Reclaiming a Sail 2007 Over the past few years I’ve lost a sail. I don’t have many, so it was easy to miss. For several decades and circumnavigations I’ve had three sail boats; fully battened mainsail, furling jib, and cruising spinnaker. What I’ve come to realize is that recently I haven’t been setting the cruising spinnaker very often. While this might be due to old age or sheer laziness, I prefer to attribute it to experience. In any event, it is because I sail alone. Using snuffer sleeves, setting a spinnaker is not a problem. The problem is getting the sail down when the wind quickly increases to 20 knots. I’ve always had boats that in 15 knots of wind have been doing nearly hull-speed under jib and main and didn’t need a spinnaker. So for me the cruising spinnaker is a light air sail and, usually, a day light sail. If I were always at the tiller this would not be so; but I almost never am. Offshore the Monitor vane steers, spelled occasionally in light air by a tiller pilot. All self-steering devices are reactive. They can’t see an approaching wind shift or increase. And all self-steering devices I’ve ever used ‘confuse’ a sudden increase in wind speed with a change in wind direction and take time to adjust to the changed conditions. On my boats an unanticpated wind increase with spinnaker flying can result in yawing and broaching. I’m 66 now, but the fact is I’ve never liked dancing around a wild foredeck getting a spinnaker down, even with a snuffer sock, and I’ve done so often enough so that I’ve become wary. Perhaps too wary. I don’t set the spinnaker unless I’m confident the wind isn't going to increase for several hours, and I seldom leave it up at night, when awakening as the boat rounds up out of control is even less fun than during the day. This may raise the question: why set a spinnaker at all? And the answers are that I don’t like to power; sometimes it is the right sail; and the quality of the experience. Although perhaps that is just saying the same thing three times. In light winds many people simply turn on their engine. While daysailing if necessary to get to the next anchorage before sunset I do too. But not at sea. I have an auxiliary engine, not an auxiliary mast. And where there are trade-offs between performance under power or under sail, I have always favored sail. Age doesn’t mean you have to abandon your standards. It may mean that you should hang on to them even more tightly for as long as you can. So for the past year I’ve been trying to find a better way to continue to sail up to mine. A possible solution appeared to be to set a light air sail on gennaker furling gear. If it worked, I reasoned, the sail could be furled almost instantly from the cockpit when it overpowered the self-steering. I started asking around, but could find no one who had actually used a gennaker furler. So I paid my money to find out for myself. Of the several brands, I choose Facnor for no very good reason. Probably I happened to see the right ad at the right time. When the box arrived I found that for $1400 I had received a head swivel and a drum with a snap shackle. There were also two instruction cards, two thimbles whose purpose I did not initially understand, an allen wrench, and a small bottle of Loctite. From the beginning, I intended to try something unusual and use the gennaker furler inside the headstay rather than outside. There is no room to install a bowsprit on THE HAWKE OF TUONELA without completely reworking my anchoring system; and having to go forward and hang over the pulpit to remove the furled gennaker in rough conditions would be more trouble than dousing a sail with a snuffer bag. I waited until I was back on the boat to make some final decisions and to obtain three remaining parts for my experiment. The first decision was the point of deck attachment of the furling drum. An obvious possibility was a track on the foredeck used in THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s racing days for staysails, but I found that the furling drum snap shackle fits around the pin of the anchor chain stopper, which is already re-enforced with a backing pad. A tentative lower attachment found, I considered the upper. My spinnaker halyard exits the mast two feet below the masthead, goes up to a block on a bale at the masthead, then down to deck. I considered using the spinnaker halyard after removing the masthead block and running it directly down from its exit box. In time I expect I will. But I wanted to make as few changes as possible to the boat in the early stages of an experiment that might not work. So I decided to use the spare jib halyard, which is, as are all my halyards, low stretch Technora. In order to keep this from catching on the jib furling gear and to reduce sideways chaff, I had the rigger install a spring loaded block on the mast just below the spinnaker exit box. I also had the rigger splice an 52’ long endless line for me. This left only the sail itself. I took my cruising spinnaker to the local sailmaker and explained what I was trying to do. A couple of days later I had a re-cut sail with a re-enforced luff and aluminum tack and head fittings to fit the slots on the furling gear. When I saw them I understood the purpose of the thimbles that had come with the gear. I’ll use them on the next sail. Luff tension is crucial in gennaker furling, which is one reason for a low-stretch halyard. Another is that on two occasions such halyards have probably saved my mast when standing rigging was damaged. Different sailmakers use different methods to achieve such tension. My re-cut sail has a tape with two internal low stretch cords an inch apart. I was ready to go sailing. But the weather wasn’t. That it rains in New Zealand is not news. The series of lows that marched across the Tasman was not unusual, but I was impatient. Since returning to THE HAWKE OF TUONELA four weeks earlier in mid-August, I had been sailing for exactly one hour. Based on what I had spent on the boat during that period, sailing is an expensive past time. That isn’t news either. But a cost per hour of more than $5,000 does seem excessive. Finally a break came, and I dropped my mooring and powered north. Once in the open part of the bay, with steady 8 knots of wind and few other boats around, I carried the sail and gennaker furler up on deck, hooked it up, and hoisted the sail, which had to be set flying this first time. I sheeted in and admired the shape the sailmaker had managed to preserve. Although the re-cut sail is smaller than optimum, with the main already set, the boat was sailing well on a broad reach. Time to try to furl. Standing in the cockpit next to the companionway, I pulled on the endless line. The sail rolled in smoothly and almost effortlessly. When I dropped the endless line and pulled on the sheet, I got a surprise. The sail rolled out without pulling on the endless line. Further experimentation established that furling the sail is a one-hand operation. I had thought it would be necessary to keep tension on both sides of the endless line, but it isn’t. And when there is no tension on the line, although it remains near the drum, there is no friction and it is not pulled. Facnor has done some excellent engineering and design work. With the wind from the north, I let the boat continue beam reaching east, thinking that if it held I would round Cape Brett and continue south to the anchorage at Whangamumu. Almost as soon as I made this decision, the wind backed ninety degrees and headed us. The spinnaker collapsed, and I furled it for the first time for real. All from the cockpit. All just as I had envisioned. A week and several fronts passed before I could go sailing again. After anchoring overnight at Roberton Island, I set the spinnaker in very light wind for the run back to my mooring. The breeze never rose above seven knots and was usually less. The slight swell would have rolled the wind out of the furling jib, but the spinnaker held its shape and kept us moving. I gybed a few times, and even tacked it once when a swirl from a hillside briefly headed us. It was a Sunday and several other boats were on the water, either under power or almost motionless. Without the gennaker furling gear I would have been too. Two minor glitches were instructive. The first came when I furled the sail for what I expected to be the last time, and felt friction. Once the sail was in and the engine on, I went forward and found that the set screws securing the guide were loose. These are not permanently fixed at the factory so that the user can align the guide to suit his boat. I had not planned to do so until I had used the furler more, but I Loctited them later that afternoon. The other glitch was that I left the furled gennaker in place while I returned to the mooring, but did not secure the endless line. When I turned up into the wind to pick up my mooring, the sail unfurled. I used to pride myself on being able to pick up a mooring under sail, but this is not the way. Fortunately no other boats were near, so I bore off into open water, furled the gennaker, cleated the endless line, and made a second more successful approach. Lesson learned. While further refinement is expected and I reserve final judgement until I’ve made a few ocean passages with the gennaker furler, thus far I consider the experiment an unqualified success. I’ve already placed an order for a full size gennaker. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is again a three-sail boat.

Reclaiming a Sail

2007

Over the past few years I’ve lost a sail. I don’t have many, so it was easy to miss.

For several decades and circumnavigations I’ve had three sail boats; fully battened mainsail, furling jib, and cruising spinnaker.

What I’ve come to realize is that recently I haven’t been setting the cruising spinnaker very often. While this might be due to old age or sheer laziness, I prefer to attribute it to experience. In any event, it is because I sail alone.

Using snuffer sleeves, setting a spinnaker is not a problem. The problem is getting the sail down when the wind quickly increases to 20 knots.

I’ve always had boats that in 15 knots of wind have been doing nearly hull-speed under jib and main and didn’t need a spinnaker. So for me the cruising spinnaker is a light air sail and, usually, a day light sail.

If I were always at the tiller this would not be so; but I almost never am. Offshore the Monitor vane steers, spelled occasionally in light air by a tiller pilot.

All self-steering devices are reactive. They can’t see an approaching wind shift or increase. And all self-steering devices I’ve ever used ‘confuse’ a sudden increase in wind speed with a change in wind direction and take time to adjust to the changed conditions.

On my boats an unanticpated wind increase with spinnaker flying can result in yawing and broaching. I’m 66 now, but the fact is I’ve never liked dancing around a wild foredeck getting a spinnaker down, even with a snuffer sock, and I’ve done so often enough so that I’ve become wary. Perhaps too wary. I don’t set the spinnaker unless I’m confident the wind isn't going to increase for several hours, and I seldom leave it up at night, when awakening as the boat rounds up out of control is even less fun than during the day.

This may raise the question: why set a spinnaker at all? And the answers are that I don’t like to power; sometimes it is the right sail; and the quality of the experience. Although perhaps that is just saying the same thing three times.

In light winds many people simply turn on their engine. While daysailing if necessary to get to the next anchorage before sunset I do too. But not at sea. I have an auxiliary engine, not an auxiliary mast. And where there are trade-offs between performance under power or under sail, I have always favored sail. Age doesn’t mean you have to abandon your standards. It may mean that you should hang on to them even more tightly for as long as you can. So for the past year I’ve been trying to find a better way to continue to sail up to mine.

A possible solution appeared to be to set a light air sail on gennaker furling gear. If it worked, I reasoned, the sail could be furled almost instantly from the cockpit when it overpowered the self-steering. I started asking around, but could find no one who had actually used a gennaker furler. So I paid my money to find out for myself.

Of the several brands, I choose Facnor for no very good reason. Probably I happened to see the right ad at the right time.

When the box arrived I found that for $1400 I had received a head swivel and a drum with a snap shackle. There were also two instruction cards, two thimbles whose purpose I did not initially understand, an allen wrench, and a small bottle of Loctite.

From the beginning, I intended to try something unusual and use the gennaker furler inside the headstay rather than outside. There is no room to install a bowsprit on THE HAWKE OF TUONELA without completely reworking my anchoring system; and having to go forward and hang over the pulpit to remove the furled gennaker in rough conditions would be more trouble than dousing a sail with a snuffer bag.

I waited until I was back on the boat to make some final decisions and to obtain three remaining parts for my experiment.

The first decision was the point of deck attachment of the furling drum. An obvious possibility was a track on the foredeck used in THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s racing days for staysails, but I found that the furling drum snap shackle fits around the pin of the anchor chain stopper, which is already re-enforced with a backing pad.

A tentative lower attachment found, I considered the upper.

My spinnaker halyard exits the mast two feet below the masthead, goes up to a block on a bale at the masthead, then down to deck. I considered using the spinnaker halyard after removing the masthead block and running it directly down from its exit box. In time I expect I will. But I wanted to make as few changes as possible to the boat in the early stages of an experiment that might not work. So I decided to use the spare jib halyard, which is, as are all my halyards, low stretch Technora. In order to keep this from catching on the jib furling gear and to reduce sideways chaff, I had the rigger install a spring loaded block on the mast just below the spinnaker exit box.

I also had the rigger splice an 52’ long endless line for me.

This left only the sail itself. I took my cruising spinnaker to the local sailmaker and explained what I was trying to do. A couple of days later I had a re-cut sail with a re-enforced luff and aluminum tack and head fittings to fit the slots on the furling gear. When I saw them I understood the purpose of the thimbles that had come with the gear. I’ll use them on the next sail.

Luff tension is crucial in gennaker furling, which is one reason for a low-stretch halyard. Another is that on two occasions such halyards have probably saved my mast when standing rigging was damaged. Different sailmakers use different methods to achieve such tension. My re-cut sail has a tape with two internal low stretch cords an inch apart. I was ready to go sailing.

But the weather wasn’t.

That it rains in New Zealand is not news. The series of lows that marched across the Tasman was not unusual, but I was impatient. Since returning to THE HAWKE OF TUONELA four weeks earlier in mid-August, I had been sailing for exactly one hour. Based on what I had spent on the boat during that period, sailing is an expensive past time. That isn’t news either. But a cost per hour of more than $5,000 does seem excessive.

Finally a break came, and I dropped my mooring and powered north.

Once in the open part of the bay, with steady 8 knots of wind and few other boats around, I carried the sail and gennaker furler up on deck, hooked it up, and hoisted the sail, which had to be set flying this first time.

I sheeted in and admired the shape the sailmaker had managed to preserve. Although the re-cut sail is smaller than optimum, with the main already set, the boat was sailing well on a broad reach.

Time to try to furl. Standing in the cockpit next to the companionway, I pulled on the endless line. The sail rolled in smoothly and almost effortlessly. When I dropped the endless line and pulled on the sheet, I got a surprise. The sail rolled out without pulling on the endless line.

Further experimentation established that furling the sail is a one-hand operation. I had thought it would be necessary to keep tension on both sides of the endless line, but it isn’t. And when there is no tension on the line, although it remains near the drum, there is no friction and it is not pulled. Facnor has done some excellent engineering and design work.

With the wind from the north, I let the boat continue beam reaching east, thinking that if it held I would round Cape Brett and continue south to the anchorage at Whangamumu. Almost as soon as I made this decision, the wind backed ninety degrees and headed us. The spinnaker collapsed, and I furled it for the first time for real. All from the cockpit. All just as I had envisioned.

A week and several fronts passed before I could go sailing again.

After anchoring overnight at Roberton Island, I set the spinnaker in very light wind for the run back to my mooring.

The breeze never rose above seven knots and was usually less. The slight swell would have rolled the wind out of the furling jib, but the spinnaker held its shape and kept us moving. I gybed a few times, and even tacked it once when a swirl from a hillside briefly headed us.

It was a Sunday and several other boats were on the water, either under power or almost motionless. Without the gennaker furling gear I would have been too.

Two minor glitches were instructive.

The first came when I furled the sail for what I expected to be the last time, and felt friction.

Once the sail was in and the engine on, I went forward and found that the set screws securing the guide were loose. These are not permanently fixed at the factory so that the user can align the guide to suit his boat. I had not planned to do so until I had used the furler more, but I Loctited them later that afternoon.

The other glitch was that I left the furled gennaker in place while I returned to the mooring, but did not secure the endless line.

When I turned up into the wind to pick up my mooring, the sail unfurled. I used to pride myself on being able to pick up a mooring under sail, but this is not the way.

Fortunately no other boats were near, so I bore off into open water, furled the gennaker, cleated the endless line, and made a second more successful approach.

Lesson learned.

While further refinement is expected and I reserve final judgement until I’ve made a few ocean passages with the gennaker furler, thus far I consider the experiment an unqualified success. I’ve already placed an order for a full size gennaker.

THE HAWKE OF TUONELA is again a three-sail boat.