Day Sails

I have to admit, that second day sail was a lot better than the first sail we had on the Sue. With the exception of the mouth of the Channel heading out into the Gulf of Mexico (which always seemed to be a conglomerate of confused seas and breaking waves due to the two rocky jetties on either side), it really was one of those kick back in the cockpit with the sun high and the music playing kind of sail.. 

    South Padre Island from the Gulf of Mexico

The sun was glorious on that second sail. On the first sail, we actually went out on a fairly cloudy and a little too much windy day. If I recall correctly, it wasn't so much the Sue dipping in all directions, but more of the rise and fall from bow to stern. I'm used to that motion now, but it was a bit disconcerting on my very first time out on a sailboat. Being the landlubber I was at the time, I stayed seated in the cockpit on that first sail. Every time I tried to stand, I'd lose my balance. Geez, what a wimp I was! Of course, now I can scurry around on deck in 1-3 foot swells, but not back when we first purchased the Sue.
Why do I always call her "the Sue"? Basically, for two reasons - that is her name now, and it is the name I will always associate to her; and, I just plain did not like the name Grey Bird. When we had talked about re-naming her, I was two hundred percent behind that idea!

The mouth of the channel, looking at the north jetty toward SPI

So, back to that second day sail. After Keith had completely changed out ALL the rigging (except the stays - they needed it, but I think that came later), it most definitely was a different experience taking her out. I can still see the grin (and the pleased expression) on Keith's face as he unfurled that genoa and raised the main, tacking throughout the afternoon - and giving me lessons at the same time. We made it a point thereafter to always practice our tacking when out on a day sail. I at the helm and Keith working the sails. I have to laugh as I think back on that one. It took a while for us to synchronize our actions for tacking. I would turn the wheel too quickly and set the sails in irons quite a number of times before we got it right. Keith would scramble to the helm to get the Sue back in position to catch that wind in her sails.
So, it took me a while on the artistry of tacking, but what Keith was impressed with was my ability to hold the Sue on the wind point. To this day, I don't quite yet understand the mechanics of it. It's just a feel I have for keeping the Sue's sails full.

One of the things I loved about Port Isabel was all of the old Shrimp Boats.

I thought it gave a unique look and feel to the marina but some

saw it as an eyesore. A few years later a wrecking barge came through and 

demolished a great many of them. 

Our day sails in Port Isabel were actually few and far between due to a number of things; our jobs, working on the boat, and day to day business that occasionally takes up a lot of home time. Looking back at that time now, I wish we had taken more time for those day sails. With the exception of a few minor mishaps, like losing helm control getting back into our slip (that's a story for another blog post down the line) or having the engine overheat, those sails were relaxing after a couple of months or so driving coast to coast. 
I intended to write this post on my memories of moving onto Moonlight Sue and the experience of living aboard a boat for a landlubber such as I was at the time. Keith's previous post of the second outing brought back some good memories though, so I will have to write about the move in the next post (unless something Keith writes brings back another flood of memories!).

The Laguna Madre from South Padre Island had the most 

beautiful sunsets I had ever seen in my life - up to that time

anyway.

   

Improving the Sail

I was truly amazed. I mean, our first sail a total disaster! Did I, in my reverie in buying a potentially great boat, get a lemon?  OK, Keith, get a grip. Get up there and analyze what the problem was then FIX IT! How the hell Paul, the previous owner, ever sailed like this was beyond me, but I wasn't ready for this. So,when we went back on the road I ordered 60 feet of 5/8" 12 braid rope to replace the 3/4" granny knotted genoa sheets.
We got back to Port Isabel about three weeks later. I went to the marina office and there was a box with my name on it. Wow!, A Christmas present! I opened the box and there it was - 120 feet of 5/8" 12 braid rope. After marveling the wonder of all this new rope for a few minutes, I took it all back to the boat and VERY carefully (and accurately) laid it out on the dock and cut it into 2 even pieces with a kitchen knife. Next, I CUT (yes, cut) the old sheets off the genoa, as trying to untie the granny knots proved futile. 
Now, being on the road for weeks at a time gives one a lot of time to read and  I was totally immersed in the sailing thing.  I was reading about everything from knots to navigation. Now it was time to tie my first "knautical  knot". Lets see, this end over that loop and then through the clew ring and then under the loop and around the back of this part of the rope then .. . look at the book again . . . no, this goes OVER this end and . . . this looks really easy in the book! ! The clew of the genoa flapping in the wind didn't help either. OK, so I was getting a little taste of how a minor repair (or upgrade) on a boat could turn into a major task. 
After about a hour of wrestling with the clew of this uncooperative sail, I got two pretty nice bowlins into the sail and reeved the two sheets through the blocks and back to the genoa sheet winches. 
With the exasperation of my task slowly turning into excitement, I announced to Carol that it was time for our second sail. I just had to know if my fix would really solve the problem. 
This time we took a different route out to open water, which proved to be a lot less stressful, but took a little longer than the other way. Less stress was becoming more appealing than low water. Once we were beyond the Santiago Pass jetties and approaching the inner buoys, came the moment of truth. This would prove whether I was a real sailor to Carol (and myself), or just a cluge making up excuses for my inability to sail.
I quickly uncleated the fors'l control line and pulled our new $140 sheets and watched as the sail took the wind. I set her on a close haul and as the wind was running about 12 to 14 knots, I let her run there a few minutes while I contemplated  a tack to starboard.
"Ready about". Ready! Hard a'lee" I snapped the helm over to starboard and at the same time yanked the port sheet out of the self tailing winch while I started pulling the starboard sheet in, at the same time maintaining control of the helm. As the genoa came across the deck, I quickly wound the starboard line on the winch, set it in the self  tailer and sheeted in until the sail was set the way I wanted. Grey Bird settled in to her new tack, and as I  set the helm on her new course, a whole new wave of awe overtook me. Although a bit rusty in tacking maneuvers, I did it. My suspicion about the granny knots in the genoa clew (and subsequent fix) worked. 
     We had a wonderful sail that afternoon, and I tacked several more times with no hang ups in the sail. I could see that I needed a lot more practice, but was confident I would improve each time I went out. The best part was that I was able to show Carol that I was not just boasting, but really did know how to sail. I think she was greatly relieved..

Calmer seas and company for our second day sail.

Grey Bird

The "original look" of the mast.

Even the cockpit will eventually get a makeover