Sailing a Pacific Seacraft

On Sunday, June 24, we finally got out on the water for a few hours. Not on Cilantro, but on Alaria, a Pacific Seacraft 34 owned by Bob and Joanne Steneck. Alaria spends the winter next to Cilantro in the shed at Bittersweet Landing, so we are neighbors of sorts. Mikey introduced us to the Stenecks, and they generously invited us out for a sail.

The first thing Bob and Jo did was climb up the ladder onto Cilantro to compare the layout and features with their boat, which is three feet shorter. Then we drove the mile or so to the marina at Christmas Cove where they keep Alaria on a mooring. Christmas Cove is a lovely protected harbor dotted with mooring balls and lobster buoys (a very important part of the local economy; also an abundant hazard to navigation). The four of us climbed into their eight-foot inflatable dinghy, and Bob (crossing his fingers) fired up the 2-hp outboard. It's so compact that the gas tank is built into the top of the motor. Our 5.5-hp outboard will be heavier to handle, and there's a separate fuel tank to lug around as well.

Shoreline near Christmas Cove

The shoreline in this part of Maine features great slabs of gneiss and schist metamorphosed from sandstone, slate, and volcanic rock, along with conifer and deciduous forest. It reminds Sue of the lakes region in southern Ontario where she has spent many summers and where her sister Ellen now lives.

Bob brought us alongside Alaria and hung his homemade step-up (a section of 6x6 suspended on small ropes or lines from the lifeline stanchions) to make it easier to transfer from the low dinghy to Alaria's deck. What Bob's contraption lacked in refinement it made up in functionality. He added that he sometimes stands on the 6x6 at the helm to see better over the bow. Sue, who is about Bob's height, is already making a mental note to build her own step-up for Cilantro. Curtis, wary of Sue's design aesthetics, will likely offer suggestions, or better yet, build the thing himself. Sue says, "OK!"

Jo and Sue stowed the lunches, jackets, and miscellany belowdecks while Bob and Curtis hoisted the dinghy outboard and bolted it to the stern rail. The lightweight dinghy was tethered with a bridle to the stern for towing. ("Why didn't we leave the dinghy tied to the mooring?" Sue asked Curtis later. He explained that if something were to go wrong with the sailboat, the dinghy is part of the back-up plan.) Bob checked the automatic bilge pump meter, the battery levels, and critical parts such as the raw water intake and strainer for engine cooling, and entered numbers and notes in the ship's log.

Curtis, with Bob Steneck at the helm

Bob started the engine and readied the mainsail for hoisting. The light (maybe 5 knot) NW wind was perfect for sailing directly from the mooring, but having the engine running was prudent in a harbor crowded with mooring balls, lobster buoys, and other boat traffic. Soon we were underway with sails up and engine off. Alaria is cutter-rigged, meaning she has a jib (forward-most sail) and staysail (between jib and main) in addition to the mainsail. Cilantro is also cutter-rigged but has a second, smaller mast and sail, called the mizzen, at the stern, making her a yawl. (A ketch also has a mizzen mast and sail, but its mizzen is forward of the rudder post, whereas the yawl's mizzen is aft of the rudder post.)

Once we were clear of the harbor, Curtis took the helm and had his first experience sailing a Pacific Seacraft. (What?! -- you ask -- you bought a Pacific Seacraft without ever having sailed one?!) He appreciated the light touch required to hold a course -- little or no weather helm, or "pull" on the wheel. The boat felt balanced and solid, even when a 15-20 knot gust heeled us sharply to port.

Bob suggested we head for Ram Island, a small rocky island with a house, lighthouse, and not much more. Between Ram Island and Fisherman's Island to the east runs a narrow but navigable north-south channel that Bob has sailed through many times. Commercial tourist boats run through it too. Curtis asked casually, "What do you do if the wind dies when you're in the channel?" "Start the engine" was Bob's reply. As we neared the channel, Bob took the helm and steered us in. Well, the wind did not die, but it did suddenly shift 180 degrees, from NW to SE, and we found ourselves abruptly "headed" (pointing directly upwind and unable to sail). Alaria wasted no time, pivoting to starboard and heading for the shoreline. A nearby group of kayakers watched our maneuvers with interest. "Start the engine!" Bob said to Jo, and she did. He shifted into reverse, turned the boat in a neat circle, and motored the rest of the way through the passage. Well done!

Entering the channel between Ram I. and Fisherman's I.

After a bit, Sue took the helm and steered for Damariscove Island, watching the GPS chart plotter (which displayed the NOAA chart for our location, including depth soundings and navigation hazards). Bob had lowered the dodger for better visibility forward, so Sue was able to keep an eye on the sail telltales (little wisps of yarn or thread whose movements indicate good or bad sail trim), watch for lobster buoys and boat traffic, and spot common eider and black guillemots floating on the water. She loved the feel of the boat and found it remarkably easy to sail.

Sue steered us down the west side of Damariscove Island, a long north-south island with a tightly pinched "waist" that nearly cuts it in two. Originally inhabited by the Abenaki, an Algonquian-speaking tribe, Damariscove was colonized as early as 1604 by Europeans and became the hub of a commercial cod-fishing operation. In the Spring of 1622, when the Pilgrims of Plymouth Colony were nearing starvation following a harsh winter, they traveled north to Maine, where the Damariscove fishermen filled their boats with dried cod.

View north toward the small harbor on Damariscove Island

We rounded Damariscove's south end, tacked to sail east toward Pumpkin Island, where we watched a large colony of harbor seals lolling about, then turned north on a run (wind at our stern), back toward Christmas Cove. To prevent an accidental jibe (having the boom or jib swing suddenly -- and dangerously -- across the boat), Bob and Curtis rigged up a whisker pole on the jib and a boom brake on the main. As we entered Christmas Cove, Bob announced his desire to sail (rather than motor) to the mooring, which involves sailing past the mooring ball and then coming about sharply to drift with little or no momentum up to the pendant. It took three attempts, but the third approach was perfect. After securing the boat to the mooring, stowing the sails, and closing up the cabin, we departed in the dinghy for shore. A rewarding day of sailing!

Curtis at the helm, with Joanne Steneck