuses are all fine. Not only do they look fine but the cigarette lighter outlet works just fine and it appears to be on the same circuit as the USB charger. I surmise this from noticing that only one set of wires goes to both of them. Why there are two fuses labeled DC remains a mystery (of course those weren’t the right fuses anyway – ask the refrigerator).
How to fix this? I have no idea. That’s why I come here.
So, repair not completed, I headed out!
Weather was perfect with temps around 60, calm winds and glass smooth water. That didn’t look right for January so I immediately set about frothing up the water and setting a few speed records in the process.
I’ve got my chart plotters half figured out in that I can use the Garmin to consistently pinpoint my location and Navionics on the iPad to inconsistently plot a course for me to follow.
I don’t know if my pervious problem was interference but I added an external Bluetooth GPS unit and placed it away from the other electronics. Navionics now seems to know which direction I’m travelling (most of the time).
Now I need to figure out how to plot a course starting from wherever I’m at. I can add courses till the cows come home if I put in the origin and the destination. That’s fine for armchair navigation. When I’m on the water and I change my mind about where I’m going, I don’t want to have to figure out where I am first. It’s a GPS – it knows where I’m at! However, when I try to enter a new course, it patiently waits for me to put in the origin. If I just punch a spot on the screen to set an origin point somewhere near me and choose automatic course, Navionics faithfully plots a proper course but never recognizes that I’m on it – even if I cross the plotted line.
I decided, once again, to use my eyeballs for navigation – and I navigated right into a collection of several hundred seagulls and ducks. More on them later.
I eventually approached one of my all time favorite marinas – River Dunes, near Oriental. It’s one of my all time favorites even though I have never actually been on a boat there. So peaceful and beautiful that I sometimes drive the two and a half hours from home just to walk the docks. I woke up the dockmaster with a phone call (bit quiet this time of year) and surprised him with a request for an overnight slip. He said they were full up but could put me on the dock near the fuel pumps. Works for me.
Here’s a picture of my weekend cottage. Not the building, of course, the boat.
The dockmaster (actually the marina manager but he was mastering the dock so he was also the dockmaster) waved me in and, it being a slow day, I entertained him with several unorthodox approaches before finally touching nicely on the dock – and then backing up the 25 yards to where he was actually standing.
We then engaged in a conversation with which all of you are quite familiar. He was smitten with the C Dory and told me that he had actually almost bought a 25 last year before his wife (temporarily) talked him out of it. He didn’t realize there was a cat in the family so he’s now off refiguring his life plan. Interesting side note – he grew up in Crystal Lake, IL where I spent 20 years in the middle of my career.
The marina is spectacular and the facilities top rate. Nicest boater’s lounge I have ever seen. Not much going on at this time of year but just walking around was worth the trip.
Woke up to darkness, cold and icy docks and ramps. It being 4 AM, I decided that a good read was in order and kept at it until it was time for a short nap before the local café, Yawl’s, opened and fed me nicely (takeout of course in these COVID times).
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I was a wise and skilled mariner. I’ve shed most of the skills I once had but retained just enough memory to look up the forecast. Building winds throughout the day coming from the south west – which is the worst direction for docking at my home slip. There’s a big metal piling between my slip and my slipmate as is the custom in these parts. I know that someday I am going to bump into that nasty post. Not wanting today to be someday, I decided to do a little exploring before hightailing it back to my berth before the winds picked up.
I meandered down Broad Creek for a while with one eye on the channel markers and the other eye on my depth sounder which wasn’t sounding at all. Drat. It had come loose right before I bought the boat but during the inspection haulout, the previous owner reattached it and it had worked fine since then. Another item on the list.
The creek was quite nice. I have not properly appreciated the North Carolina waterways as there are few public places from shore with good views. On the water, however, it’s all nice. Thought about anchoring out for awhile but then remembered that blasted piling and the contrary wind so I headed back out to the ICW – where my depth sounder magically started working.
I soon met up again with the hundreds of birds peacefully floating on the water before they saw me and went into panic mode. I was sure dozens were going to hit me but they all miraculously stayed clear – even the seagulls who were in full fright mode until they spied fish and then immediately dropped down right in front of me to nosh. Somehow they all survived unscathed (well, not the fish).
Speaking of fish, soon after disrupting the birds, a fish, and a big one from the sound of it, smacked into the hull! Another one then hit and another! I’m familiar with Asian carp attacking boats in the Midwest but I’d never heard of any such thing out here and they were definitely too large to be flying fish. I’m not much of an ichthyologist but I decided to try and identify the creature nonetheless. I tried to open the helm window but it was stuck solid. I looked out and, much to my surprise, was actually able to pin down the species. It was a Mid Atlantic Giant Fender Fish, sub species Taylor Made, I believe. Sautés well with a little rum and garlic but has a rubbery texture.
I slowed down to prevent any more fish strikes and added “stow fenders” to my growing list of forgotten skills.
The wind was building from the wrong direction so I made a beeline for home and watched with dismay as the flags on the bridge flew straight out horizontally – all pointing towards that piling.
As I approached the slip, I reminded myself of two promises I’d made myself: 1) make sure the engine is out of gear before tying up and 2) wear the damn lifejacket when docking. No need for a repeat of the boat trying to run away incident at the fuel dock a few weeks back.
I got reasonably straight into the slip, quickly stepped into the cockpit and tried to loop the stern line over the dock cleat. Not happening. Back to the helm for a do over with the wind building minute by minute. Lined up again, still couldn’t get the line over so I “nimbly” stepped onto the dock with the dock line in hand.
Pulling mightily, I realized that today was, indeed, someday and BANG!, into the piling went the boat. I pulled harder and suddenly the boat began to turn around the end of the finger pier and into my slipmate’s shiny and sharp props. BANG! SCRAPE!
The boat was now improbably heading upwind which could mean only one thing. Damn engines were still in gear! I obviously need to get back onboard but there was a whole lot of stuff going on. I really needed to get things under control because directly behind my slip is this!
I don’t think I’d ever be able to walk the docks again if I was known as “That guy whose boat was hit by a train.”
Fortunately, I have a loop tied in a bow to stern line. I dropped it over a cleat and the boat continued to ping pong between the piling and the props. I jumped aboard, got to the throttle and deftly (more or less) showed the boat, dock and wind who was boss. The piling laughed.
After tying up, I did damage assessment. First, my slipmate’s props were just as shiny and sharp as ever. Second, the piling had sustained no damage. Having survived several hurricanes, I had no worries about that. Finally, the TomCat.
I looked as close as I could and could not see a ding, dent or scratch anywhere. I think the rubrail had been the main point of contact with the piling. As for the props, thanks to the previous owner’s wise choices, there was nary a scratch on the hull. He had the hull painted with a special Awlgrip that is unbelievably tough. I then checked my pride: severe damage and no insurance to pay for repairs. Been there, done that too many times to count.
I added “put strip of painter’s taped next to throttle showing neutral position” to my list.
I also rigged a line between the two dock cleats. I can now, in theory, grab that line either by hand or with the boat hook, while coming in without having to lasso a cleat. Hopefully that will be enough to stop the chaos long enough to calmly get lines secured without jumping off the boat. (My days of singlehanding large sailboats, under sail, through crowded marinas and into slips are obviously in the distant past)
Prior to this ill fated voyage, I’d been meaning to ask this august body about ways to protect the boat from that evil piling (other than relieving the skipper of command). Simply hanging a fender from the boat won’t do because there’s no telling what part of the boat I will sling against it next time. I was thinking there must be a way to wrap some sort of padding right around the piling itself. How to do that, I leave to you.
By the time I got home, my failing memory served me well as I had forgotten most of the drama. I then picked up “The Voyage of the Yankee Lady” by Judith Silva (recommended by our very own Rick from Maine) and began dreaming of long, trouble free voyages awaiting me.
First, of course, maintenance and repairs. As previously mentioned, I have two DC outlets next to the helm. One has a cigarette lighter style socket and works fine. The other has two USB ports and doesn’t work at all.
Fortunately, the fuse panel is very close to the DC outlets and it is labeled very nicely. Unfortunately, the labels bear absolutely no relationship to the real uses of the circuits. Only took me 20 minutes to figure that out. The refrigerator is quite angry with me now after I shut if off 20 times while “testing” the DC circuit.
In any case, the fuses are all fine. Not only do they look fine but the cigarette lighter outlet works just fine and it appears to be on the same circuit as the USB charger. I surmise this from noticing that only one set of wires goes to both of them. Why there are two fuses labeled DC remains a mystery (of course those weren’t the right fuses anyway – ask the refrigerator).
How to fix this? I have no idea. That’s why I come here.
So, repair not completed, I headed out!
Weather was perfect with temps around 60, calm winds and glass smooth water. That didn’t look right for January so I immediately set about frothing up the water and setting a few speed records in the process.
I’ve got my chart plotters half figured out in that I can use the Garmin to consistently pinpoint my location and Navionics on the iPad to inconsistently plot a course for me to follow.
I don’t know if my pervious problem was interference but I added an external Bluetooth GPS unit and placed it away from the other electronics. Navionics now seems to know which direction I’m travelling (most of the time).
Now I need to figure out how to plot a course starting from wherever I’m at. I can add courses till the cows come home if I put in the origin and the destination. That’s fine for armchair navigation. When I’m on the water and I change my mind about where I’m going, I don’t want to have to figure out where I am first. It’s a GPS – it knows where I’m at! However, when I try to enter a new course, it patiently waits for me to put in the origin. If I just punch a spot on the screen to set an origin point somewhere near me and choose automatic course, Navionics faithfully plots a proper course but never recognizes that I’m on it – even if I cross the plotted line.
I decided, once again, to use my eyeballs for navigation – and I navigated right into a collection of several hundred seagulls and ducks. More on them later.
I eventually approached one of my all time favorite marinas – River Dunes, near Oriental. It’s one of my all time favorites even though I have never actually been on a boat there. So peaceful and beautiful that I sometimes drive the two and a half hours from home just to walk the docks. I woke up the dockmaster with a phone call (bit quiet this time of year) and surprised him with a request for an overnight slip. He said they were full up but could put me on the dock near the fuel pumps. Works for me.
Here’s a picture of my weekend cottage. Not the building, of course, the boat.
The dockmaster (actually the marina manager but he was mastering the dock so he was also the dockmaster) waved me in and, it being a slow day, I entertained him with several unorthodox approaches before finally touching nicely on the dock – and then backing up the 25 yards to where he was actually standing.
We then engaged in a conversation with which all of you are quite familiar. He was smitten with the C Dory and told me that he had actually almost bought a 25 last year before his wife (temporarily) talked him out of it. He didn’t realize there was a cat in the family so he’s now off refiguring his life plan. Interesting side note – he grew up in Crystal Lake, IL where I spent 20 years in the middle of my career.
The marina is spectacular and the facilities top rate. Nicest boater’s lounge I have ever seen. Not much going on at this time of year but just walking around was worth the trip.
Woke up to darkness, cold and icy docks and ramps. It being 4 AM, I decided that a good read was in order and kept at it until it was time for a short nap before the local café, Yawl’s, opened and fed me nicely (takeout of course in these COVID times).
Once upon a time, long, long ago, I was a wise and skilled mariner. I’ve shed most of the skills I once had but retained just enough memory to look up the forecast. Building winds throughout the day coming from the south west – which is the worst direction for docking at my home slip. There’s a big metal piling between my slip and my slipmate as is the custom in these parts. I know that someday I am going to bump into that nasty post. Not wanting today to be someday, I decided to do a little exploring before hightailing it back to my berth before the winds picked up.
I meandered down Broad Creek for a while with one eye on the channel markers and the other eye on my depth sounder which wasn’t sounding at all. Drat. It had come loose right before I bought the boat but during the inspection haulout, the previous owner reattached it and it had worked fine since then. Another item on the list.
The creek was quite nice. I have not properly appreciated the North Carolina waterways as there are few public places from shore with good views. On the water, however, it’s all nice. Thought about anchoring out for awhile but then remembered that blasted piling and the contrary wind so I headed back out to the ICW – where my depth sounder magically started working.
I soon met up again with the hundreds of birds peacefully floating on the water before they saw me and went into panic mode. I was sure dozens were going to hit me but they all miraculously stayed clear – even the seagulls who were in full fright mode until they spied fish and then immediately dropped down right in front of me to nosh. Somehow they all survived unscathed (well, not the fish).
Speaking of fish, soon after disrupting the birds, a fish, and a big one from the sound of it, smacked into the hull! Another one then hit and another! I’m familiar with Asian carp attacking boats in the Midwest but I’d never heard of any such thing out here and they were definitely too large to be flying fish. I’m not much of an ichthyologist but I decided to try and identify the creature nonetheless. I tried to open the helm window but it was stuck solid. I looked out and, much to my surprise, was actually able to pin down the species. It was a Mid Atlantic Giant Fender Fish, sub species Taylor Made, I believe. Sautés well with a little rum and garlic but has a rubbery texture.
I slowed down to prevent any more fish strikes and added “stow fenders” to my growing list of forgotten skills.
The wind was building from the wrong direction so I made a beeline for home and watched with dismay as the flags on the bridge flew straight out horizontally – all pointing towards that piling.
As I approached the slip, I reminded myself of two promises I’d made myself: 1) make sure the engine is out of gear before tying up and 2) wear the damn lifejacket when docking. No need for a repeat of the boat trying to run away incident at the fuel dock a few weeks back.
I got reasonably straight into the slip, quickly stepped into the cockpit and tried to loop the stern line over the dock cleat. Not happening. Back to the helm for a do over with the wind building minute by minute. Lined up again, still couldn’t get the line over so I “nimbly” stepped onto the dock with the dock line in hand.
Pulling mightily, I realized that today was, indeed, someday and BANG!, into the piling went the boat. I pulled harder and suddenly the boat began to turn around the end of the finger pier and into my slipmate’s shiny and sharp props. BANG! SCRAPE!
The boat was now improbably heading upwind which could mean only one thing. Damn engines were still in gear! I obviously need to get back onboard but there was a whole lot of stuff going on. I really needed to get things under control because directly behind my slip is this!
I don’t think I’d ever be able to walk the docks again if I was known as “That guy whose boat was hit by a train.”
Fortunately, I have a loop tied in a bow to stern line. I dropped it over a cleat and the boat continued to ping pong between the piling and the props. I jumped aboard, got to the throttle and deftly (more or less) showed the boat, dock and wind who was boss. The piling laughed.
After tying up, I did damage assessment. First, my slipmate’s props were just as shiny and sharp as ever. Second, the piling had sustained no damage. Having survived several hurricanes, I had no worries about that. Finally, the TomCat.
I looked as close as I could and could not see a ding, dent or scratch anywhere. I think the rubrail had been the main point of contact with the piling. As for the props, thanks to the previous owner’s wise choices, there was nary a scratch on the hull. He had the hull painted with a special Awlgrip that is unbelievably tough. I then checked my pride: severe damage and no insurance to pay for repairs. Been there, done that too many times to count.
I added “put strip of painter’s taped next to throttle showing neutral position” to my list.
I also rigged a line between the two dock cleats. I can now, in theory, grab that line either by hand or with the boat hook, while coming in without having to lasso a cleat. Hopefully that will be enough to stop the chaos long enough to calmly get lines secured without jumping off the boat. (My days of singlehanding large sailboats, under sail, through crowded marinas and into slips are obviously in the distant past)
Prior to this ill fated voyage, I’d been meaning to ask this august body about ways to protect the boat from that evil piling (other than relieving the skipper of command). Simply hanging a fender from the boat won’t do because there’s no telling what part of the boat I will sling against it next time. I was thinking there must be a way to wrap some sort of padding right around the piling itself. How to do that, I leave to you.
By the time I got home, my failing memory served me well as I had forgotten most of the drama. I then picked up “The Voyage of the Yankee Lady” by Judith Silva (recommended by our very own Rick from Maine) and began dreaming of long, trouble free voyages awaiting me.
