|sail repair in paradise--who wants to swim when they can get all sweaty while wrestling with dacron?|
We’ve heard the story at least a dozen times while out cruising: someone hoists a sail, it fills nicely, then the next thing they know there’s a big pop, a ripping sound, and a whole lot of swearing.
Fortunately for us, we met Jamie from Totem before experiencing this unhappy event for ourselves. When we were all in La Cruz he took a long look at our mainsail and informed us that without a few basic repairs we’d be flying scraps of fabric within the year. You should listen when someone gives you advice like that… So a few hours later, a period which included a lot of swearing at the sewing machine, the main was fixed back up and good to go for the summer.
Thanks to Jamie though we now have a routine. EVERY time we hoist the sail we look it over carefully—concentrating on the high stress areas. If we see something untoward (like we did while in Bay of LA)—a tear, broken stitching at a batten pocket, excessive fraying—the sail comes down and the cursed machine comes out.
|washing (and drying) a spinnaker takes space|
The next step in our routine is to take advantage of water when we’re at docks and wash the sails. The build-up of salt and dirt accelerates the speed that sails wear out at. And because the things are freaking expensive—we’d like ours to last.
Washing also gives us a chance to inspect the sails up close and personal—something we try to do at least twice a year. And it makes you sort of noticable. So now everyone in the marina at Guaymas knows I'm real.