Member News and Articles Archives - Page 3 of 11 - Santa Barbara Sail & Power Squadron

October 2022, Cruising on a 150 Year-Old Schooner Windjammer by Rich & Peggy Ciolino

Steve York on November 3, 2022 Member News and Articles

Ever dream of sailing on a true Schooner Windjammer sailboat? How about one that first set sail as a cargo vessel over 150 years ago in Maine, USA? The S/V Lewis R. French plied the East Coast, shipping coal, lumber, fish, trees, granite, and so forth until the 1970s when it was massively restored and converted to a passenger-carrying Windjammer. It now has space below for 20 or so passengers and was named a National Historic Landmark in 1992.

Peggy and I saw an opportunity to sail on one of these beautiful boats as part of an East Coast trip where we were planning to attend an early fall wedding in New England. We did some Windjammer research and found the French to be an interesting choice because of its history and size. Being about 100 feet long with a 65 foot deck, having no engine, and being operated with traditional ropes, lines, and people power, we felt we’d get a truer experience to what sailing on a historic schooner would be.

We boarded the French on a Saturday night and set off on a four-day cruise the following morning.

Here she is dock-side being prepped for the cruise in Camden Harbor.

Having no motor she carries or tows a “yawl dinghy” outfitted with an 85 hp Yanmar engine that’s used for guiding her when docking or leaving a dock, and traveling through a crowded anchorage such as Camden Harbor’s.

Here’s a photo of the boat’s cook, and part-time deck hand, operating the yawl-dinghy “Greyhound” as the French was being pushed from the dock through the maze of anchored and moored boats outside the harbor where her sails can be raised to begin sailing. Also shown is a photo of the view from the bow as she is guided through the harbor.

The ship’s cook did not want to be called chef or cook, just O.B.. So, O.B. did wondrous things with preparing three meals a day on the boat’s wood burning stove. His creations for each meal were served buffet style by placing the food and drinks on the mid-deck cabin top. We’d find a spot on deck to sit down and enjoy the meals he prepared.

And so we began leg one as depicted on the map below. All sails were raised and we had the best day of sailing with 15 – 20 kt winds, flat seas and a sunny sky, as we sailed to McGlathery Island, marked (1), where we anchored and spent our first night at sea.

Setting the anchor was not at all like we as “small” boat sailors are used to. The French’s method is to tightly wrap several loops of chain around the windlass gypsy and, when the crew is given the signal, turn the anchor loose and let it drop to the bottom. Becky, the French’s captain, uses about 40 feet of chain in these shallow waters in calm conditions. The chain has links that are very thick and 3-4 inches long, and the primary anchor, she carries two, is an old Navy style weighing about 150 lbs. The backup anchor is a 250 pounder. Weighing the anchor calls for several crew or volunteers to work the windlass. It’s all mechanical – no electric or hydraulic help. The crew inserts a rod into each of the two ends of the windlass and two volunteers grab each rod and proceed to push their rod down and pull it up in a pumping motion to rotate the windlass gypsies. Each push or pull brings up about three links of chain. There’s a volunteer flaking the chain as it comes up, another one spraying water on the anchor rode to clean it as it comes up, and two crew making sure no one hurts themselves. Once the anchor reaches the surface the crew halts the lifting and ties off the anchor with a line. The windlass crew then continues “pumping” until the anchor is ready to be secured on the bow of the boat while Captain Becky sails off the anchor.

Underway, the French provides a steady ride in a brisk wind and moves nicely at 2-3 kts in very light wind. We’d see 5 – 7 kts of boat speed in decent winds.

On Monday morning, after weighing the anchor, we set course for a place called Burnt Island, marked (2) on the map. Captain Becky had decided to go there for a lobster boil lunch (rather than dinner) on the beach because rain had been forecasted for the afternoon and night. We anchored off the beach and came ashore in several trips on “Greyhound” while the crew transported the food and cooking gear to shore using another dinghy. O.B. had plenty of live lobsters for us.

Peggy and I took a little walk on the island while O.B. and crew were cooking our lunch. We had two lobsters each with corn and a salad – a perfect meal sitting on an isolated beach with a gorgeous view of the beach, trees, and the French.

After lunch, the sky darkened and Captain Becky decided to head for Rockport, (3) on the map, where she’d pick up a mooring in preparation for a rainy night. Those of us that wanted to explore Rockport were taken ashore by the “Greyhound”. Rockport is pretty small and no shops were open. Peggy and I had a nice walk enjoying the pretty homes and boats in the harbor. They have a nice library with a public bathroom and we got to chat with a friendly local woman that was delivering several boxes of old books to the library. She lives in Nebraska but has her childhood home here in Rockport. One thing she told us to do is drive up to Mt. Battie for great views of the coast, which we did after our cruise ended.

Captain Becky returned us to the French on “Greyhound”. We were ready for OB’s next dinner creation

We dropped the mooring the following morning and headed upwind to “700 Island”, marked (4) on the map, where we spent a quiet night at anchor. O.B. included that leftover lobster meat in a breakfast frittata and then prepared a great dinner he called “disassembled lasagna”. He and Captain Becky were on another boat that served lasagna and they didn’t want to be accused of copying their menu, or something like that. Anyway, it had all the ingredients needed for lasagna but substituted linguini for the lasagna noodles. It was a big hit with guests and crew.

On Wednesday morning we weighed anchor again and headed for Camden to complete the cruise. Leaving the dock at the start of the cruise was touchy enough with “Greyhound” pushing the French through the harbor but we were in for a surprise coming back in to dock! With “Greyhound” in the water and Captain Becky’s father in a dinghy pushing sideways they swung the French around 180 degrees without hitting any of the surrounding boats as we neared the dock. Then, the crew picked up two lines laying at the bottom of the harbor that were attached somewhere near the dock, one to port and one to starboard, and they pulled the French to the dock stern first to complete the docking. Now that is unique boat handling!

Miscellaneous photos:

View from the stairs leading down to our cabin

Panoramic view of our “cozy” bunk with a tiny sink serving cold water and floor space for only one person to stand at a time.

The end of the hallway leading to our cabin, #7 on the left. There are three more cabins in that space.

Have you ever seen so many reefing lines along a boom before? It took the crew about a half hour to get them all tied down.

One final note: Once the rain hit on the second day the weather also turned pretty cold and we weren’t quite prepared for that – still it was great fun!

July 2022 Adventures Asea by Virginia and Dennis Johns

Steve York on August 8, 2022 Member News and Articles

We had a chance to get Libertad out numerous times in July. It started with a land trip to Ensenada to pick up s/v Libertad from the Baja Naval boatyard. We had delivered her down there at the end of May for some TLC – primarily involving varnish and paint. Past experience led us to believe that the work would only take a few weeks. We were shocked that the project manager was hesitant to commit to a delivery at the end of June. COVID has had its impact everywhere as the project manager told us that he only had one varnisher and one painter, and they were the same person! Thus the painting couldn’t start until the varnishing was done.

In the June Signal Hoist we documented our great crew, enjoyable trip south, but extremely poor timing – choosing Memorial Day weekend for that delivery. With some hesitation, we headed south on Amtrak on Sunday, July 3^rd – another holiday weekend. Things went smoothly this time. We arrived at the Baja Naval boatyard midday. We admired the yard’s work and started prepping the boat for the return trip (replacing all the equipment we had removed for painting the cockpit).

We ate dinner at the same restaurant as our prior visit and in addition to our delicious dinners ordered two roasted chicken dinners to go for anticipated meals during the passages north. A quick stop at the market for a few items to supplement the chicken made for easy provisioning. We were awakened at 6am on Monday the 4th by movement in the cockpit. The varnisher/painter was in the cockpit sanding and polishing out painting drips! That’s how tight our timing was.

While we were at Customs and Immigration being checked out of Mexico (the boatyard assigns a person to help us through that process but it is still painfully slow), the boatyard staff splashed us back into the water and we were headed for San Diego by 10am. As expected we motored against the wind but the seas weren’t too wild. Virginia had installed the CBP (Customs and Border Patrol) app on her phone, upon the recommendation of Ed Kaufman, and was able to clear us back into the US while out at sea. We had a slip reserved at the Shelter Island Police Dock in case the app didn’t perform as intended, so we decided to enter the bay and get a few hours of sleep. The sun had set as we entered US waters with the skyscrapers of San Diego in sight. It was dark as we entered San Diego Harbor but we knew the way having been to the Police Dock several times. The San Diego fireworks started as we approached our slip and we had a fantastic view of the show.

Knowing we had a 12+ hour trip to Two Harbors, we were up and headed to Catalina by 4am on the 5^th. The holiday traffic had cleared out and we hooked up to a mooring ball just as the sun slipped below the mountain peak. It was a quiet night on the boat. Another early start the following morning got us back to Santa Barbara before dark. The two roasted chicken dinners from Ensenada were readily consumed enroute along with some illegal produce brought into US waters from Mexico. Generally, an eventless trip but lots of motoring. Dennis was concerned that with all those hours on the new engine it would soon be time to change the oil. He was shocked when we read from the manual that the next oil change wasn’t until 400 hours. But we plan to double check that.

The next week we had a few day sails with friends and family. The first day sail was on Monday and represented a prize won in an online auction conducted by Dennis’ Rotary club last November. For funds donated to his foundation, the winners were treated to a 3 hour sail and an onboard dinner back at the dock. The wind and sea state was perfect for these novice sailors. While they ate dinner in the salon, we provided a PowerPoint presentation of our trip around the world. They exclaimed that the meal and the entertainment were worth every penny of their donation.

Relatives had made vacation plans to be in Carpinteria in July (they had owned a house in Carpinteria for many years and Dennis had been invited to spend many summer weeks with them during his teen years). The Wednesday following that Monday day sail, we had scheduled a day sail for all these relatives and their spouses. We borrowed PFDs from the Slocums in order to have sufficient safety gear for our group of 10. We were worried that seating would be a concern if the weather turned inclement, but we had sunshine, dolphins, calm seas, and great wind that day also – such fun. Ten random people and no one got seasick!

We ended the month with our cruise to PCYC. Lisa and Scott Burns joined us on Libertad. We left Santa Barbara Friday morning for Little Scorpion under overcast skies and 5 knots of wind on the nose. We arrived at Santa Cruz Island to clear skies and warm sunshine. We were prepared to use two anchors, but as we cruised the anchorage, we observed that only two of the six boats in the

anchorage had used two and they were both in the NW corner, the rest were swinging on one anchor. We joined the other four with one anchor. For dinner, we enjoyed BBQ’d pork chops with sides contributed by Lisa – baked potatoes and mixed veggies. Dinner was followed by at least two hours of Mexican Train dominos before we all cried “Uncle” and headed for our bunks. In the morning we

were greeted with heavy overcast skies but the Burns were not to be denied their cruising tradition of ocean activity and kayaked around the anchorage visiting the sea caves while we all enjoyed the standard anchoring entertainment provided by the arriving boats. We did indeed swing a full 360 that night, but no mishaps. Later that morning, we motor-sailed to the Channel Islands Harbor, enjoying motor-sailed to the Channel Islands Harbor, enjoying visiting dolphins and an apparent yacht race just outside the breakwater. We entered the harbor with the appropriate pennants flying: SBSPS burgee, Commander’s burgee, and finally Bridge Officer (SEO) burgee. The dockside appetizer party was well attended including the District Commander, Ventura Squadron members, and others from the Las Vegas Squadron. Ron & Vicki’s Painkillers were a big hit for all again. After two years of absence it was a shock to see that huge slab of prime rib covering ¾’s of the PCYC dinner plate. One of Virginia’s college roommates joined us for the PCYC dinner, spent the night aboard Libertad and made it a crew of 5 that headed back to Santa Barbara Sunday morning on a route that took us out around Platform Grace to allow us to set up for an afternoon sail. Unfortunately the wind did not fill in until we were only about mile outside the harbor, so more hours on the engine. We arrived at the slip shortly after 3pm and Lisa and Scott were off to another event –they are a busy couple. These trips always end with a list of maintenance issues, leaving us with plenty of things to do on the boat before the next trip which will be the traditional Two Harbors cruise. Hope many of you will join us.

JUNE 2022 BENCHMARK SURVIVES ITS SHAKEDOWN CRUISE BY SCOTT BURNS

Steve York on June 7, 2022 Member News and Articles

I go to Fry’s every May to find out what I’ve forgotten to bring so I’ll be better prepared for the rest of the summer.

Steve Carlson and Boris Alves joined me on the pleasant trip. We left the Harbor at 8am Friday, motoring over. About 8 foot swell’s made it interesting, and the sun came out ½ way to the island. One boat from Ventura Harbor was anchored when we arrived and another showed up before dusk.

Normally it takes about a week to get ready for the first trip and only two minor issues: I forgot to recharge the batteries in my handheld Garmin, but handled when we anchored. The other one could have been a lot worse. The knot tying the dinghy rope came undone while we were inside the boat late Saturday afternoon. Another boater had just anchored, noticed it drifting and brought it back, so “Minor Issue”. I’ll check knots more frequently and learn the eye splice.

Sunday started with me watching the Sun rise over the coastal fog bank, We left the anchorage about 8am, and ½ hour later had the motor off and sailed till the middle of the channel, then motor sailed the rest of the way.

February 2022 News From Adventurer Sailors by Patrick White & Alyssa Lewis

Steve York on February 12, 2022 Member News and Articles

The following is a letter received from members Patrick and Alyssa several months ago as they continue to make their way about the Pacific. We’ve added a map to help picture their stops along the Alaskan coast.

Hey there,

It has been a while since I have sent an update.

Here is Sand Point – Juneau.

Please let us know how you are doing as well!

…

Our 2 new starters arrived at General Delivery in Sand Point.

We installed one, stored one away, said our sad goodbyes and headed east.

Our neighbor of the last 2 weeks, Jack, had his fishing spot around the corner on the way out. He invited us to come watch his operation. Jack works year-round as a commercial fisherman, but sets aside the month of August to fish with his wife and son. His spot is right under a waterfall.

We helped to unload a net and from his catch we were gifted 11 silver salmon.

Each salmon became 2 fillets, which were carefully stacked into a five-gallon bucket, in between generous layers of course salt. We are super excited about this preservation method. They had brought two buckets of salted salmon with them to Hawaii and it lasted outside on the porch for 2 years. You have to soak it before cooking to wash away the excess salt.

We will let you know how it goes. Having a bucket of salted fish sure does feel “salty” though.

We had salmon sandwiches and headed off.

It was an incredible trip. We sailed through beautiful isolated anchorages along the Alaskan Peninsula. One of our favorite spots ever was called Agripina Bay. Absolutely the most incredible anchorage, it encompassed everything we were looking for in sailing Alaska, Patrick dubbed the mountains “the Sunken Sierras”. They rise thousands of feet straight above the ocean, a glacier, a river. We didn’t see any bears, but we felt so small tucked away in this gem of a cove.

Once we got to Kodiak, we were anxious to cross the Gulf of Alaska.

The consensus among the fisherman was that we needed to get across before September 1st when the September Gales start blowing. The Gulf of Alaska is a notoriously unfriendly body of water. We installed a new antenna and antenna cable to the top of the mast and waited for a window.

We were beginning to realize that breezing through Alaska may not be as “real quick” as expected, so we put a sign in the galley that reads “Let’s Be Unrealistic Together” and chuckle whenever we see it.

The weather forecast gave us a nice window to make Yakutat with time to spare, so we motored away, then sailed into the night. In the morning, I kicked my shoes off and climbed into “the nest”, the bed we sleep in on passages.

Suddenly, a little bird came and landed on my head! It jumped around both of us, and then landed on Patrick’s head! Tiny Bird gave itself a full tour, clearly not intending on leaving anytime soon. We decided we couldn’t have him pooping in the cabin, so Patrick made Tiny Bird a little house out of blue tape and cardboard, and put it into the cockpit. It was a fixer upper, but cozy.

To my surprise, Tiny Bird hopped right into his tiny house and slept the whole night there!

In the morning I was having tea on my watch when Tiny Bird hopped out of its house, and stood puffed up on the front porch. So cute. I went inside to make some pancakes, came back out, and poor Tiny Bird was legs up, on her back, dead. On the front porch of her new home.

The seas remained very calm with no wind, or very little, and we motored through the night. We should have guessed that was a bad omen!

We were moving more slowly than anticipated, the wind was zero and our engine was missing some of her usual “choooch”. The system was moving in faster than predicted so we altered course to Icy Bay. With 20 miles to go,

The wind picked up suddenly, blowing cold glacier air directly on our nose. Althea’s tacking angles were devastatingly defeating. We were losing hope, tacking parallel to where we wanted to go.

Between 12 & 4 it dramatically increased…

It was our first time in “I want my mommy” kind of weather.

Reducing sail from reef 1 to reef 2 on the main and pulling out our storm jib, the weather kept brewing.

We dropped the storm jib finding it difficult to move around on deck. When on the bow to take down the jib, it felt like being sky rocketed into space only to plummet back to earth, being submerged in ice, grey, green, cold, cold, water.

Under a double reefed main, we went down below to rest, dry and get out of the freezing weather.

Putting wet clothes on and going back outside to face the Gulf of Alaska was a feat within itself. When we emerged, we discovered the canvas roof was halfway off and our double reefed mainsail had 3 of 6 cars pulled out of the track. Back to work.

We hauled the storm jib up, tacked away from shore, and experienced great difficulty in getting the main down. Suddenly I looked over my shoulder and saw, beam on…

Wave!

Patrick leaped as high as he could on the mast. I got low on the cabin top and grabbed the handrail.

Patrick saw the wave commute through the cockpit of Althea. I was waist deep in rushing water on top of the cabin.

What felt like hours later we had the storm try and storm jib up and were underway.

Dressed in our smallest suit of sail, we lashed down the helm and went down below.

Above deck there was horizontal rain, uncharted waters towards shore, and supposed massive swell further out to sea. We hove-to, from one tack to the other, staying between these two boundaries while keeping Kayak Island 60 miles downwind.

The wind blowing from Icy Bay was the coldest, most biting wind I have ever imagined, the water was churning and boiling and looked as icy cold as it felt.

We went back down below, took off our wet clothes, dried off and tried to warm up, all the while doting sweetly on one another.

Nothing like a storm in a small boat at sea to ignite the flames of passion.

We wished we had a heater that worked at sea.

The cockpit was pooped many times, waves finding all the cracks in our door.

When we lifted the floor boards we discovered we had taken on quite a bit of water, despite having been pumping all the while.

So we pumped the bilge until there was no doubt it was empty. We were exhausted.

As the system began winding down, another boat came into view on our AIS. It was fishing boat. We called to see how they were faring.

“You guys fishing halibut?” He said.

Jaws dropped, we looked at each other and exclaimed…

NO! We are just trying to survive!!…and then we had a good laugh.

It tempered down. By morning 0700, we were snuggled up together in bed, rocking in the sloppy afterswell. We didn’t want to get out of bed, but it was time to get underway.

We went down to check the engine before starting, only to discover an engine mount bolt had vibrated up and the oil dipstick had flown out and water had gotten in. Oil change underway was the solution, while bobbing around on a windless, lackadaisical sea.

Oddly, at this time, more than 50 black footed Albatros came, one by one, landing like sea planes and sitting just behind Althea in the dead calm, all facing us. It was very strange.

We couldn’t remember if Albatross were good luck or bad luck but we were spooked.

Our weatherman warned of another system coming our way. This is probably a good time to give a shout out to our weatherman Mike Shimer who was such an amazing friend throughout this whole deal, keeping us with updated reports through the night, absolutely invaluable. And through our whole trip in fact. It would be more practical to get the Iridium Go for accessibility to predict wind, but it’s just so much more fun to have a Shimer.

We got the engine going, but she was just not making her usual speed. So out came Nigel Calder and we spent the day studying the fuel systems of diesel engines, thinking perhaps we had a clogged fuel line somewhere from the tanks being all shaken up. We tried bleeding the injectors, fiddled with the lift pump, changed the filters, but weren’t able to fix the problem.

I climbed into our bilge and cleaned the mess up as best I could, Patrick sewed the cars back on the mainsail and we were back in business (sailing).

After the low passed, my body was so tired I couldn’t even lift a can. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing, but I was lifting things like superwoman and my muscles weren’t ready for that. Patrick gave me the day off. While I rested in bed, Patrick was busy getting all the sail up.

He “opened the book” with the boomed-out Genoa and we plowed along directly towards our new destination of Elfin Cove. We decided to skip the sightseeing at Yakutat and Icy Bay and get the heck out of the Gulf as soon as possible. With another system predicted, we wanted to get into the relative safety of the Inside Passage.

We were sitting in the cockpit, excited about our incredible speeds of 6 and 7 knots when BAM! We hit something, it felt like a speed bump. But Big!

We looked back and saw a huge whale roll over and spout.

Oh. My. Goodness. We hit a whale.

Entry from the log:

1540: “Bumped a fricken whale I kid u not holy crap!”

We watched the bilges for a while after that, no water. WE LOVE YOU ALTHEA!!

Whales sleep on the surface of the water with their blowholes above the surface.

We probably interrupted some much-needed rest. I really hope that whale is okay.

Made the entrance to Icy Straights early in the morning, and had to wait for a flood tide.

Once we were nestled snugly behind Ron in Elfin Cove, one by one S/V Moorea, S/V Zoutrec and S/V Maple arrived.

So there we were, 5 boats, who a few months ago were sitting in Hanalei together planning our weather windows to get over the high and up to Alaska.

There was dockside dinner and beer drinking and harmonicas on the dock.

I did laundry, and we showered glorious hot showers.

We relaxed in this idyllic little cove town, very reminiscent of Sweet Haven from the Robin Williams version of Popeye, and with all the fun dramas too.

We mingled with the local fishermen, and celebrated again and again with all our sailing friends on the dock, sharing locally caught fish and meat in the form of salmon jerky, bear burgers, regular burgers, salmon sushi, and salmon pesto gnocchi.

We picked up some temporary work, helping to winterize a super awesome lodge where there is always a fresh pot of coffee on the counter, lunch and dinner. King crab, fresh caught shrimp, steak, and more from the incredible Chef Doog.

Our time there ended abruptly. The lodges shut down, the ferry stopped running, the planes stopped flying in, and Elfin Cove turned into a ghost town.

We began the journey to Juneau, where our solid fuel Dickinson heater was waiting for us.

About halfway, we stopped in a little cove called Swanson Harbor.

There were two docks in an otherwise empty bay, separated from the shore about 800’.

It was on this new dock that we made the acquaintance of a wonderful man named Al. Al had it all figured out. He has a bulletproof fishing boat with an aluminum overhead and partial siding, and the drip Diesel stove in his cabin. He works as a commercial fisherman during the summertime, and since the season was winding down, and a storm was rolling in, he was doing as so many people in Alaska do…he was preserving some of his catch for the winter.

And he had everything to do it right on board.

We admired as Al cut salmon filets to the size of small mason jars, smoked the filets, then canned them. Each can filled 2/3 with smoked salmon and 1/3 with raw salmon.

He was so excited about our salted catch from Sand Point, and gave us instructions should we choose to pickle it. He also shared some sea asparagus which he harvested himself, and gave us a few books and pointers on foraging and mushroom hunting in Alaska. Later we saw those same small sized jars of fresh canned salmon in the supermarket for $16.99!

Behind Al was another darling fishing family. Mother, father and two little girls.

Jessica was native Alaskan, and I admired the way she so naturally slung a rifle (shotgun?) over her shoulder to take the girls for a walk onshore. Her oldest daughter Milly, around 8, was a fishing machine. Her and Patrick spent a lot of time fishing on the dock together, catching cod, flounder and sand dabs.

This family spends the summers fishing together in the Inside Passage, and the winters on land. We all enjoyed hanging out with Al on his boat. Milly threw a crab trap in the water and up came 6 or 7 Dungeness Crab. So we even had a crab boil.

One beautiful morning, we all untied and set off in different directions.

We set our course to our new fireplace, which was waiting patiently for us at Air Freight in Juneau.

We decided after extensive googling to dock at Harris Harbor. It is right downtown, walking distance to the grocery store, gym, library, laundromat, thrift shop and a few coffee shops. At this point we were beginning to accept the fact that wintering in Alaska was on the horizon. We looked at the quote in our galley and chuckled,

“Let’s Be Unrealistic Together”.

On the one hand, we “just” had to install the new solid fuel heater and transmission “real quick” before continuing south before the winter arrives.

We looked at all of the projects we had put on the “later” board and decided that since we weren’t in any real rush to get south. Why not stay in Juneau?

Then, our neighbor pointed out the boat on the other side of him. “See that boat over there?” He asked.

We nodded.

“A couple from Florida shipped that boat up here last year. Thought they could last the winter. I asked them if they needed help putting a tarp up. They thought that would be enough (points to a handkerchief of a tarp tied on either side of the boom).

“I don’t know what happened.” He continued. “She complained of his drinking problem, but she got hauled off to jail one night. Last I heard he was back in Florida. No one’s been back to the boat.”

And if that wasn’t enough, we learned that the boat in our slip last year didn’t build a cover. The snow piled up on it, then froze, then it snowed again and it froze again and the owner never shoveled it off.

That boat sunk, right here where I am writing this letter from!

Hmmm……Well……

We love each other.

We want to make it through the winter, Together. With Althea.

So we built a plastic house around our boat, mimicking some of our neighbors as they built theirs. Particularly our neighbor Jerrell.

Jerrell built a perfect PVC frame and wrapped it in fancy snow wicking plastic. He built a toe-rail around his toe-rail and screwed the tarp into it with wooden cleats.

Let us backtrack a moment:

We met a man in San Diego whose old wooden boat had bullet holes in the hull supposedly from her participation in the Dunkirk evacuation in WWII.

We thought that was so cool.

Battle wounds!

So we built the tent very similar to Jerrell, except our ribs aren’t lined up perfectly, and don’t tell Matt Willis but we screwed the tarp right into our existing toe-rail.

Battle wounds!

Now when no-one asks us about the tiny holes in our toe rail we can tell them,

“Oh those little ole things?

That is from when we braved an Alaskan winter, walking a mile to work in the dark, in the ice, in the snow and in the blizzards…”

Fast forward a few weeks, and we are finally getting settled in.

The tarp has been completed.

I got a job at a sweet little café called The Rookery, working 5 days a week from 6:30-10:30am. Which leaves me plenty of time to try and develop a winter hobby like ice skating or snow shoeing or sledding.

Patrick got a job at the ice rink. He’s hoping to be driving the Zamboni by Christmas.

He’s excited to get on the mountain and snowboard on one of the only mountains on the island. Supposedly when you get to the top on a clear day, it is magnificent.

The mountains have snow on the tippy tops already and it is definitely getting cooler and cooler.

There have been a few mornings that the docks were frozen and it was a slippery walk to the parking lot!

Walking around town, there are ginormous ravens which line the sidewalks and bridges, bald eagles who sit on the streetlights, and once we found two baby bears on a staircase!

We love it up here. It is cold, but as long as we have the right clothes on, it’s refreshing to get those deep cold breaths of air.

Some mornings the mountains get a fresh dusting of snow, and the fog hangs around the top the mountains like its painted on, thin waterfalls plummeting 3,500 feet down Mt. Juneau. The docks get icy so we had to get some snow chains for humans which look like soccer cleats but more sharp, and the clip onto the bottom of our boots.

One morning I came outside and my forgotten coffee had turned into a Frappuccino.

Another morning when I put my cup of coffee on the deck, it started to slide off! Ice!

I got to whip around in a local’s car at full speed, making turns and braking on an iced over parking lot with strict instructions not to hit the streetlight (which was right in the middle of the parking lot), slip sliding and spinning out everywhere.

Patrick got to make bottle opener out of a railroad spike at a local homemade metal forge. And we have traded in our black pearls and are sporting fossilized walrus teeth necklaces these days.

When the days are nice, they are so incredibly enjoyed by everyone in the town. People beam and everyone exclaims, “Isn’t it beautiful?! What a beautiful day! This is why we live in Juneau.” Downtown Juneau sits between 2 tall mountains the Gastineau Channel and Douglass Island.

It is a stunningly beautiful city, people and buildings are full of character. The locals feel like they really get to reclaim their downtown in the wintertime because cruise ships and tourism have come to a halt.

Everything is working itself out, we love it up here in Alaska.

I wish I could write shorter emails more frequently but it doesn’t seem to happen that way.

So thanks for reading this novel! Miss you. Hope all is well.

Alyssa and Patrick

NOVEMBER 2021 BUCKET AND CHUCK-IT or What to do when your toilet misbehaves by RICH AND PEGGY CIOLINO

Steve York on November 11, 2021 Member News and Articles

“Bucket and Chuck It”. Westcountry Sail: Merchant Shipping 1840-1960 (1971): The helmsman stands on a grating with his back against two teak rubbing boards on the wheel shelter. To port, the steel shelter houses the lavatory (of the bucket and chuck it variety).

Our family took advantage of schedules that finally lined up so Peggy and I could get out to the Isthmus on Catalina Island and have our daughter and husband, and our son and fiancée, join us for a week of sun and fun. We left Santa Barbara on July 5^th, stopped overnight at Channel Islands Harbor and arrived at the Isthmus the following afternoon. Through a miracle of scheduling and luck we arrived just as the Catalina Express from San Pedro carrying the kids arrived. In this picture below, that’s the Catalina Express arriving at the Isthmus as seen as we approach from a few miles off.

While gathered in the saloon one evening playing a board game our son leaned over to me and asked me “Do you smell something like urine?”. I did and I dreaded something bad but didn’t want to immediately face the consequences of finding a leak in our toilet system that would likely come with a major interruption in what up-to-now had been a stress-free and fun get-together. But, this is boating. After the game came to a reasonable stopping point we packed up the game and I went over to the bilge area where the toilet hoses, macerator, overboard thru-hull valve, and deck pumpout hose are located. The smell was stronger there so I donned rubber gloves and felt around to locate the source of a leak. With my crew standing by for instructions, holding a flashlight, and offering ideas of what to do, I found some cool liquid on the macerator. Before going on let me explain my toilet usage guideline with six adults on board for a week and a 27 gallon holding tank: With nearby access to full bathroom facilities on-shore, just a short dinghy ride away, we use the on-board facility for liquid deposits only, unless of course there is an emergency or midnight need.

The macerator was not only leaking from the input end but had some brown stains on it from other leakage. Also, three of the four screws holding the input end of the macerator in place were loose and pulled out as they were totally corroded through! This was the second macerator installed in our boat since we bought it and both of them had the same problem with corroded screws.

My plan was to first stop the leak, or at least keep it from going into the bilge so as to get through the night. In the morning we could then take the boat over to the main dock and use the pump-out facility to empty the holding tank and drain the hoses, which would essentially stop the leakage. The only way to dump our holding tank is with the macerator and I did not want to run it at all with its leaks, so taking the boat off-shore to dump the holding tank was not an option. We could use the on-shore bathroom facilities for the remainder of our stay.

Our particular installation does not have a shutoff valve, or Y-valve, but uses a Y-hose fitting to route the holding tank waste to the macerator and the deck pump-out. It’s simple but in this situation we couldn’t block the holding tank waste from going to the macerator. I believe this accelerated the corrosion problem with the macerator screws since the holding tank liquid was always in the macerator even if not running. My only choice to deal with this mess until we got home was to try and catch the leaking liquid in plastic bags to be disposed of as necessary. So, with plenty of gloves and plastic bags available, I connected the first bag to the leaky macerator. Here’s what it looked like with a bag connected using duct tape and nylon ty-wraps.

This got us through the night at which time I put a new bag on and took the first bag ashore to empty into a toilet. It held about a pint of liquid. While on shore I learned that the pump-out station was broken and they were not sure when it would be repaired so it looked like we’d have to handle the leak with plastic bags for a couple of days.

Back at the boat we were faced with getting rid of the remaining smell coming from the bilge that had collected the initial leakage from the macerator. Fortunately the level in the bilge was not sufficient to trigger the automatic bilge pump but I did want to get that liquid out. So, after cleaning the bilge area below the macerator with liquid cleaner and paper towels (the leakage had flowed down to the low point of the bilge) we began pumping out the bilge using a manual hand pump into an empty six gallon jerry can. We got a couple of gallons in each of two jerry cans so they’d be easy to carry ashore and dump in the toilet there. I found some hydrogen peroxide at the General Store and flushed out the jerry cans.

Catching the leakage in plastic bags and using the on-shore facilities for a couple of days worked out fine until the kids left and Peggy and I got underway to sail home. While underway we did adopt the time proven and reliable method of “Bucket it and Chuck it” as we made the non-stop 15 hour run to Santa Barbara.

Once home we pumped out the holding tank and hoses, rinsed it all out a couple of times with water, and dug into the mess of replacing the macerator. In the process of installing a new macerator – oh, not the same brand this time – I had to install some new hose and add a Y-valve that can isolate the macerator from the holding tank. The following pictures show the failed macerator side view and an end view that highlights the three empty bolt holes that corroded loose, and the completed new installation. The macerator is in the upper left corner of the photo.