Answers from Fred

In answer to my previous quaere to Fred about how to tie off my line, he gave this thoughtful response:

When the other end of the line is drawn through the loop and pulled tight, hold the tension by pinching the intersection of loop and line, and secure it with a single half-hitch made with a bight of the loose line. Do not draw the line all the way through the half-hitch--leave the bight and a tail so that it is easy to undo.

Simple enough.

Then I followed up with the question as to how to best secure two lines together. His response was the sheet bend, of course.

I did some research into the sheet bend, and it seems an eminently simple knot to tie, something I should be able to master with six to eight weeks of diligent practice.

Here is an illustration of a secure, correct sheet bend: What could be simpler?

Of course, here is an illustration of an insecure sheet bend, something liable to blow apart at any moment, causing wreck and ruin:DISASTER!

What, you are asking yourself, is the difference?

I wish I could tell you. Clearly the tail end of the rope is pointing up, rather than down. Beyond that, however? I'm not sure.
Which is bad, as my very life could depend on it.

Quaere for Fred

Freddd,

I have a question about lashing.
I have found that a good way to make something nice and tight is to put a loop at the end of a line, and then run the line around whatever it is you are trying to secure, running the end of the rope back through the loop. By pulling back against itself, you can make it quite tight.
However, how best to secure that loose end so that all of the tension you've leveraged is not lost?

I've gone so far as to add a second loop, to double the tensioning power:But that does not solve the dilemma of how to tie it off in the end without, as I say, losing whatever tension I have managed in the first place.

Surely there is some perfect knot for this purpose?

Ship's Log: 19 September 2010; Sail Ho!

Date: Sunday, 13 June 2010
Time: 2:01 p.m.
Location: 41° 46' 12" North; 88° 9' 30" West
Conditions: 77 degrees, skies clear but threatening, light but variable winds
Crew: Self, Master; Henry, Midshipman

Yesterday made the triumphant debut of the Ruddy Duck as sailing vessel.
Midshipman Henry and I loaded up the Duck, the paddles, and the sail, and headed up to the Forest Preserve lake -- this was to have been the destination of our upriver overnight excursion. It was easier to drive.

When we got there, however, The Man kept us down. All kinds of things about "registering your boat with the state" and "permits" and "substantial fines". I had Henry look as much like a dying-boy's-last-wish-is-to-go-sailing-with-his-dad-this-last-time, but to no avail.

So we turned around and went back to the Mighty DuPage River, to the same embarcation point as our previously logged voyage. (This is not the location of the videotaped sea trials, but the spot from which Henry and I departed the day we went over the rapids.)

Upstream of the rapids, the river is wide, slow and shallow. The current is mellow enough to give the impression of floating in a pond. (Incidentally, when we were right out in the middle, in what should be the deepest point, I shoved my paddle down into the water until it hit bottom. Which was about 18 inches. So even if we had a major catastrophe and overturned, even Henry could just stand up, and the water would only be up to his knees.)

It was more challenging than I had expected to rig the sail with the Duck in the water. I think this was mostly due to my incredibly unseamanlike way of storing the sail. I know in my heart that it should have been precicely furled to the yard, lashed with evenly-spaced turns of cordage, with all loose ends coiled neatly. Instead, it was all just kind of bunched up together. Disgraceful.

The end result being that I got the spar onto the mast backwards, making all of the blocks (again: sailor-ese for 'pulleys') reversed, and I had to basically un-rig all of the rigging and re-rig it, with the mast stepped into a bobbing boat. Also, all of the loose ends dropped into the water, which made a bit of a mess in the boat. Before going out again, I'll re-furl the sail to the yard in a much more seamanlike manner.

Eventually, though, I got it rigged, the mast stepped, and the yard raised, with the sail furled to the yard:
I do have to say, it is particularly gratifying to be out on the water and have people line the banks making complimentary comments. (The Naperville RiverWalk is exactly as you picture it: lined with families, children, old couples walking together, people walking dogs . . . it is like living in a Norman Rockwell painting.)

But then came the moment of truth. Letting the sail fly and trying it out.

Which almost did not happen. The winds were light and variable, but once we got out on the water and in position, they completely died. We were becalmed. I tried to explain to Henry about the Doldrums. (Nautical fact: The condition "the doldrums", that feeling of being kind of lazily bored (like a 12-year-old), is named after The Doldrums, the region around the equator where the heat and currents essentially kill the wind. A ship can be flying along at 12 knots, and then hit the Doldrums and come to a standstill for weeks.)

The prevailing wind, when there was one, was easterly (which, if I'm not mistaken, meant that it was out of the east and blowing to the west.) Which worked out perfectly, as what scant current there is in that stretch of the DuPage is in the opposite direction. My plan was to float downstream with the current, stopping just short of the rapids we shot last time out, bringing the boat about (that means 'turning around'), and sailing back upstream.

So we did just that: with the sail furled to the yard, we floated downstream a couple hundred yards, came about, and let fly.

I taught Henry several useful nautical terms during the voyage:
port: left
starboard: right
mainsail: the primary sail of a ship; in our case the only sail
haul: to pull on a rope
let fly: to let go of a rope
belay: stop whatever it is you're doing

So, as I said, I brought the boat about, and ordered Henry to "Let fly!". He released the halyards and the sail dropped. Not much happened at first, but I trimmed the sail a bit with the sheets (see the yellow lines in the previous illustrations), eventually catching the light wind.

And we started moving upstream.
IT WORKED!
We got up to the top of the pool, I had Henry haul on the lines and hoist the sail to the yard, and we came about and floated back downstream and did it all again.

On the third time up, the wind gusted for about 30 seconds and we actually got a little ripple of water along the side of the boat. We were going maybe jogging speed, nothing dramatic, but to be moving against the current, at any sort of speed, using the sail I designed and built . . . was very gratifying.

We came up with a couple of modifications/further developments to make it easier to hoist/let fly: I'm going to add a couple of blocks to the crossmember that the halyards will run through to make it easier for Henry to hoist the sail to the yard. Also, I'll add a couple of cleats to hold these once the sail is up. Yesterday, when we were floating back downstream, Henry had to hold onto the ropes hard to keep the sail up (so we didn't get blown backwards upstream.) I don't know if I'll get standard cleats that he'll have to wrap the rope around, figure-eight to lock it, or cool and modern cam cleats, which are springloaded clips that you just put the rope into and it holds . . .

It was good.

Rudder Update (belated)

I'm sorry it has been so long since I've written. I made some HUGE progress on the boat, and even took it out, a couple of months ago. But immediately thereafter we went to Colorado, and then I got back and almost moved to Scotland, and then the opera season started and I just haven't had two minutes to type.

I think the last I posted (in JUNE!) was the sail mockup, with the crossbrace for the mast held on by clamps, and the canvas loosely draped over the spar to give some idea of how it might work.

The following weekend (the July 4 weekend), I bit the bullet and permanently added the mast brace and secured the step of the mast onto the bottom of the boat, using the very last of my fiberglass epoxy.

You'll notice that I also added some half-decking, for and aft, to close the bow and stern of the boat. There was no practical reason to do this (and I've lately found a pretty good reason to have not done this, so those will likely disappear.)

Once I got the mast step locked into place and capable of sustaining load, it was time to rig the sail. For Reals, as the mariners say.

I lashed the sail tightly to the spar with short lengths of cordage.Red arrows indicate the lashing of sail to spar

Having done that, it was merely a matter of laying along the running rigging and hoisting the sail. As you may recall, I spent some time thinking about this in advance, and came up with this plan:
It was merely a matter of putting those plans to practice.

And, voila!:

Here is the halyard, highlighted in blue, to match the drawing:
The idea was to simply pull on the halyards, and up would rise the sail to its yard.
And, you know what?

IT WORKED!
It ultimately takes three sets of ropes to work the sail: The first are the halyards for dropping the sail from the spar (explained and highlighted in blue, above.)

There is also the main halyard to raise the spar itself (and battened sail) from the base of the mast to the top of the mast, highlighted below in red. It is secured to the spar (horizontal pole), run through the center block (pulley) at the top of the mast, and then straight down to the crossbrace and lashed (tied off) at the base when the sail is raised. If you untie this and let it go, the entire sail, spar and all, will drop to the deck.
And finally, there are the sheets, which run from the clews (bottom outer corners of the sail) back to the stern of the vessel (what I will somewhat indulgently call the quarter deck), highlighted below in yellow:
When the sail is lowered and drawing, I simply need pull (or let fly) one or both of those to change the direction and tautness of the sail.

Of course, I have yet to try this in practice. I did take the Ruddy Duck out subsequent to assembling this mast rig, but I had both boys and left the mast at home. So it has yet to be sea tested.

You can see from this illustration, though, that, with everything rigged properly and a breeze from abaft the beam, it should work well.
I am pleased.