We are in a land of magical boats.
Next to us on the dock is Courageous, which won the Americas Cup in 1974 and 1977, the latter with Ted Turner at the helm. She is only one of three boats to successfully defend the Cup twice. Below, I have catalogued our pictures of this land in a postscript, except for one that is immediately below.
Across the dock from us is a boat called Apache, which I would guess is about 140 feet long – it is so big that I think one could buy a condominium in it – we have posted a picture but you cannot really imagine its scale.
Lined up and down the docks are Hinckley yachts, both power and sail. Scattered among the Hinckleys are megayachts, whose provenance I can only guess. Yesterday, we saw one Hinckley leaving the harbor that is cleverly named “Just Add Water” – this boat was owned by a late heiress of Campbell’s Soup, and its color scheme matches the company’s soup cans. Our friend here, Jay, told us that one private yacht came in recently and took on 40,000 gallons of diesel. The bill was about $140,000 for the diesel alone and it took four tanker trucks to fuel the boat. Then food trucks lined up for provisioning; followed by a garbage truck and a sewage pumpout truck.
Yesterday, while I was writing this blog, they dropped another Americas Cup winner, New Zealand into the water. I took pictures like a voyeur. If the crew of Courageous had been even slightly friendly (they were not), I would have asked for a tour, but they weren’t. If Lindsay (our daughter) had been here, I am sure it would have been a different story.
There are 6 Americas Cup winners here. I have not found all of them, but I have no doubt they are present. Before I leave, I will find them and include pictures.
By now, you are likely wondering where Sirius is. A fair question. We find ourselves in the Hinckley Yacht yard in Portsmouth, RI. The yard itself is nothing special, unless you appreciate a collection of skilled craftsman, state of the art equipment, and a service culture that is truly impressive. If you prefer a swimming pool, a gourmet restaurant or T-shirt store, then it is surely not your place. But if you pull in needing some repairs and wanting quality work, then you could not find a better place. Much as I like the Jabin’s yard in Annapolis, this place trumps it – sorry Rod. They even have a larger Travelift to hoist these massive boats out of the water.
We sorely needed such a place. We had been limping along for about 10 days with a compromised refrigeration system that threatened the frozen tuna steaks that remained from my heroic fishing exploits off Block Island (I will secure every part of that fish until we can finish eating it), we had developed a jam in the windlass that prevented us from using our anchor, we saw an alarming drop in oil pressure in our engine according to the oil pressure gauge, and so on. We also needed to service our generator. In short, we needed something like the Hinckley yard to give us peace of mind and shore up Sirius.
My memory is a little fuzzy about how long ago these various maladies began, other than the oil pressure gauge, which I remember vividly as occurring several hours into our trip from Nantucket to Westport, MA. Just as we were fighting the tide past Woods Hole, we saw the oil pressure needle dive down on our gauge. We stopped the engine, sailed for a little while, so I could check the oil level, which I found to be a little low, so I added a bit of oil to encourage higher oil pressure.
The one rock in our boating life with Sirius has been that big Yanmar engine; it has been so reliable and constant, like a third crew member. So, it was a shock to think it might act up on us. Having added oil, we motored through Quicks Hole against the tide, which I had not planned to do, but the reward was that once through it, we could give the engine a rest, enjoy a favorable tide and sail most of the way to Westport. From there (Westport will be a separate post), we traveled on to Newport, taking a slip that was located right in the heart of Newport’s thriving harbor scene. We stayed two nights, and spent our first full day . . . changing the oil!
By then, our fridge was acting up. That is a technology that is a total mystery to us; we had no idea where to start on self-help, so we started looking for someone to help us -- good luck on that in the height of Newport boating season. Insult followed when, days later, our anchor chain jammed into the windlass. It is interesting how these things affect your mental state and eventually, like the boat, you begin to feel compromised yourself, just like the boat. Some systems are a bigger hurt on my psyche, and the windlass and the engine are among them. This must be a male thing because I think Jae was more concerned about the refrigerator and the black goop on the transom deck that was making black stains on the deck and ruining my shorts every time I sat down on the transom to fool with the dinghy.
In short, these failures of these “male” boat systems impinged on my male need to “run the boat.” With the fresh water system compromised, the oil pressure low and angst about frozen tuna steaks thawing, I was working to keep my cool. The final pain came on a sail down to Dutch Harbor, on the same day as the chain jam, when our headsail developed a gaping tear in its middle. We limped into Dutch Harbor, feeling thoroughly compromised, ready for [un]happy hour. But the buoyant spirits of the crews on the other cruising boats brought us back around, and Quantum Sails promised to take the sail early in the morning and immediately evaluate it for possible repair. We were absorbing and working around even these problems.
The next day we departed for Bristol with plenty of wind but no headsail and no ability to anchor; we had reserved a mooring in Bristol, but what if that somehow fell apart? Jae unsuccessfully tried to arrange for assistance from anyone skilled in marine refrigeration systems. They had every explanation about why they could not help.
I was depressed about the chain jam, feeling I should have done something differently. I was mentally prepared to disassemble the windlass because I saw no alternative and thought of it was a good “learning” experience for some future time when we are in a remote place and I have no one to rely upon for the fix. It seemed this was something I should be able to fix. But, rather than step up to that challenge, however, I had one more avoidance strategy – to text my friend Jay who had been the CEO of the windlass manufacturer, Maxwell, and ask him if he had any idea who could help us. I had not been in touch with Jay for a few years, but we had played tennis regularly and sailed together in Annapolis. He knows a lot about Maxwell windlasses.
And that text led us to the land of magical boats. Jay, it turns out, had just taken a job at Hinckley in Portsmouth. He was only a few miles away and offered the yard’s services with open arms. When I asked what systems they work on, e.g. a specific type of marine refrigeration system, he replied “we work on everything.” And indeed, they do.
Before we could get to Hinckley, of course we had to have a last scare in the East Greenwich harbor. That morning, we woke full of expectation that Hinckley would put us back together again. But, when we put the engine in gear and dropped off our mooring lines, our engine shrieked. This was a brand new, very disturbing noise that we had not heard in the 9 years we have owned the boat. Since it was very calm that morning and we were already off the mooring, we limped over to the fuel dock, without much shrieking, to take on fuel while I thought about what to do. Cooling water was coming out the exhaust, the engine temperature was fine and the oil pressure was perfect. What could it be? These three inquiries exhausted my very limited mechanical diagnostic repertoire. Then, it dawned on me that this noise sounded like a belt slipping on a car. So, I opened the engine compartment and checked the tension of the alternator belts. They were loose. Could it be so simple?
While Jae supervised adding fuel to our tanks, I worked on tightening the belts. Of course, my first effort resulted in loosening them, but that is because the bolts that tighten the belts work in a counter-intuitive fashion. I already knew that, but of course in my half-assed mechanical fashion, I had to do it wrong first before I could do it right. I never swore, cursed or got upset; I have accepted my mechanical failings and I know my path in these matters will always be a jagged one. The great reward here was that tightening the belts worked. No more shrieking. We tooled out of East Greenwich with normal engine noise, lots of diesel and some overcooked confidence in our problem solving capabilities. I am sure we will be knocked down again, in the words of Jerry Garcia, “like a bowling pin.” But Monday, we weren’t thinking about that at all.
This causes me to reflect on boat economics. We are now two days at the yard. The service is terrific and nearly all that ails us has been fixed. Thus, our refrigeration system is working like a charm; our generator is serviced and ready to work for many more hours of work; the stuffing box has been tightened to ensure no leaks into the boat; the miscreant water pump is now in a box somewhere in the bottom of the boat and its replacement is doing just fine; the decking on the transom is no longer bleeding black goop all over the boat; the canvas covering the cockpit is in rehab and coming back on the boat later today; the technician is now connecting our chartplotter to the autopilot, which will help on the trip home and I hope we are going to get a new mechanical oil pressure gauge today so that we can know the true oil pressure and not panic when our electronic gauge sends erratic readings, as Yanmar gauges apparently are wont to do. That might not even be the whole list. The high quality of service causes one not to think about the cost; this is a rule that has governed my thinking in years of personal service as a lawyer. In my view, it is a universal truth; top notch service is the most important thing to a customer.
But all of this does cost money. Fortunately we are not paying for this beautiful, wide slip because Jay has arranged us to stay here free. And it does not appear that the hourly charges for the work are any greater than Annapolis, so we have indulged ourselves in taking advantage of the fact that everything is located here and easily accessed. I have a strong belief that, having made the investment in this boat over many years and getting the systems working, we cannot limp along any more than necessary. For example, we would never have gotten a boat without refrigeration. We once had such a boat and we were always looking for block ice and worrying about food spoiling. I don’t want to relive those days and I am willing to pay to avoid them.
Incidentally, boat owners know that the word “boat” is really an acronym for “Bring Out Another Thousand,” which is also referred to as a boat unit. While I don’t want to expend boat units, I believe that we are tuning her up for the next trip, that these expenses are necessary and that their pace will decrease (the last one is really foolish, I know).
Here in the land of magical boats, there is assiduous attention to detail and constant varnishing of the lovely teak finishes on the Hinckleys so that even if the hourly rates do not differ from elsewhere, the acronym here might have another “T” – “BOATT”. Fortunately, we are only here for a few days and do not have a BOATT.
Postscript
In looking at my Iphone pictures, I am a little disappointed in myself. I could have taken better pictures. Well, here it is.
This is Courageous. It left the day after we arrived. Before leaving, 4 young men loaded about 10 sails aboard, cases of beer, water and gatorade, boxes of wine, but no food that we saw.
Here is New Zealand, which was dropped in the water the day we arrived. It left that day.
This is a picture of Defender. Wherever Courageous and New Zealand were going, Defender was not a part of it.
Jay said there are 6 Americas Cup boats in the yard, but I could only find three and I walked everywhere. We did see another one sailing out of Newport Harbor as we entered on Aug. 10. Lindsay took a picture:
Next boat is Inukchuk, supposedly registered in the Marshall Islands. They took its mast off with a construction crane. It was enormous. It is a charter boat, about 108 feet long, but I paced it off at around 150 feet.
Here is another random, beautiful sailboat, also with Marshall Islands registry.
And this boat has a retractable shaft and prop. I have never heard of such a thing. The prop looked rather small, so I am not sure how powerful the engine could be. This is the keel, perhaps the longest I have seen.
This boat, Islander, must be a one-off design. I could not find any information about it online. It is a ketch, beautifully kept and enormous. I could not pace it off to guess at size. Check out the aft boarding platform. Pretty luxurious.
Here is a row of Hinckleys. They were all over the place. You almost started to take them for granted.
There were also plenty of huge motoryachts. Here are a few.
We were not the smallest boat in the harbor, though. Along one wall was a collection of smaller, more modest boats. I think these were staff boats because the electrician who helped us with one project pointed out his small sailboat out to me along that wall. I am guessing Hinckley must give the staff a concession on the marina cost so they can keep their boats there. Another point in Hinckley’s favor, if I am correct.
And finally, here is a partially sunken tugboat that is just outside the bulkhead of the harbor. It is obviously quite a counterpoint to what lies inside.
