Moby Dick and lines

When you sail, you learn about lines and knots. There's an extensive literature on these, and it's difficult to judge what's relevant, but one needs to figure it out. In this passage, Herman Melville makes every detail of the whale-line relevant to survival: the size, the material, the length, the tarring, the coiling etc.

From Moby Dick, Chapter 60: The Line.

The line originally used in the fishery was of the best hemp, slightly vapored with tar, not impregnated with it, as in the case of ordinary ropes; for while tar, as ordinarily used, makes the hemp more pliable to the rope-maker, and also renders the rope itself more convenient to the sailor for common ship use; yet, not only would the ordinary quantity too much stiffen the whale-line for the close coiling to which it must be subjected; but as most seamen are beginning to learn, tar in general by no means adds to the rope’s durability or strength, however much it may give it compactness and gloss.
...
The whale-line is only two thirds of an inch in thickness. At first sight, you would not think it so strong as it really is. By experiment its one and fifty yarns will each suspend a weight of one hundred and twenty pounds; so that the whole rope will bear a strain nearly equal to three tons. In length, the common sperm whale-line measures something over two hundred fathoms. Towards the stern of the boat it is spirally coiled away in the tub, not like the worm-pipe of a still though, but so as to form one round, cheese-shaped mass of densely bedded “sheaves,” or layers of concentric spiralizations, without any hollow but the “heart,” or minute vertical tube formed at the axis of the cheese. As the least tangle or kink in the coiling would, in running out, infallibly take somebody’s arm, leg, or entire body off, the utmost precaution is used in stowing the line in its tub. Some harpooneers will consume almost an entire morning in this business, carrying the line high aloft and then reeving it downwards through a block towards the tub, so as in the act of coiling to free it from all possible wrinkles and twists.

The ANN MARTIN

A few years before retirement, my wife and I decided to build a cruising sailboat to explore the mighty Columbia River and beautiful Pacific Northwest coast.

My main criteria were that it be trailerable, affordable, comfortable, and require no special building skills. It also had to be lapstraked, only because I’ve always liked the distinctive look. I studied a number of designs, notably, Oughtred’s Grey Seal, Dix’s Cape Henry 21 and Selway-Fisher’s Rona; they’re all beautiful boats each with strong points. I chose the centerboard Penguin cabin cruiser by John Welsford because it had the most spacious cabin and berth in its class. Most designs of this size have a split v-berth with a toilet in between, which I don’t think is livable for a long cruise. The Penguin’s berth is undivided and the cabin has a separate and private head compartment. Headroom was also an important consideration. The drawback of a high cabin roof would be increased windage of course, and of a long cabin is a smallish cockpit. There’s quite a selection of designs for this size of boat, and I think we would have been very happy with most of them. As far as I know, there have been six Penguins built (three in North America and three in Australia/NZ), with three more under way.

Layout of the Penguin’s interior. We modified the starboard side by moving the sink aft of the stove and opening the bulkhead to the berth.

It’s a big boat. With its 21 foot length (19 foot waterline), 2200 pound dry weight and 8 foot beam, it’s at the practical limit of being easily trailerable. Nevertheless, the build is within the reach of an inexperienced builder with the available space. My only experience was having built a Banks dory. When I got the plans for the Penguin, I was intimidated at first, but I broke it down into steps and went ahead. There were many times where I was stumped, but I eventually worked out the problems.

The Ann Martin on a centrifugal brake trailer pulled by a V6 SUV. We rarely travel more than one hundred miles.

The building space was our double garage, which has a workshop extension for a total length of 30 feet. We are lucky to have that much space but I’ve seen the same boat built in a regular double garage, positioned diagonally. It took about 1000 hours over four years to launch the boat for a float test in 2010. Knowing that the hardest obstacle with any long term project is keeping up interest, I tried to accomplish something to advance the project every day I was home, even if it was just putting in a single screw. It’s important to perceive progress, no matter how slow. Technically, the curved forecabin was the most difficult step, and at least one Penguin builder squared it off. Appearance wise, it has an Old World look, and would never be called modern. I’ve only heard favorable comments about its lines, the most common being that it must be a renovated fishing boat. I’ve shown it twice at the Toledo, Oregon, wooden boat show, and both times an artist has chosen it as a subject.

Sketch by Sarah Gayle, 2014.

Tom Allen watercolor painting, 2013.

I purchased materials that in my opinion were suitable and durable, but reasonably priced. For example, I used marine grade plywood, but the least expensive I could find locally. Some ‘print through’ of the grain does occur but I can live with it. The paint is quality house paint. The mast was a Douglas Fir tree from the backyard that I debarked and dried vertically outside for a year. Boom and gaff are from dimensional lumber. The epoxy was Duckworks’s 2:1 economy marine epoxy. I made my own cleats. The tabernacle is 2 inch thick white oak instead of welded stainless steel. Shrouds and forestay are made of Dyneema, which I recommend for an amateur build. The chainplates are 1/4” brass bars backed inside with steel plates, which saved a few hundred dollars over 14”  commercial stainless steel chainplates.

I used two 9 foot steel bars with four recessed ½ inch holes for ballast (approximately 450 pounds each, $1700 total) rather than lead; this choice had to do with availability of lead and cost of smelting. If I had to redo, I would use rebars cast in concrete within a ballast box of the appropriate size, which would be a significant saving.

The most expensive items in decreasing order of cost were trailer, ballast, outboard engine, sails and epoxy.

The plans offered a number of sail configurations, but the gaff yawl is the most practical for a trailer boat because the spars are shorter. The main boom and mizzen mast with boom fit inside the cabin, which is desirable for trailering. I can tie on the sails to the spars with shock cords, shove them in the boat and not worry about exposure or falling off. The main mast is about the length of the boat, and its 42 pound weight and forward position make it easy to set up and lift by myself.

You need an outboard in the modern world, sad to say. Most marinas are so narrow that sailing them could be hazardous, and on a river you need to be able to move out of the main channel when the wind dies. We first used a 2HP outboard, which was powerful enough, but it had no neutral or reverse, plus it soon developed reliability issues. We moved up to a 6HP. The outboard is in the cockpit, which in addition to keeping the aesthetic lines clean also protects the engine, but it makes the cockpit noisy and crowded. The cockpit is already smallish and starts to feel awkward with more than two occupants. We try to minimize the use of the outboard as much as possible.

The cabin’s aft wall is tall and impairs the view; one needs to sit on the side deck to see forward. The cabin is large for a 20 foot boat and my 5’4” wife can standup under the 5’6” sliding hatch. The cabin can sit up to four, and there are two long quarter berths, which we use for storage. There is a much appreciated semi-private head, and an adequate galley with gas stove and a sink with hand pumped water. There is a plenty of room for storage for clothing, food and cooler, and staying aboard for a week is not a hardship. In the cabin, I opened up both sides of the berth, where as the original design called for a single starboard entrance. That configuration was too awkward for us. Whoever slept port side would have had to crawl over the other to get out. Plans for the yawl call for a mast compression beam that cuts through the berth. I constructed a ‘compression box’ of 4x4 lumber to transfer compression to the keelson but clear the sleeping area. That modification has given us a wide open sleeping area, and there has been no detectable compression movement, such as cracks in the epoxy.

Our current mizzen sail, a goosenecked standing lug, was meant for another boat and is about 20% larger than called for. It can pull hard. We broke the bumkin on our first trip when we let it fight the steering. We now think of the mizzen as a rudder of sorts. Along with a stronger bumkin, we adjust it last, after the jib and main, such as to reach neutral helm. It is mostly self-tending. In my opinion, a yawl is a great rig for cruising. With a topping lift, the gaff and boom can be rapidly pulled up against and lashed to the mast, and out of the way. I sowed the mizzen sail from a Sailrite kit, which I found easy to do with a regular sewing machine, and my sister’s directions. The plans call for a leg-of-mutton lug sail.

The 125 sq.ft. main sail is gaff rigged. As with a yawl, this was a novel experience for us, and has worked out very well. Despite requiring two halyards to raise, it’s a relatively easy sail to rig and handle. A topping lift and lazyjacks are essential. We added a boom vang to tame the boom when running. An advantage of a mizzen mast is that it is possible to add a gaff vang to minimize twist. Surprisingly, perhaps, that simple addition works wonders on a gaff. Last year, we added a main top sail. It does add an awful lot of power in low wind conditions, although we have not have a chance to use it extensively yet. Our current jib is non-overlapping with the main. This month, I added a clubfoot boom to make it self-tending. On a bit on a whim, I also designed and ordered a flying jib topsail. Why not?

Rigged with all five sails.

View of the cabin from the main hatch. The cook can sit on the centerboard. The Portapotti has been changed for a Raritan PHEII marine toilet.

My wife and I have sailed the ‘Ann Martin’ overnight a number of times, notably on the six day long Columbia 150 expedition in 2013. Tom Luque has posted a short clip of our boat sailing on the first day of it (figure below). In 2014, we spent a week on the Columbia between Vancouver and Bonneville Dam.

Screen capture from a video by Tom Luque 2013; Columbia River near Kathlamet, WA. We were speeding along with the wind, tide and current all in our favor.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_uni-djXnc

 

Toledo, Oregon

It’s a pleasant boat to sail overall. It’s big and stable, and it conveys confidence and provides comfort. The centerboard is useful when in the shallows and the flat bottom makes beaching, or being stranded on tidal flats, relatively uneventful. It tacks very easily, points reasonably well for a gaffer (broad reaching is its strength), and is fast enough for coastal and river cruising. The main drawback is set up time from trailer to water, which is two hours and makes it a poor choice for a short day sail. It was designed to be a coastal cruiser, and for overnight sailing, it does well.

 

Sunset on the Columbia River.

First post!

First post! I'll soon be posting brief and occasional posts on cruises aboard our twenty foot cabin  sailboat, the ANN MARTIN.