Failed Chainplate--for folks who like the close up shots...

When an okay looking chainplate like this one....

has a crack like this hidden in the rusty areas or under the fittings,

you can end up with something that looks like this.

Which results in this very unhappy looking experience.

Dismasted!!

Thankfully—not us.

But whenever a wounded boat limps into harbour, every boater tends to pause and imagine the what-ifs…

The story of this trimaran is a bit of a sad one. The boat is owned by a long-time Baja sailor. He decided that this was the year to sell it. He’s got a place on land. And as everyone knows, boats are a heck of a lot of work--especially if you’re a single hander on a budget and your boat is getting on in years.

Enter the family with a dream and a pile of cash in hand.

Old plywood trimarans are a favourite within a subset of sailors--mainly because they’re cheap do-it-yourself craft that (if you get lucky and get a good one) can jumpstart you into the cruising life.

The trick with buying a cheap DIY boat though is to go into the deal with your eyes wide open. Unfortunately a lot of people who buy the cheap boats are actually people trying to buy the cruising dream with out paying the full price and without a full concept of what it really takes. And in the case of this boat, the family that came to buy it decided to save money by not having the boat surveyed. The fellow buying the boat felt he knew enough about boats to survey it himself.

 There are places to save money with a boat--but most people agree the survey isn't one. I know some very skilled and hugely knowledgeable boaters who would never survey a boat for themselves. It's too fraught. You're too emotionally involved right from the outset. It's too easy to overlook the obvious when you want a deal to work out.

one of the chainplates--at least two have cracks like this

But sometimes Neptune looks out for innocents. Because the owner put off sealing the deal. He wanted one last sail on his old boat before he decided if he was really ready to part with it.

So they all set out this morning. They were headed on an overnight passage to Escondido. Once they got in he would sell her. But five miles out the wind piped up. The old boat was making seven-eight knots. Then the starboard shroud chainplate came apart and the mast came down.

Fortunately it happened close to shore—before they hit the larger seas and stronger winds. And before night fell. No one was hurt and with careful actions they saved the sails. Happily the singlehander wasn’t on his own, and luckily for the family their nest egg and sailing dream isn’t currently in pieces.

But hurt boats suck.

Up the Mast Without a...

I mentioned before that we still have stuff to do before we start our off-shore trip down to San Francisco then onward to Mexico in the next few weeks. This is pretty typical – most boats are a work in progress. And the cliché, that cruising is nothing more than fixing your boat in exotic places, is one that was no doubt penned by some puzzled inhabitant of a lovely South Seas Island who couldn’t understand why boaters would come into harbour, climb into their engine compartments, swear loudly for a while, zoom into shore to pick up parts flown in at great expense and then leave on the next tide – never seeing anything beyond the hardware store and the post office….

The thing is it isn't that much of a hardship, being anchored in a gorgeous cove while needing to, say, go up the mast to-

1) Install mast steps

2) Replace a broken windvane

3) Put a new light bulb in the masthead light

Sure, it would be nicer to lounge on the foredeck sipping a drink while reading a novel, or kayak to one of those little rocky islets that seems to whisper secrets and call to be explored. But in the scheme of things a little foray up the mast is better than many of the alternatives.

Unless you’re the guy going up the mast and I’m the person getting you there.

On little Ceilydh, a trip up the mast was accomplished the old fashioned way: One person volunteered to go up and see the view (I’ll skip that trip I'm good with seeing the photos, thanks!) another person cranked the winch and a 3^rd helper kept an eye on the person going up while tailing (holding) the rope.

On new Ceilydh, Ev decided to simplify things and dispense with the need for a helper. The halyard now leads to the anchor windlass and with the flick of a button I can send him up the mast while tailing the line with my other hand.

The problem is I’m not good at multitasking and the button I need to flick is really easy to mess up when I'm looking upward. So I started Ev up, then in an effort to stop the windlass and check on him, I flicked the button to the to down position, then got flustered by my error and sent him back to up, then down, then stopped, then up and then the windlass (which has enough oomph to lift a large waterlogged log off the bottom) started to dispair at my indecision and popped a breaker.

Eventually I got him to the top. The very top. Which if you’ve ever been up a mast you’ll know was a bit beyond where he should be… And then he began the repairs.

1) Mast steps on

2) Light bulb turned out to be the wrong size for the fixture, which turned out to be made by a company that should have nothing to do with electronics.

3) Evan was now too queasy to install windvane.

We repeated the exercise the next morning and now have two out of three tasks complete and the knowledge that we have a couple more new ones to do.

Fortunately we’re in a beautiful calm anchorage and the end of a long fjord. So much better than a boatyard… Unless you’re Evan.