Splashed!

Heading for the water

Not quite enough water! We needed another eight inches.

Cilantro was launched on Tuesday, July 31^st, around 8 p.m. Due to some last-minute to-dos, we missed the narrow window of the morning tide and waited – half in, half out, on the hydraulic trailer – for the evening tide to float us. (There are nine-foot tides here, give or take a foot, and our six-foot draft needs most of that water to sidle up to Bittersweet's long finger dock.) We laughed about taking yet more baby steps on our journey from land to sea, but other than the steep slant we were on (bow smartly up due to the ramp angle), the day passed just fine. We continued to work on installations, ordering new gadgets, and finding places to store cleaning products and too many pairs of shoes. We were still getting used to being uncovered (no all-weather shed roof over us) and self-contained (no overflow storage in the shed). Baby steps.

In the water at last, on a rising evening tide

In the evening, with the second rising tide of the day, Mikey backed us down the ramp again, and Cilantro floated off the trailer to the dock. The Yanmar engine started up easily and ran smoothly, even though it hasn't run in three years. Sue took the helm and we followed Mikey's skiff out to a nearby mooring and tied on for the night, with a borrowed dinghy from the boatyard as our shore transport. Boat stayed upright, propeller didn't fall off, mast poked happily at the sky.

“We're in the drink and in the soup,” Curtis said Wednesday morning as he opened his eyes to a gray-white sky. It had rained most of the night, gently, drizzlingly, so the boat's hatches, portlights, and companionway were closed up tight. We had woken several times in the night, listening to drips and water sounds, and we each got up at different times to walk around and check for leaks. What is that running water sound? Oh, a deck scupper draining as it should, through the hull. What is that wet spot on the cabin sole? Hmm, this overhead hatch has a slow drip. (Note to selves: need to clean and inspect both hatches at next good opportunity. Fortunately, they are Bomar hatches, and replacement gaskets and other parts should be readily available.) We found two other suspect areas: a small puddle by a galley saltwater seacock that we closed, pending replacement of some suspect hoses, and a buzzy, spitty drip behind the toilet that dribbles down onto the head floor into the shower sump. When you finally get out on the water, you pay lots of attention to keeping the wet stuff OUT of the boat.

VariProp propeller gets its first bath.

First day activities: Curtis worked on installing and calibrating our Simrad depth, wind, and speed instruments in the navpod at the binnacle (a pedestal in the cockpit that holds the steering wheel, ship's compass and, often, navigation electronics). Depth: 15.9 feet. Speed: 0.0 knots. Wind: not yet wired. Sue worked on setting up the ship's two logbooks: an engine maintenance and equipment log, including engine hours, repairs and maintenance items, and new equipment installations; and a cruising log, to record where we are and where we go, plus weather conditions, speed, sail set, and other observations and comments. Curtis rewired a 12-volt outlet at the nav station so we could charge up our Important Devices without going through the inverter for AC power. He also checked the status of our battery banks and was happy to report that, after 36 hours unplugged from shore power (and having run the engine for only about five minutes), our engine bank stood at 12.7 volts and our house bank showed 12.4 volts. Sue washed some impromptu laundry (underwear) in the sink and hung it in the head to drip dry. Then John arrived to look at our head leak and had to duck under the laundry. Oops. After he left, Sue decided to move the laundry out into the sun, hung between a shroud and the boom. John stopped by a second time, this time to retune the rigging. Ah, dignity.

Rowing the borrowed dinghy back to Cilantro

So, we are launched, with sails and motor ready to use, although our anchors and rode are back in the shed awaiting a few tasks. Probably some folks expected us to head right out on a day sail or, at the very least, a motoring tour of our environs. Maybe we are too cautious (in our over-50ish- and over-60ish-ness), but we are enjoying spending the first days acquainting ourselves with our new floating home and her systems, rowing ashore to get parts and materials, completing chores, enjoying lunch in the cockpit with a view of South Bristol Harbor, listening to lobstermen and other fishermen coming and going, greeting passing kayakers and paddle-boarders, and watching herring gulls and great black-backed gulls watching us.

We are glad to be on the water!

View northeast from the mooring in South Bristol Harbor

View southwest from the mooring toward The Gut, a narrow passage
topped by a swing bridge