Bang, Thump, and Thwack: Sailing Theory

Just a head's up: this is going to get pretty technical.

WW figures he has sussed out the problem Django has been having. At first we thought it was the ka-bangs and the ka-thumps that were the problem. To refresh your memory:

• Your ka-bang occurs when a wave hits Django's belly (between the two hulls), which also happens to be the salon floor. It produces a sound like a small detonation and has the effect of pitching you an inch off the floor, should you be standing on it.
• Your ka-thump occurs when your bow is heading into the seas and meets a cresting wave head on. Water is hard when you meet it at speed. The interesting thing in a cat is that you can have sequential ka-thumps separated by very little time. That's because each hull can produce it's own personal ka-thumps.

Well, WW believes the ka-bangs, apart from being annoying, are reasonably innocuous. The ka-thump is also not a terrible thing, unless it contributes to your ka-thwack.

• Your ka-thwack happens when the sails back and then snap into place (I told you this would be technical). If you are sailing close to the wind (pointing as close as possible to straight into it and still able to sail), from time to time, the boat will head into the wind, the sails will go aback (oh nevermind...they flutter) and then, because you have an autopilot forcing the boat back on course, the sail will snap back into action with considerable force. A wind shift or your ka-thump can contribute to the start of a ka-thwack, whereas your ka-bang doesn't. Both your mainsail and your genoa can ka-thwack and affect their supports (mast and forestay) as they do so.

WW thinks our problem has been ka-thwacks of which there have been many as we've beein sailing almost constantly into the wind. Each of them results in a cracking fexion of the mast. Carrying on in this fashion for three days at a run will ensure you fulfill the maxim: While you're sleeping, your boat is breaking.

Here endeth the lesson.

Repairs Ongoing

WW had threatened to start bright and early. He generally keeps his threats. In fairness, though, he doesn't seem to expect me to follow suit.

By shortly after 9, having breakfasted and abluted, he was sewing up the mainsail. My mission, should I choose to accept it (I did), was to tighten the trampoline lines which had been loosened to reset the bars. It was very hot. We both grunted a bit. We got the jobs done.

After lunch, we were taken in to Puerto Plata, about 5 km from Ocean World, were we stopped on a narrow street full of people selling, making and buying automotive bits and pieces. We needed to have the mainsail car from the boom repaired. Much muttering and discussion was followed, within about 10 minutes, by the repaired car being returned to us. The cost was a princely 100 RD (32 RD = 1 dollar). We then visited a bookstore, where we bought several children's books in Spanish, and a grocery store for the essential ron punche limes.

Back at Django, it was a balmy 38C under the bimini, 30C inside. In the cool of the evening, we headed back to Almost Open, the grouper sandwich's siren call being irresistible to William.

Saturday morning, he was at it again. The car was installed, the patched mainsail was furled. Then it was time for aerial work.

The bos'un's chair is a structure which can be attached to a halyard such that a person sitting in it can be hauled up to the masthead. WW needed to fix the forestay. He had realized that it was not, in fact, falling apart, but that it has a good solid steel cable at its core. However, it is sheathed in sections of aluminum tubing. Two of those sections, about two thirds of the way up, had separated.

The first attempt had him shinnying up the forestay while I used a winch and the windlass to support him. He found the problem and descended, but decided it was too hard on the windlass to go up that way. We really don't want to burn out its motor. Next time, he climbed the mast, swung over Tarzan-style to the forestay. It was all very dramatic and exciting and so forth. Especially the parts when he squealed a lot. He didn't entirely trust me to lower him slowly enough and was understandably nervous. I did a brilliant, not to say perfect, job.

We refurled the genny, then WW replaced various lines (including our topping lift) and I swabbed the decks. Within a couple of hours we had a gleaming boat with an entirely new set of lines, repairs all done, ready for a sea trial.

The Mainsail

Our first exotic repair was to be the mainsail furler. I say "our", but I lie. WW's first exotic repair. I am an exuberant bystander, most adept at being in the way. Occasionally, I will be asked to hold a line or cheer. For the most part, I am excess to requirements.

WW scratched his head, pondered, and finally used a plastic lid we had saved since Fort Lauderdale to build a new piece for the furler. He also removed and replaced the furler line and moved the supporting struts for the trampoline. All this was hot work, so he was sent off for a shower.

I had told him about the Adventure Park and we went to explore it. That's when we discovered I had been an illegal entrant. As we were turning away, a man accosted WW and offered him "the tour". This turned out to be a drive to the offices of Lifestyle Vacation Holidays, where we were handed over to the extremely pleasant James Almazor (Haitian, his grandfather had come from Quebec), who tried to sell us one of a variety of vacation plans. It is actually quite an interesting concept, but probably not our style.

When we returned to the boat, it was about rum punch o'clock. The temperature under the bimini was 41C. We turned on both fans and lolled in the salon at a comfortable 28C. Then we walked into the village and ate at the Almost Open restaurant. WW won. He had the grouper sandwich. It was magnificent.

****

It is Sunday morning and we are being taken to Santiago in about 10 minutes. Tomorrow we will head to Santo Domingo and on Tuesday, we are flying back to Canada. That means I will have to catch up when I'm back there.

Ocean World...and All That That Entails

Imagine a lovely oceanfront cottage, swallows and kingbirds swooping overhead, and "Who Let the Dogs Out?" playing very very loudly about 100 metres away. That's for the sealions. For the porpoises it's "Surfin' USA". The macaws get "March of the Toreadors". All very loud and clear for the occupants of Django. The lights of the huge sign atop the casino replace those myriad stars we had to put up with in mid-ocean. Really, who could ask for more?

As a marina, it's very nice. Mind you, any place with a functional hot shower and a toilet that flushes is very nice to my tiny mind. On our first day, we were docked as far away as humanly possible from all the amenities...about a five minute walk in the 35C+ heat. However, the Ocean World Marina personnel are more than happy to leap into a golf cart and take you to and from laundry, showers, Internet, etc.

Django at Ocean World, DR

I had a load of laundry to do but the machines wouldn't be free for half an hour, so I decided to explore. I climbed some stairs, turned left, and found a little gateway into a cafeteria. I wandered through that and into the shopping area, thence to the snorkelling reef. Which is pretty cool for kids. It's a huge aquarium about 10 feet deep at it's deepest, with coral and reef fish swimming about...and kids. Next to that is the aviary where you go through two sets of doors and can have a toucan walk up and down your arm. There are tigers which I didn't see. The dolphins were doing laps in a large enclosure. The sealions were in a pool about three times their body length long, but quite deep. They were noodling around in the most spectacularly sinuous fashion. By the time I'd pottered about the place, the washers were free. It was only the next day that I learned entrance to the Adventure Park is $35 per person. I'd innocently found a back door.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

After we docked, we arranged for a mechanic to visit and WW went off to arrange our stay. I started cleaning. I was reasonably sure that our boat had developed an aromatic richness during our crossing. I washed all the floors and walls inside, and two of the galley cupboards. Outside, I started to scrub the decks. After Django was something approaching clean, I headed off with the laundry and WW continued clean up operations. By the time I returned, it was well past both beer and lunch o'clocks. We headed in to the outdoor restaurant, at which time I posted that first "Yo tieno hamber" (I am hungry) post. (Yes, we are trying to learn espagnol, which is hard because all the Dominicans want to practise their English.)

After a delicious lunch (I had a crillo frito -- fried red snapper -- that was absolutely fantastico) at the Octopus Bar and Grill, we gathered our laundry and met the mechanic who came out to the boat with us. He hung head down in the starboard engine compartment where he repaired an oil leak but was unable to solve the transmission problem. This consists mainly of the engine refusing to go into gear from time to unpredictable time. WW thinks it may be a warranty issue. Pedro the mechanic also changed the oil, oil filtres, and fuel filtres in both engines.

That evening, we ate in Poseidon, the fancier restaurant, which offered very well-endowed salad and dessert bars to go with a choice of main course. We both chose the lobster, and were rewarded with three enormous half tails. And very delicious, too.

We retired early since the morrow would see us starting early to avoid the heat. We would, of course, be repairing our boat in an exotic location.

Rum Cay to Dominican Republic, Day 3

I had the dawn watch. It was amazing to sit on this little blob in the tractless seas, no land in sight, and realize the same sun that had gone plop over there last night, was brightening the sky way over in this other place this morning.

Our day was almost completely lazy. We lolled about, reading the thrillers the previous owner had left on board. These books are the kind you probably would never buy ordinarily, but they are ideal for cruises. Fortunately, there are book exchanges at various cruising stops, so you can turn in the ones you've finished for new ones. They are all pretty much identical. In fact, WW and I wondered whether, with aging memories such as ours, we could perhaps keep just two books on board. Unfortunately, that won't work. I read faster than he. That's because he spends all that potential reading time worrying.

It was very warm during the afternoon, and I'd gone below to get out of the sun when WW shouted, "Porpoises!"

A dozen or more came to check us out and six of them stayed with us for a mile or two. They seemed to enjoy swimming between our bows and keeping just ahead of us, and just below the bows when they'd crash down after a swell. I crawled forward and sat on the starboard bow, porpoises leaping and blowing beneath my feet. Crashing swells drenched me, but I was grinning from ear to ear. It was amazing, a dream, to be just above them as they paced us, moving effortlessly through the fabulously clear water. Then, suddenly, it was time to go. They curved gracefully ahead and away from us, then dropped behind. I looked back and one came from astern of us and a bit to starboard, then leapt a good five feet clear of the water and covered at least 10 feet in a spectacular farewell.

I crawled back to the cockpit where WW was standing with the shower. I was hosed down and not allowed into the cockpit until I'd rinsed myself and my clothes completely. Good ol' salt water.

Immediately after, WW spotted a small whale puffing away to starboard, and speculated that it was either a baby or a pilot whale. Then he saw a larger whale behind and beneath it, so our bet is a mom and tot team of the humpback variety.

At 16:30 EST, we were 5o nautical miles from Ocean World Marina, outside Puerto Plata, DR. I decided we should celebrate with our first RP (with real ice, husbanded against this moment) since Rum Cay. I proudly produced them in the cockpit, where WW wasn't.

He was on the foredeck. He was busy with something. He was worrying for a change. As the ice in the RPs softly and silently vanished away, he told me the forestay was coming apart. For those who don't know, that's a Very Important Piece of Boat. It holds the mast up. We furled the genny till only a small triangle was still pulling us. We reduced speed on our only remaining engine, so as to move at no more than about 4 knots. Apparently, Django hadn't enjoyed the banging she'd been getting any more than we had.

Our third night was very very long. It was the first time I too had been really worried. When WW would go below to sleep, I'd look up at the mast and wonder fearfully when exactly it was going to come crashing down. Every bump and thump had me twitching. I had no trouble at all staying awake.

We saw small craft heading into Haiti or the DR, but they were few and far between. WW had the dawn watch. He woke me soon after. The coast of the DR was a few miles to starboard and a more beautiful sight I have rarely seen. We were moving along the coast to our marina, about 20 miles further east.

WW wanted to lower the mainsail. The furler remained resolutely jammed, so we ended up hauling it down off the mast and bundling it up on the boom. My job was interim bungee cord, wrapped desperately around sail and boom while WW lashed it down. It's nice to feel useful.

We entered Ocean World Marina at about 9 a.m. and learned that the time was 8 a.m. From here on in, ship's time is EDT.

Rum Cay to Dominican Republic, Day 2

When we were waiting for our lunch at Kaye's on Rum Cay, we'd been talking to another cruiser. He told us a new adage to live by. It is a perfect mate for "Cruising is repairing your boat in exotic locations."

The new one is: "While you're sleeping...your boat is breaking."

WW had had the dawn watch. The sun had risen on a broken mainsail shackle on the boom and the complete failure of our starboard transmission. In addition, when we tried to lower the mainsail, we discovered the furler was jammed beyond redemption. With my help (I held onto him and braced him while he worked), WW lashed the end of the mainsail in place. He observed that we had plenty of gas, provided we could figure out how to get it from the starboard engine's tank to the port engine's tank. Even for that, he had a plan. Perforce, the mainsail stayed up.

We continued with a nice wind from the north and, at Mayaguana, we moved to a more southerly course which suited the wind and seas much better.

Mayaguana is the last Bahama island we would pass before the Turks and Caicos. It is surrounded by formidable reefs and a large wreck on the tip of the southern reef -- about three miles offshore -- was as sober reminder to take care and believe the charts. So many marine dangers are not visible until it's way too late.

We discussed heading into Provo (Providenciales, the prinicpal island of the Caicos), but decided to press on to the Dominican Republic (DR) where, we thought, we had a better chance of getting a mechanic and of being pulled out if need be.

Just after Mayaguana, WW pointed to the horizon. A huge whale breached. A short time later, she or he did it again. Samana Bay in the DR is where the humpback whales go each year, from about December to February, to calve and breed. Several thousand congregate both in the bay and in a marine reserve just offshore. The males posture and display, like males everywhere. They also sing. The females give birth and start teaching their thousand-pound wee 'uns basic survival. After calving comes breeding and the year-long pregnancy begins. It's likely, then, that our breaching friend was a humpback heading to the cooler waters of the north for the summer.

We passed the Turks and Caicos after dark, WW worrying and me playing games. We were well south along the Caicos Bank when the sun rose on Day 3.

Rum Cay to Dominican Republic, Day 1

We cast off, with some much appreciated help from Peggy (and valiant attempts by the Rum Cay kitty to stow away), at about 8 a.m. ship's time on Sunday, March 9. I say ship's time, because we decided to ignore daylight saving until we found out what the Dominican Republic is using. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the wind was not too bad and in a reasonable, if not great, quarter.

We are circumspect in our alcohol consumption during crossings and cruises. A majority of boating accidents and drownings are associated with liquor + boat. WW also confidently informs me that men peeing over the side is a bad thing...a very good way to produce a man overboard (MOB) situation. That said, we marked our entry into the tropics at about 1 p.m. EST by a small glass of wine. Then we settled into occupying our little home for the next three days. A lot of reading is done.

The wind, instead of slacking as it was supposed to, picked up. We were bucketing along between 6 and 7 knots for much of the time. Django didn't like it much, since she was pointing almost directly into the wind and waves. The wind finally moved to a more advantageous bit of the compass and we were able to raise genny and mainsail. We watched Rum Cay vanish into the distance; the next bit of land to the south would be Samana Cay.

When the sun plonked itself into the ocean, we dined and began our two-hour watch rotation. It was much easier than I had thought it would be, although catamarans go bang alot as the centre connecty bit (I believe that's the technical term) is slapped by the seas. They also go thump when one or other of the bows buries itself in a solid wall of wave. Below can be rather noisy. And bumpy. Our berth is forward and one of the not good places to be during a cruise, so we took turns on the salon bench. It was actually very comfy. In future, we will use the stern berth on which I store cabbages, eggs, bottles of wine, and such. We think it will be much quieter and the sleeper will not be bothered by the watchkeeper making tea or checking the plotter or shining a Ginny-provided headlamp on the charts.

That night was my first experience of the fabled phosphorescence of the sea. WW tells me it is created by little shrimp-like creatures--the fireflies of the sea. They were just sporadic sparkles here and there in our wake, but lovely withal. WW says you can hit great congregations of the critters and your entire wake becomes awash with light.

The main trick with keeping night watch is, of course, staying awake. You can't read because the light would mess up your night vision and you REALLY want to know if a cruise or cargo ship is anywhere nearby. There is even a setting on the chart plotter for night which is far dimmer than the day setting. WW achieves wakefulness by worrying. I achieve it with my Nintendo DS, a Christmas present from the boys and GG (and for which, many thanks). It is a little pocket video game player on which I can do sudoku and puzzles and other drivel. It can be closed and reopened later to pick up where you left off. That means I could start something, shut it, check all the dials and course and wind and speed over ground, and restart it just by opening it again.

With WW worrying and me solving mindless puzzles, we did very well.

We passed Samana Cay just before dawn and WW had news for me.