Hopedale

July 19th, 2010

Darkness overtook us on the way to Hopedale.  We searched the charts for an anchorage and picked a likely spot on a small no name island.  What looks good on a chart may not be so.  When we edged our way through the narrow channel into the anchorage it was easy to see no anchoring here. Too rocky, too shallow, ah, too bad!  On to Hopedale.  Ken steered and I dropped the hook inside the harbor at 0200.

 

We awoke to a stiff wind coming down off the mountain guarding Hopedale from the Northwest winds.   It seems the NW wind finds the harbor just fine, though.

 

Up the anchor and CAP’N LEM moved to the public pier.  A few minutes tidying up the boat and then ashore.  It was easy to see we weren’t locals and children came from every where to check out the strangers.  They were friendly and the older ones wanted to know where we were from?  “Washington State”.  “No, no not were Obama lives, other side of the country”.  Do we know any celebrities?  “Yes, the LADY WASHINGTON”.  And do you have any candy? “No comment.”

 

As we wandered the streets being careful not to be run over by 4wheelers, we came to the old church, with its bell tower.   Two young women came running toward us asking all excited if we had come to see their museum.  “Well, of course!”  That’s the best place to start to get to know a community.  The ladies, Hilda and Sybilla, were working at the museum for the summer and they introduced to us to Tyler.  It was Tyler’s first day on the job. 

 

Hilda was the keeper of the key and let us in to the beautiful old building that made up the display rooms.  It was filled with wonderful things from Hopedale past and the ladies were eager and informative guides. Tyler was a bit reserved for fear we would ask him a question he didn’t know. There were many artifacts of Inuit life and the early European settlers.  It was the photographs of the beautiful people of the past that touched my heart the most.  Good people living in a harsh land

 

When you visit Hopedale on your Great Adventure, look for Hilda, Sybilla and Tyler.  They were the best.   

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Makkovik

July 16th, 2010

Uncle Jim was waiting on the dock to greet the strange little sailboat coming to Makkovik.  James “Uncle Jim” Andersen, born in Makkovik in 1919.  Artist, musician, photographer, film maker and a keeper of the history of Labrador, bright eyed Uncle Jim started slow, almost shyly, talking to Ken as I took on water.  They were the usual questions; where ya from, where ya going and why did you come to Makkovik? 

But then, bit by bit’ he began to open the treasure chest that was his life in the north. 

 

“When ya get done here, why don’t you fellers come up to my house?  I’ve got something for ya.  It’s the one with the anchor just below the kitchen window.  That anchor was pulled up by a fishing boat off Belle Isle 1950.” 

 

We move the boat to a better moorage, secure her from the days sail from Double Island, and head down the road to Uncle Jim’s.  He meets us at the door.  Inside it truly was like entering a treasure chest of wonderful memories, photographs, books, and awards.  Every picture tells a story.  Father, mother, brother, sisters.  Grandfathers and grandmothers, come to the new world form Norway in the 1800’s. 

 

Uncle Jim played a DVD for us he had made of life on the land in Labrador.  Beautiful people, many or most gone now, at work, at play.  All living life on life’s terms.  Enjoying the joy, bearing the sorry.  That’s just the way it’s done. 

 

Uncle Jim spoke so tenderly of his dear sister.  How musical she was.  How she had passed not long ago at 96.  He gave me a magazine with an article he had wrote in tribute to her.

 

He gave me a book about his photographs.  He gave me 4 DVDs of his films about life the way it was.  He gave me smoke fish.  Uncle Jim is a giver. 

 

My only offering in return was to come back in the morning with my little slideshow of the trip thus far.  He showed such interest, asking questions about the boat and the pictures, and what my life at sea was like. 

 

A man like Uncle Jim should live a thousand years.

 

 

 

Ken and Uncle Jim

Ken and Uncle Jim

 

 

Uncle Jim and Tommy

Uncle Jim and Tommy

 

Hunting Ice

July 15th, 2010

Hunting iceberg pieces for the cold chest is a lot like hunting a mammoth; even the small ones go a long way and they are a lot less likely to kill you.  On the last hunt we barely got enough to go around.  Oh, there was plenty of ice but the swell and wind made coming along side a bergybit a little too uncomfortable in an eggshell of a hull like the CAP’N LEM so we only got enough to last a few days .

 

Leaving the cove on Double Island put us on the lookout for more.  Sure enough, right at the entrance was a likely quarry, an old guy by the looks of the rounded tops and blue strata of hard cold Greenland Glaciers running throughout, head high and grounded in 40’ of water so it wasn’t rocking in the echoing swell between the islands.  When hunting ice in Labrador it is best the bergy not have any overhangs that can come toppling downs on the unwary hunter.  Ice ten thousand years old is heavy, hard and brittle. It can and will fight back.  A jab here often fractures off a piece over there.  To every action there is a reaction some smart guy said once, but then a really smart guy would stay home and get his ice from the refrigerator. 

 

We circled once to ascertain if the giant was indeed sleeping, then approached one protruding promontory, knife ready for the surprise attack.  Bergybits sing in their sleep, a bell like song consisting of melting water falling into the sea and sounds like breaking crystal  as the icy keel morphs into liquid again after millenniums. Pour tea over really cold ice cubes then multiply that sound a thousand fold and you will hear the tune a melting iceberg sings. 

 

I take a stab.  Chips fly.  I stab again.  More chips.  I stab again… a pop, a crack, a thunderous splash as he gives up a piano size chunk to the sea along with lots of perfectly useful chest size chunk. 

 

The current spread the ice quickly.  Ken maneuvers the boat as I scoop the bounty from the sea.  We didn’t want to kill the icebergy; we just wanted a piece of his hide!  Success!  We’ve saved the milk!  Along with the Caribou bologna, the hot dogs, the butter and the mayo.  

 

Press on to Makkovik.  The wind is on the rise.

 

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Splash

Splash

 

 

The catch

The catch

Brig Harbor Island to Makkovik

July 13th, 2010

Calm night, sunrise, clear skies, soft breeze from southeast.  Several times during the night a seal slapped the side of the amma out of curiosity.  Getting underway we thread our way through bergybits into the open Sea of Labrador.  By nine, the wind freshened 12 to 15 knots from the stern and we were on our way to Makkovik.

 

Ice bergs of all sizes and shapes lined the horizon.  As we approached them, keeping a safe distance of course, we could see a loose pattern to the way they lined up. It was roughly the 400 foot depth curve on the chart.  Labrador is where icebergs come to die.  Some were stark white with ice blue. Some were streaked with dirt and one even had a line of rocks on its sloping side dug up by the mother glacier and carried in the ice.   It would seem Greenland, too, comes to Labrador. 

 

We filled the coolers with ice from a bergybit by first knocking it loose with a crowbar, Gordon Freeman style, then fishing it from the sea with a net.  I put a piece in my mouth.  It was as clean and fresh as the snows of ten thousand years ago could make it. 

 

Our fair winds and following seas carried us 72 nautical miles to anchorage at Double Island, lat. 54°51’30”N ~ long. 058°23’12”W.img_1024_resizedinofficemanager

 

Brig Harbor Island Sunset

Brig Harbor Island Sunset

Happy Valley-Goose Bay

July 11th, 2010

I have the warmest thoughts of Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Labrador and her friendly, helpful and wonderfully interesting people.  When I first sailed into Goose Bay last year feeling forlorn and a bit defeated not to have made it farther north, then to be greeted in the bay by the blackest clouds of the whole journey, I had no idea I would grow to hold this little community at the end of the road as my Canadian Hometown.

 

My separation anxiety from leaving the CAP’N LEM for nearly a year made my imagination run wild. “Will the motor still be there?  Will she be full of water from rain, the hard dodger blow to who knows where? Or worst yet will she be full of flyes because I didn’t get all the food off.  Where will I work on her?  How will I move her?   Should I have…?”  Hardly a night passed during the long winter that I did not dream of my little ship so far away and the voyage still ahead. 

 

But I did choose the right place to winter her, to be sure!  Not one thing out of place, she was just as I had left her.  Oh, the tarp had flogged itself to death in hurricane force winds, and a little mold here and there but no mater.  She’s a boat, water is her element.

 

Now Goose Bay, Lake Melville, Rigolet and the Narrows have faded from sight off the stern, but not from my heart. 

 

I’m afraid if I started to thank people by name that “kept an eye” on her, I would surely miss someone.  So, let me just say THANK YOU to all Happy Valley-Goose Bay.

You’re my kind of people!

 

 

Side story:  Where I stored and worked on the CAP’N LEM was next to the headquarters for the forest fire fighting Tanker Plane 283and her crew.  I enjoyed the short chats we had most everyday as they made their way back and forth to the plane and I did projects to boat.  The day Ken and I raised the mast while at anchor was a flying day for that beautiful plane.  It was as if they had staged a fly-by just for the CAP’N LEM.  We stopped working every time to watch her skim the bay and take on her load of water. 

 

Coming in for the Big Gulp!

Coming in for the Big Gulp!

 

Ken is here with me assisting in navigation and planning.  He won’t make the Arctic trip but Labrador was too good to be missed so I talked him into coming along to at least Nain. We first met sailing on the Brig Lady Washington.  Tonight we anchor at Brig Harbor Island, Labrador.  Fitting for two old “brig-men” and THE CAPTAIN LEMUEL R BRIGMAN III.

Ken aloft unfouling the jib halyard

Ken aloft unfouling the jib halyard

Splash!!!

July 8th, 2010

CAP’N LEM is back in the water!  Lots of hard work but uneventful.  Ken is here to help and enjoy the coast of Labrador.  I convenced him Labrador is just too good to be missed.

I’m so excited to hear there is another F-31 heading for the Passage.  I do hope we meet up along the way.  See http://www.ousland.no/2010/07/paying-hommage-to-our-predecessors/comment-page-1/#comment-3126

The passage is still choked with ice as of July 1, but…  http://www.ec.gc.ca/glaces-ice/default.asp?lang=En&n=0417829C-1&wsdoc=101D083D-C46A-4627-BF5A-CED5B8CE08E8

The Ice! She's a melting!

The Ice! She's a melting!

New Crew

July 4th, 2010

A lot of work had been accomplished in my days here at Goose Bay.  Fix this, fix that, paint it, stow it, re-stow it.  The food stores I’ve carried 4414 miles in the shower are onboard the CAP’N LEM.  Now I can shower without a major movement of can goods and cereal boxed.

 

I’m sending the “Inflatable Parrot” into reserve duty status and bringing the good and faithful kayak to the front line.  As you’ve learned by now, most everything has a name and a story to go with it.  With the Gray Ghost, the stories are many!

 

A fellow ask me, “Tommy, why do you have seven boats?!!”  I told him, “Because I sold one”.  Of all the boats I have own over the years, my 17’ double seat, Kevlar reinforced, Easy Rider Bulge kayak will always remain the one “not for sale”.

 

The Gray Ghost was new in 1986, not a scratch on her.  24 years later she bares marks like an old sperm whale after a lifetime of diving to unbelievable depths.  I was Boatswain on the Ice Breaker Polar Star and in charge of the deck cargos so it was easy to slip her aboard as stowaway for the Operation Deep Freeze ‘87 deployment to Antarctica.  When the work was done and things quieted down, I could launch her over the side and paddle amongst the Elephant Seals and Penguins.  On the way home, when shipmates went to bar hop, I slipped over the side to spend my time exploring the waterways of what ever port we hit.  In Tasmania I spent 3 days in her, sleeping at anchor by removing ever thing and lashing it to the side.  I would partially inflate an air matress to take out the bumps. To turn over required waking up, sitting up, turning then scrunching back down; not the most comfortable bed but do-able.  I could even cook holding a Sterno Stove with my feet.  (There is just no stopping a coffee addict from brewing a pot).  I snorkeled from her in Tonga and stayed awake most of the night anchored near a place called Crocodile River in Queensland Australia thinking, ‘gee, I wonder why they named the river that?’

 

In our younger days, (we were both younger once) I dressed her bow with names of the exotic places I had paddled her.  They have long since washed away but the letters left marks that close inspection reveals names; Palmer and McMurdo Station Antarctica, Hobart Tasmania, Tonga, Princess Louisa Sound BC, Puget Sound, Lake Washington, Acapulco Mexico, Victoria BC.  It is only fitting that the Gray Ghost accompanies me on my way north. 

Shipmake Kari in the Gray Ghost, Princess Louisa Inlet BC

Shipmake Kari in the Gray Ghost, Princess Louisa Inlet BC

 

 

 

The Gray Ghost at Chatterbox Falls

The Gray Ghost at Chatterbox Falls

Heavy Lift, Part III

June 25th, 2010

To complete our discussion of heavy lifting we must address a component so vital that without it blocks would be useless, winches; mere toys, lines; just string, it just wouldn’t work without knots!

The landsman seldom rises far above learning to tie the shoelace. A Granny Knot will work. To him, the square knot is the stuff of Boy Scouts and anything long and limber is just another rope. But the sailor knows different. The sailor knows knots and he knows their varied and proper uses. The choice of the proper knot is the choice between success and disaster at sea. As Clifford Ashley put it, “A knot is either perfectly right or hopelessly wrong.” I remember hearing a Coast Guard Chief Boatswain’s Mate say as we passed a jumbled heap of lines jammed this way and that around a cleat to secure a very nice and expensive yacht to its moorings, “If you can’t tie a knot, tie a lot!”

I used two knots and two knots only in rigging to move the CAP’T LEM, the carrick bend and the swifter hitch.

I secured the block and tackle to the winch post on the trailer using a short line by taking it around the winch post and through the block several times then tying the ends together with the carrick bend. Although a great deal of force is exerted on this line, the load is shared and dispersed over the several wraps and did not exert that much pressure on any one wrap. The carrick is one of those most useful of knots. Like the bowline and round turn and two half hitches, its weave and shape are second nature to the true seaman. It’s a strong beautiful knot often used as the basis of fancy rope work. It’s easy to tie and easy to untie. Most every knot a sailor uses must, at some point in time, be untied. It is in the untying that the carrick bend becomes a king among knots. Lines bent together and put under a heavy strain such as towing or anchoring can still be untied once the strain is removed when the carrick is used. Not so with the square knot!

I used the carrick bend to secure the block and tackle to the trailer. But even the carrick fails to meet the second purpose because the line must be slacked in order to untie the knot. For the second, I needed a knot that could stand the strain without coming untied, and also be easily untied while still under the strain of moving the CAP’N LEM. I also needed complete control over the line and the load to test if anything would slip when the pressure was relieved. Only the swifter hitch has the character of being untie-able while the line and knot are still under load.

So, it was the swifter hitch I used to secure the bitter end of the line to the bow of the boat for the winching process. The boat would move in relation to the trailer 6 or 7 inches and it would be time to re-block, strip off the line layered on the winch and re-set the tackle. Even though the tackle and winch would still be under this incredible strain, I could un-tie the swifter hitch, ease out enough slack to see that nothing was going to slip, re-set everything and repeat the process. To make it even easier, I tied the swifter with a slip so all was need to release the knot was a smart yank and control was instantly in my hand.

Why am I taking the time to tell you all these things in such detail? Because, there is something to be learned from getting the CAP’N LEM off the ground and back to the water. There is encouragement to be had from methodically solving problems one step at a time by reasoning through the details of the process in the mind’s eye. The principles of leverage, mechanics, force and friction are faithful and can be trusted to build the advantages needed to overcome a daunting task. And because, there is an immense satisfaction to lifting a very heavy object and putting it in its place.

The Carrick Bend

The Carrick Bend

The Swifter Hitch

The Swifter Hitch

Heavy Lift, Part II

June 21st, 2010

The Block and Tackle

Launching and recovering a boat in the water with a trailer is easy. Floating things fall sideways with very little effort. A boat floating can be moved by the slightest of wind and sometimes remarkable fast as I experienced on Lake Superior when CAP’T LEM sailed a steady 5 knots with not so much as a ripple on the water. But a boat on land is entirely different. Next visit to a boatyard, notice all the sorts of contraptions used to move them on land. Travel Lifts, cranes and slings, dry docks and railways. This will give some idea of the obstacles that must be overcome when a boat is out of water.

Long ago, I found a little book at the Wooden Boat Shop (gone now and deeply missed) located down on the Montlake Cut in Seattle. I treasure that book and keep it stowed for quick reference on AVANTI. Its title, MOVING HEAVY THINGS br Jan Adkins. If any book is worth its weight in gold, this one is. It was artfully illustrated and beautifully written. It addressed all the things I’ve encountered in this segment of my adventure, friction, weight, leverage, incline planes and the block & tackle. But most useful, it talked about principles. One of the principles to use before attempting to move something heavy was to ask yourself “How did the old timers do it?”

I could have hired a mobile crane to just come pick it up and set it on the trailer, but what story would that make? No, no! Much better I ask myself “How would Captain Lem do it?”

It would go something like this, “So Cap, how would you pick that boat up off the ground and get it on the trailer, by yourself?” and I hear him in my minds ear. “Well, Tommy, the first thing ya gotta do, is get a couple a’ Jacks,… and lots of wood for dunnage… and a good stout block and tackle. And ya got to pay attention. You can’t be thinking about anything in the world but what you’re doing, so pay attention… And one more thing, pay attention!”

“Got ya, Cap. So what you’re telling me is I damn well better pay attention to what I’m doing, right? I’ll let ya know how it turns out. If I tell ya face to face ya know it didn’t turn out well.”

The boat weighs 3500# + or – but mostly +. The trailer winch will exert 1500# force on the first wrap. With each successive wrap the force lessens until on the final wrap of the drum it only exerts 700#. I must still deal with a lot of weight and a lot of force so, at first, I transfer most of the weight to the hydraulic jacks. One might say I am floating the boat on the backs of the Jacks. By raising the front of the boat with the stern still resting in the sand and letting the trailer come up in the air as I winch, I steal away much of the weight and the friction. The trailer wedges its way farther and farther aft until a point of balance is reached and the trailer stop moving under the boat and the boat then comes off the ground and slides the final distance into place. Simple! Yes, just not easy. The requirement is greater and greater force.

And this brings us to the block and tackle; mostly it’s the story of the blocks, the tackle having changed out a few times over the years. There are three blocks; one double sheave, one double sheave with a becket and one single sheave. Together they can exert a force 6 times greater than that applied to the working line. So my 1500# of force from the winch can be multiplied to 9000#. But this story is so much more than friction and force, for in these three pulleys are the visible reminder of all the boats I’ve own over the last thirty years.

I found them in the gift shop aboard the sailing ship Star of India in San Diego, 1981. They were so stout and lovely in the way sailors see things as lovely and so full of possibility. They made the perfect gift to my beautiful little Choey Lee Frisco Flyer, STORM TREE waiting to sail back on Puget Sound, so bought them with the last of my spending money for the month and stayed onboard when shipmates went to town, sanding and varnishing them. In those days I varnished them regularly and used them for sheet blocks and handy-billys and to climb the mast, and when I sold the boat, I kept the blocks. On my Monk Cutter, AURORA, they served as preventers and down hauls and up hauls and of course, mast climbers. (How to up-haul one’s self to the masthead, alone, we’ll discuss another time). On AVANTI, I’ve climbed the mast, main and mizzen, more times than I can remember. On the CAP’N LEM, they were instrumental in getting the boat on and off the flatbed truck the day I brought her to Goose Bay to spend the long winter on the hard.

Now, once again, these three wonderfully useful things have allowed me to do something far greater than is in my strength of arm and hand. When all is done, I think I will once again take them apart, clean them and grease them, shine the brass keepers and varnish them bright. There is still great beauty left in the teak of their cheeks and today my respect for them is renewed. They have moved the CAP’N LEM 288 inches!

Toblocked

Toblocked

The Heavy Lift, Part I

June 19th, 2010

The CAP’N LEM rests on the ground and needs to be floating in the water. That’s why I towed her trailer 4414 miles to Happy Valley-Goose Bay Labrador. No small undertaking was that in its own right! But that problem is so far behind me as to be nearly forgotten in the challenge of the next move. There are 24 feet from the bow of the boat to the front of the trailer. So the distance from Port Angeles to Goose Bay has come down to this, 288 inches.

In hope some will find these sorts of problems and the various methods of solving them interesting. I’ll undertake a description of how I managed to move 4000 lbs of from the ground onto the trailer… by myself. I’ll also try to give some insight in the thinking process behind the maneuvers, too.

First, it is “SAFETY FIRST!” The Laws of Murphy, like a polar bear at a seal hole, waits to smite me at the slightest violation. I think the first question I would want to know then is “why alone! Isn’t that a little un-safe?” My logic here is by working alone, I can take my time and time is my ally. I need the time and freedom that comes with it to stop, sit back, look, think, rest, walk around and talk to myself. I need to have only one set of ideas at a time, mine. I’ve never done this before and I must to be able to think it through at every stage.

The friends I’ve met here are wonderful and would come to help in a minute if I ask, but this task needs be done without hast. If someone were standing around waiting to help, I’d tend to hurry. I simply must do it alone. Besides, they have already helped in so many ways. Roy loaned me his chain saw, Philip let me stay in his parking lot and use his electricity. Glenn welded up a crack in the spare tire bracket. I’m not without resources here.

THE RULES OF ENGAGMENT: Never be under something that can fall on you. Block before lifting, re-block after. Never put your hand between something that can snap shut, fall down, pinch closed, or otherwise dismember. Never perform an action without first thinking, sometimes long and hard, about all possible reactions. Never forget you can’t think of everything. Know where your hands, feet, head and body are located at all times. Listen, many things will tell you they are breaking before they break. Be aware, be afraid, be careful.

With all this in mind, I back the trailer to the bow of the CAP’N LEM, unhook from Thumper (the trailer must float free to find its own way under the boat), sweep clear the runners of road rocks and grit and commence the lift.

Oh the wonders of hydraulics! Hydraulics is a gift of the gods. I am extremely grateful for my little red 6-ton hydraulic jack, Jack. With it, I have changed tires in the rain, (flats only happen to me in the rain) and lifted boats. I used it against a tree to force Thumper back into shape when repairing the wind storm damage. Heck, I believe I could move a mountain with it if only I had the faith.

The first stage is not to pull the boat onto the trailer but to pull the trailer under the boat. Jack lifts the bow and I winch the winch, inch by inch. First inch done, so far so good, only 287 inches to go. Hard by the yard, cinch by the inch! I use dunnage to keep Jack from sinking in the sand and to keep from poking holes in the hull. The principle here is spread the load. If one jack is good, two would be great! So I get another jack, (No I didn’t name the new one Jill. I don’t have time for such foolishness. I simply call them both, Jack.)

My quest is to overcome, gravity and friction. Gravity holds things down and friction holds things sideways. I need to go up and forward and to do this I must rely on the ancient principle of the incline plane. I’m told it’s what the Egyptians used to build the pyramids. Personally I think they used magic, but I have to use what I have at hand. So the trailer becomes my wedge.  Block & tackle becomes my hammer.

To be continued…

Capt. Lem meet Jack

Capt. Lem meet Jack

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The Wedge

The Wedge