Using a Tulikivi Soapstone heater in New England

When we were trying to research whether to install our soapstone masonry heater, it was really hard to find any actual information. That was seven years ago, and in that time we have come to really enjoy our Tulikivi. Having said that, it is not the right fit for everyone and I thought it might be helpful to go over the pros and cons so that if anyone out there is considering installing a heater like ours, you might have a little more to go on.

The nuts and bolts: Our house is approximately 1200 square feet, it is well insulated with closed cell foam, however, it is also over 200 years old, so no amount of insulating will match a new home. We live in the white mountains of New Hampshire, average wintertime temperatures range between 15° and 30° F. We also typically get approximately 15-20 days when it is much colder, yesterday, for example,  when I got up it was 2° outside.

What we installed; a Tulikivi four chamber heater that weighs 5000 pounds and can handle a maximum wood burn of 40 lbs in 12 hours.

So what are the advantages and disadvantages?

Lets start with the advantages:

-The stove is lit twice a day for relatively fast burns and then is shut down. Unlike a woodstove it does not have to be continually tended and unlike a woodstove you don’t get huge fluctuations in heat. Instead you get a steady radiant heat for 12 hours after each burn.

-The surface of the heater stays at a relatively constant temperature throughout the day varying from 90° to 120° F, depending on the part of the heater and the time of the day. So, with the exception of the metal and glass door, the surfaces are safe to the touch. This also means you can close the heater down after the morning burn and leave the house for the day knowing you have a safe source of constant heat.

-The way the heater operates results in a very complete burn including combustion of gasses that would normally end up in the atmosphere from a conventional woodstove. In fact the burn is so complete and efficient that it is considered a “green” heating source and at the time that we installed the heater we got a serious tax break for converting to green energy. The completeness of the burn also means that very little ash is produced, perhaps a gallon-and-a-half per week at the height of winter. The amount of soot produced in the chimney and burn chambers is almost insignificant. We do clean the chimney and burn chambers once a year in the fall but it takes about an hour and produces very little in the way of ash and almost no creosote at all.

-Because of both the efficiency of the burn and the fact that the heater does not have to be fed all day long, it burns less wood than a conventional wood stove. We burn between three and three-and-a-half cords of wood per year.

-The Tulikivi soapstone heater was developed in Finland and Scandinavia over several centuries of trial and error. The reason that is significant is that because of the scarcity of hardwoods and the high value of the hardwoods that do grow in that meant there was a reluctance to burn hardwoods for heat unless the wood was already determined to be scrap or not high enough quality for construction, furniture, or boatbuilding. Consequentially, the heater was developed to burn any kind of wood, hardwood or softwood, so long as it is dry. So, it is safe to burn any kind of wood with no adverse affects to the heater. This is not the case with all masonry heaters.

-Because of the high temperature of the burns and the fact that the heater is only lit twice a day, you don’t end up with the smoke in your house that often results from having to open the wood stove many times a day with a smoldering fire. In fact Allergists recommend masonry heaters for many patients who heat with wood for just that reason.

-Lastly, it is beautiful. The soapstone is smooth to the touch, visitors often can’t help but caress our heater, it is easy to keep clean, the roaring fire morning and night is something that brings great enjoyment and literal warmth to the home.

So what are the drawbacks of this heater?

-First off is the price. You can expect to spend three to four times as much for a Tulikivi heater than for a new woodstove. That puts a lot of people off right there.

-Second is the size of the heater. Ours is 6 feet high, 3.4 feet wide, and 2.5 feet deep, and that is considered to be a relatively small heater since we have a small home.

The weight of the heater required that I build a foundation under the floors to take the weight, which is an additional cost.

-Third is the wood itself. It must be dry, and that does not mean what feels dry, it means wood that has been properly dried for at least a year. This is the part that too many people don’t factor in. You need to be cutting, splitting and storing wood at least a year in advance, which means space to store and dry that wood. We may only burn three cords of wood a year but have enough roofed storage for seven cords of wood in two sheds, this year’s wood in one shed and next year’s wood in another.

Two woodsheds, one for this year’s wood and one drying next year’s wood.

-While we are talking about wood, it is true that you can burn any kind of wood but the species still matters. The BTUs produced burning wood varies a lot from species to species. This is why the quantity of the burn is measured in weight not volume; 40 pounds of white pine is a lot more wood than 40 pounds of ash. Furthermore, different species of wood dry at different rates, for example ash can be completely dry in ten months after it has been cut and split and stored properly. Red Oak on the other hand takes two full years to completely dry. Yet a further drawback is the size of the pieces. In order to get short, hot burns the individual pieces of wood need to be small, 12 to 14 inches in length and not much bigger around than your forearm. If you are cutting and splitting your own wood, that means much more work, if you are purchasing wood, it may be harder to find someone willing to cut and split to the size you need, or you may have to pay more per cord. One last thing on wood, since you need to start a fresh fire morning and night, you need to have a ready and significant supply of kindling.

-Tools and time. If you are going to cut and split your own wood, you need to have the tools to do so. Those will cost money. We are lucky in that a neighbor loans us his commercial chipper to clean up after taking down trees. All he asks is that we supply the fuel for the chipper. Dealing with the branches and the mess of taking down trees is not something many people think enough about and frankly, I find that it is the worst part of harvesting firewood.

-Schedule. This is important; you can’t randomly fire up the heater, or fire it up when you are cold. Burns need to be 12 hours apart, minimum. That means firing up the heater at roughly the same time every morning in cold weather and then again twelve hours later. This may not sound like a big deal, but if you don’t get up every morning at roughly the same time, like to sleep in hours later on a weekend for example, it can really cause problems. The same is true in the evenings, if you like to go out a lot you either have to schedule around burn times, or this kind of heat won’t work for you.

-Temperature control; this is another of those things that is both and advantage and a drawback at the same time. The heat that is produced is a steady predictable heat, but you can’t just turn it up. If you calculate the size of your heater correctly, you will find that most of the time a simple two burns a day will keep your home comfortable, in the fall and the spring, you may even find that one burn a day will prove adequate to keep your home comfortable. However, if you live in an area where you have sudden deep drops in temperature, as we do, you will not be able to get more heat out of the Tulikivi by making bigger burns.  Burning more than the maximum amount of recommended wood per burn simply puts more heat up the chimney, not into the house and you can damage the heater. All of this means you need to have a second heat source. Another wood stove, propane heater, electric heat, or oil heat, for those days that the temperature really drops. This is also true if you live in a place where there is a month or two a year where the temperature can vary a lot in spring and summer. The soapstone heater takes almost twelve hours to reach temperature when it has not been lit in a while, so you are not going to get instant heat. We have days in the fall and spring when it can be 70° at midday, but 35° that same night, having a way to rapidly compensate for extreme temperature shifts becomes an important part of your overall heating plan.

Given all the drawbacks, you might be wondering why anybody would want to install this kind of heater. The answer to that essentially comes down to lifestyle. Obviously this isn’t going to be a good solution for most city dwellers, or for people who’s work hours vary a lot. For us though, it has been a good match. We live in a rural area, have property that had become heavily overgrown when we took it on, so, careful select cutting of trees each year on different parts of the property has actually improved the forest health and most of our fuel comes from our own land.  That wood is not free though, it takes time to harvest, cut, split, stack and move. On the other hand, those are all activities that I pretty much enjoy and I would much rather do than go to a gym.  (To give you some reference; our best estimate after heating this way for seven seasons is that we spend between 48 and 50 hours a year harvesting, cutting, splitting, and stacking wood).

I really like the seasonal shifts that take us through harvesting, stacking, and burning of our own fuel. We like that most of our heat each winter does not involve fossil fuel, although, between the chipper and chain saw we do consume about ten gallons of gasoline a year. We like that our fuel is renewable, even on our own land. We like being home in the evenings, and I an a habitual early riser, getting up and lighting the fire to me is just like making the coffee, part of getting up in the winter. The other issues that pointed us in this direction for heat are that we do not have dry basement space to install an oil furnace, and even if we did, the cost of that installation, the ducting or piping to heat the house all add up to more than what we paid for our soapstone heater. There is no natural gas available in our area, propane is expensive, and in all three instances we would be dependent on fossil fuels that come to us from far away. For us, given our lifestyle, where we live, and how we like to spend our time, this was a good choice, and one we have never regretted, but it is not for everybody.

So if you are considering a masonry heater, or a Tulikivi in particular, I hope this was helpful.

Boat Rolling Jig

Our Penny Fee sailing tender needs to be turned over from time to time so that we can do a more thorough job of sanding and painting her bottom and boot top. Moving an 800-pound boat off the trailer and turning it over without getting hurt or damaging the boat has always been a daunting process. It is possible to invite ten strong friends over and do it that way but even that takes more organization than I would like.

I have been thinking about this for some time and when I was given three pieces of used 5/8” plywood, I thought it was time to come up with a better, safer way to take care of this evolution.

What I came up with is based loosely on a method that I have seen illustrated in several boat-building journals. The idea is to unload the boat from the trailer into the bottom half of a jig that cradles the boat, then place the top half of the jig over the gunwales of the boat and attach the top half of the jig to the bottom half.

If you look at the illustration you see that one half of the completed jig forms half of a large circle with the boat positioned in the middle of the jig.

This allows one person to roll boat and jig over easily as the video shows.

Once the boat has been turned over, remove the bottom half of the jig (which is now on the top of the overturned boat) to work on the bottom of the boat.

When you have completed your yearly chores, reassemble the jig and roll it back over.

In order to make this a one-person job, I also constructed a simple jig to support the stern of the boat and lift it slightly so that the boat is supported and stable while the trailer is slowly rolled most of the way out from under the boat. By lifting the boat a few inches, this jig also makes it easier to slide the parts of the jig under the boat to set them up. The stern jig can then be used to lower the boat down into the cradle of the main rollover jig. The stern support is raised and lowered simply by tapping two large wedges either in to raise it or out to lower it.

All the parts of the jig that touch the boat are covered with carpet to protect the finish on the boat.

The jigs took about five hours to build. Set up time is about twenty minutes and break down time is about ten minutes.

I spent money on three ten-foot 2x6s, two eight-foot 2x4s, three eight-foot 2x6s, and a box of screws. It was worth it.

YouTube Channels: a few observations…

Both the woman who will willingly get up in the middle of the night and stand anchor watch, and I try to keep up with our connections in the maritime world.  We subscribe to at least six maritime oriented magazines, talk with and socialize with a fairly wide circle of other sailors, and even read something called newspapers. I should say that I spend almost no time on social media and rely on the woman who will willingly get up in the middle of the night and stand anchor watch to let me know if something interesting in the marine world pops up on facebook. It has only been in the last few years that I have become at least peripherally aware of YouTube channels on sailing and boating. I have not spent a great deal of time looking at these channels, nor, based on what I have seen, do I intend to in the future. Now, before anyone takes offense, just realize that I would rather be doing than watching anyway; so vicarious sailing is not really my thing.

I am not hear to bash anybody and your tastes may be very different than my own when it comes to YouTube videos, so let me just say that a number of channels are either about sailing in the tropics: been there, don’t like the heat and humidity, or crossing oceans, and my personal feeling is that leaving is great and arriving is great, the middle, not so much. So that rules out a lot of channels for me. Secondly, a number of channels that are truly about sailing tend to be almost exclusively about sailing modern cruising boats, which means they spend a significant amount of time explaining how they maintain the multiple systems on the boat, or how they can’t get parts for the systems on their boat, which doesn’t particularly interest me either. There also seem to be a number of channels that are more about the relationships between members of the crew as they sail to wherever, which frankly turns my stomach. However, if any of that stuff sounds fun to you it looks like there is a lot to watch, and that’s fine too. Just because it is not my thing does not mean it isn’t interesting, it’s just not interesting to me.

Now that I have gotten that out of the way, there are four channels that have caught my interest. I think each is unique and each has something to offer. Two are truly sailing related and then two are strictly speaking about boat building (in wood).

First on my list is Dylan Winter’s Keep Turning Left. Dylan’s goal was to inexpensively circumnavigate the British Isles. I have not watched all of his work, or even the majority of it, nor do I realistically think I am going to get around to binge watching his episodes (or anything else for that matter, I have wooden boats remember) but I will say his posts are extremely well made, and quite captivating.  He has been at this since 2008 and before that he worked professionally in video so the quality is outstanding. His most recent videos are just short sailing shots, but his longer episodes are worth watching. Full of current impressions, observations of nature, and historical narrative, Dylan is an incredibly well spoken narrator, capable of exploiting the richness of the English language, not above expressing a personal opinion, and brings a knowledge of craft to his posts that put his work firmly in the realm of professional film worth watching, head and shoulders above everything else I have seen. So that’s my recommendation for you armchair sailors, check out Keep Turning Left.

Next on the list is Tom Cunliffe. If you don’t know who Tom is, you are probably not familiar with the gaff rig. Tom has sailed the world’s oceans, mostly on traditional rigs, writes for Classic Boat magazine, has written a number of books, and is both knowledgeable and witty. It is true that many of his videos are short and he just speaks to the camera from an interesting location, but his use of language and his definitive statements are both educational and entertaining. I am biased since most of what Tom espouses are opinions that I share, that said, there are very few sailors who have had the experiences that Tom has lived through and he is worth listening to for that reason alone.

Third on my list is Acorn to Arabella. This is two guys, Alex and Steve, who have taken on the task of building a wooden boat starting with cutting down the trees and going from there. They are not professional boat builders, are learning as they go, and are trying to document their learning curve mistakes and all. What started as documentation of building a boat has taken on a bit of a cult following. They are now pretty well supported on Patreon and have some support from Jamestown Distributors as well. I have certainly not watched all their videos since some of it is pretty basic stuff filmed in detail, but parts are quite engaging and the editing of their videos is quite good.

The last, but arguably best on my list is Sampson Boat Co.

Sailor and professionally trained boat builder, Leo Gooden has taken on the restoration, really the complete rebuild, of a century old famous Albert Strange sailing yacht, Tally Ho.  He started financing the project himself and now he too is supported through Patreon and donations. He has a huge following, partly because the skill set and craftsmanship filmed is outstanding and a bit mesmerizing to watch, but I think principally because his ability as a boat builder is matched by his ability as a filmmaker. The videos are beautifully shot, well narrated, and most significantly, extremely well edited. They are both entertaining and enlightening, most of all, the vessel is magnificent and the work being done, superb.

In my humble opinion I think his videos are more watchable than anything on television.

The COVID Cruise

One of the events we look forward to every year is a two-week cruise down east. The planning for this starts soon after the winter holidays and is part of the fun. This year with the arrival of the pandemic, we went ahead and made the best plans we could with the limited knowledge available regarding travel across state lines and restrictions that may, or may not be in place when summer rolled around.

We made two assumptions that proved false. One was that there would be fewer boats in the water and the other was that we would not be socializing with friends on the water.

The first assumption was partly true in that there were some familiar boats that simply never appeared this year. It was also true that we saw more empty moorings in some places, but we also saw many boats that we had never seen before that appeared and took up a summer, or partial-summer residence in the part of central Maine where we normally sail. Some of these were mega yachts from away and from what we could see, they were being used as places to escape the pandemic. Some might have even been used as “home offices”. The result was a combination of empty moorings in places we did not expect and full anchorages in places that are rarely occupied. The other area where we saw more boats were in politically motivated boat parades.

While I understand that too many Americans have chosen to define themselves (and limit themselves) by who they voted for or who they are going to vote for; a sad state of affairs in and of itself, but for individuals to join in a political boat parade waving flags is an even sadder statement. I say this for two reasons; one is that I personally believe politics should stop at the water’s edge, something I always thought was a more metaphorical than literal expression until this COVID summer, and secondly we observed that when political parades reach the water’s edge, rules of the road, no wake areas, and basic courtesy to other boaters apparently no longer apply.

When the woman who will willingly get up in the middle of the night and stand an anchor watch and I meet other boaters, what we have always talked about, what has always drawn us together, is boats. We talk about cruising areas, moorings, boatyards, fog, storms, and maintenance issues, seamanship, local history, boaters we know in common, and of course yarns and tall tales; we are sailors after all. This has allowed us to make friends with all kinds of boaters in all kinds of watercraft.

The point is that we have made friends and stayed friends with many wonderful people who might not agree with our political views on a single issue. Our shared love of the water and being on it is the bond of our friendships and I would hate to see that lost. Part of what we love about being on the water is that it is an escape from the toxic divisiveness that has become so much worse in the last few years. I recognize that it is an escape and I choose the word deliberately, what I am saying is that the waterborne political parades of this summer made it harder to escape.

The second assumption, the one where we thought we would not be able to socialize on the water proved completely groundless. We assumed, wrongly, that because we could not have guests aboard there would be extremely limited opportunities to socialize with other boaters. What we found in our home harbor, and particularly on our cruise is that, if anything, we socialized more; we just did it from a distance. Our cruise was a case in point. Since all of the scheduled summer boating events we had planned to attend were cancelled and we were no longer bound to those schedules we decided to set out on a slightly shorter cruise later in the season than we normally do. Part of our thinking was based on the fact that much of July the weather had been fairly unstable and we hoped early August might provide us with a more stable weather pattern. It didn’t.

The middle of our eight-day cruise collided with a tropical storm, and we headed for a hurricane hole that we knew would provide shelter but where we might just be sitting on the boat for three days out of the eight of our intended cruise. It was a disappointing prospect but you can’t change the weather.

We had some great sailing getting to the hurricane hole and worked our way in carefully since the approach is a bit tricky and someone directed us to an empty mooring owned by people we know. At least we were safe. Soon other boats came in looking for shelter from the storm. The first one in was a beautiful classic that picked up the mooring next to us and we quickly struck up a conversation across the water based on the beauty and the uniqueness of our two sailing vessels, and of course it turned out we knew people in common.

Here we are in our hurricane hole waiting for the storm.

To our great surprise and delight, the next boat in was that of a good friend of ours and he took the mooring ahead of us. Two more boats came in owned by people we are at least acquainted with, or whom we had met before. Before you knew it we were rowing around talking to people from our tender and many of the other boaters did the same. No one boarded another boat unless they were family members or had been through quarantine, we certainly never boarded anyone else’s boat, nor did anyone board ours, but the ship visiting was extensive. We ended up visiting some of the few boats we did not know either because they had beautiful and interesting boats or because it felt rude to be visiting every boat around them and not at least introduce ourselves. 

The storm blew through and the most we saw in our sheltered spot was a brief period of thirty-mile-an-hour gusts but the weather remained unsettled and the seas high for the next several days. One boat left early but ran into seven-foot head seas and returned with a torn mainsail. Meanwhile, we sailed our tender in the protected waters of the cove when the winds dropped enough to make that a safe activity, and continued to visit with and be visited by the other sailors who shared our sheltered spot. When the weather finally abated to a more predictable pattern, we cast off and were frankly worn out with socializing.

The common themes of conversations were boating and how the pandemic had affected everyone’s plans. There were those, like us who had curtailed their plans, there were those who extended their cruises since they could not do the things that usually occupy much of their summers on land. Some worried about even being allowed to return to their home harbors. There was disappointment expressed certainly, and even some exasperation and frustration, but sailors tend to be a somewhat fatalistic lot, accepting of what is beyond their control, and thankfully not one person brought up politics.

At the time I was prepared to chalk our social experience during the tropical storm to the drawing together of sailors in a storm, but the weekends that we anchored away or went for three and four-day cruises, we found ourselves repeatedly in situations where we met old friends or made new ones in shared anchorages. It was as if the deprivation of social activity on land made it safer or more desirable to approach other boaters and strike up a conversation.

So something good and unexpected came out of our summer, cruising proved to be the one time we actually got a chance to talk to real people…from a safe distance.

Winterizing

When I was a kid a lot of the boat owners I knew winterized their own boats. It did not seem to be a money saving move in most cases but rather a case of wanting to oversee the process and make sure it was done right. I am not sure what percentage of boat owners winterize their own boats now, but we do and I apply many of the tricks that I learned as a kid and some that were learned through experience.

            While going through these seasonal chores a few weeks ago, the woman who will willingly get up in the middle of the night and stand anchor watch asked me if I had ever written down all the steps we go through to make the boat safe and snug for the winter months (she likes lists) I realized that I never had.

Before I list everything we do, I need to say that since we haul the boat home each year and park her in her shed, we un-rig the boat and un-step the mast each fall. That means before the boat even makes it home, we have gone over all the spars and all the rigging and made notes as to what might need work or to be replaced before spring. This list, then leads to a second list of materials that we will need to purchase over the fall and winter. The other step that is part of this process is that every piece of rigging gets a label. The rigging and blocks are then hung up on the walls of the boat shed where they can be easily accessed during the winter months.

Once all that is done and the boat delivered home we can start the winterizing process.

So, for what it is worth here is the basic list:

-The sails are taken off the boat and, depending on the weather when they were struck, they are checked over, note taken of any tears or wear to be repaired, then they are refolded and stowed in their bags which are then moved to the sail loft.

-Next, all food and drink is removed from the boat.

-Clothing and slickers from the season are removed and stored.

-All the cushions, pillows, bedding, and towels are packed up in designated storage bags and moved into the sail loft which is bug-proof and rodent proof, but well ventilated.

-Charts, cruising guides, log books, and all reading material are taken off and stored in a dry place.

-Oil lamps, the alcohol stove and the fuel for these are also removed to dry storage.

-The china, glassware, pots and pans, are all removed and stored in sealed Tupperware tubs.

-We empty out the bosun’s locker and all other lockers and store the contents in dry storage.

-First aid supplies, sun block, and cleaning supplies all get removed and put in heated dry storage.

-Cupboard doors are removed or opened, portlights are opened, but screens left in place.

-Any ventilators that do not have screens have screens placed in them to keep out unwelcome winter visitors.

-Small vents that wasps might nest in are plugged.

-The bilge is mopped out. There is always a pocket of water there and you don’t want it to freeze and possibly damage seams.

-We will already have pumped out the holding tank while the boat was in the water and flushed four gallons of environmentally safe antifreeze through the system, now, with the boat in the shed it is time to disconnect the saltwater intake to the toilet pump from the through hull, stick the end of that hose into another gallon of antifreeze and using the toilet pump, empty that gallon of antifreeze through the toilet and into the holding tank. This keeps the pump from freezing. When finished we reconnect the hose to the through-hull and close the through-hull.

-Close all through-hulls and tape off any deck drains.

Drains taped off for winter

-Give the bottom of the boat a coat of bottom paint. This keeps the moisture in the wood of the hull and keeps the wood from shrinking over the winter. We have done this every year for twenty years and have very little leaking when we launch in the spring.

-Make sure that the diesel tank is toped up to prevent condensation.

-Any anchor rode that had been in salt water is taken off the boat and stacked on a wooden pallet to dry and to keep the rode locker from developing mildew.

-All life jackets and dock lines are taken off the boat and dried. Life jackets then get stored in the sail loft.

-Fire extinguishers are removed from the boat and stored in a dry place to be taken in for service in early spring.

-We place several containers of Kanberra gel in the boat, which helps to prevent mold and mildew.

-Towards the end of October we hook up a freshwater reservoir to the engine coolant intake and start the diesel. We then run the diesel while flushing fresh water through the cooling system for fifteen to twenty minutes. When we have done this we then flush two gallons of environmentally friendly antifreeze through the engine cooling system. This process flushes a lot of the salt out of the cooling system, leaves the cooling system with antifreeze in it and tops up the batteries for winter.

-The date and the time the engine was run are noted in the engine log along with any filters or fluids that were changed as recommended by the engine manual. Also noted is the total number of hours that the engine has been run. Comparing the current total number of hours to the total recorded last fall allows me to note and compare how much we used the engine this season and if any additional maintenance will be required.

-Mist the diesel with some light oil to prevent rust.

-Make sure all hatches are closed when we leave the boat.

While taking care of these tasks the clipboard is never far away. Come spring I can guarantee you I won’t remember what I noticed needed attention in the fall, so we write it down.

When we leave the boat we do a check to make sure that other than the boat-stands and the blocks she is sitting on, nothing is touching the boat, or even too close to the boat. All it takes is one item touching the hull and you have an invitation to a rodent to move aboard. One mouse can do a lot of damage. The local shop cat is quite possessive of what she considers to be her boat, so she too keeps an eye out for rodents through the winter.

Shop cat and her boat

One last note: the boat shed is quite deliberately built in a location where the ground tends to be a bit soggy except in the driest months of summer. This helps keep her tight but it also means that when the ground starts to freeze in the fall or begins to thaw in the spring I need to check the boat stands every two days and adjust them as needed. This keeps the boat stable and prevents any one spot from taking too much weight.

The Swing Bridge

Several times a year we need to pass through the swing bridge that joins Southport Island and West Boothbay in our Friendship sloop. The water the bridge spans is narrow and is characterized by strong tidal currents at all times other than slack at  absolute low and absolute high. The bridge opens on the half hour by request via VHF on channel 09. If you time your passage poorly you can have an interesting time trying to hold your position while maneuvering to stay clear of the many lobster-pot-buoys. Passing through is always a little nerve-racking, mostly because the timing can be even further complicated by other boat traffic in confined waters.

Passing through the swing bridge in the Friendship

On two occasions we have passed through the bridge in our Iain Oughtred designed Penny Fee tender, once last spring, and once this fall. Last spring when we passed through we rowed under the bridge while it was closed and with a favorable tide so that we could avoid most of the problems listed above, this fall our passage was a bit more dramatic.

One of my watercolors of our Penny Fee tender

The yard where we launch and haul out our Friendship is on one side of the bridge, our summer mooring and the ramp we use to haul out the Penny Fee is on the other.

In the third week of September we went though the bridge one way in the Friendship towing the Penny Fee, we put the Friendship on a mooring at the yard where she was to be hauled later in the week, we then stepped the mast and set the sail on the Penny Fee to sail back to the bridge where we planned to un-step the mast and row under it.

We had a fantastic sail passing near a 1926 Herreshoff racing machine as she set sail, we entered the Townsend Gut just as the tide started to turn in our favor and with a following wind fairly flew down the channel.

As we drew near the bridge we started to look for an empty mooring we could grab to make striking the sail and unstepping the mast easier. There was an empty mooring quite near the bridge and we headed for it, as we were about to pick up the mooring, I looked at my watch and noticed that the bridge was due to open any minute. It was only at this point that we realized that the two nearby powerboats were holding their position so that they could pass through on the opening.

In a snap decision, we did not pick up the mooring but tacked instead and made our way across the current to where the first powerboat waited, crossing their stern we asked if they minded us sailing through the bridge, and they graciously and enthusiastically urged us on.

Once again we turned downwind towards the bridge, which had begun to swing, but was not yet open. The current is quite strong just under the bridge and despite spilling wind from the sail we raced through the channel towards the place where, we hoped, the bridge would open momentarily. The sense of possible mishap was heightened by the fact that we had sailed out of the sunlight and into the dark shadow of the bridge. The gap appeared when we were only a few boat-lengths away and we squeaked through at a pretty good clip accompanied by a loud cheering compliment from the bridge keeper. The moment was euphoric, and fun, a momentary window had opened and an opportunity appeared with no warning and with no time for worry or second-guessing and we both saw that opportunity and seized on it. Luck certainly contributed much to our timing, the thrill and the unexpected nature of the adventure counteracted the sadness that we might have normally felt since this was technically the last day for us on the water.

We relived that passage over and over again on the drive home, a great way to end the season.

Last Sail of the Season

The summer of COVID has been extremely strange but at the same time we feel incredibly grateful that we have still been able to put our boats in the water and enjoy them. We decided back in March that if there was any way to put the Friendship into the water, we would. Wooden boats need to spend part of each year in the water to stay healthy and that was what we were committed to, we did not know back in March if we would even be allowed to go spend time on her, but we felt we needed to work towards getting her launched for whatever the season might bring.

As May and June came around we found we would be able to launch the boat with some restrictions on how that procedure would go and in what ways we could, and could not participate (for the first time in twenty years I was not there when they stepped the mast). At about the same time the state of Maine relaxed some restrictions on visitors from other states so that we could get to the boat and spend time using her. We spent every weekend on her and got in a week of cruising in August as well, and as I say, we are profoundly grateful for the good fortune to be able to enjoy a pastime and a vessel that has been central to our lives for decades. Socializing with sailing friends is typically a big part of our summer but we were sure that was not something we would enjoy this year. We were surprised to discover that although we never boarded their boats and they never boarded ours, conversations were held from one boat to another, from dinghy’s and tenders and we not only saw and spoke with many friends, but made some new one’s too. How very strange to be sitting in a tender an oar’s length away from friends chatting away about our sailing adventures, our boats, and our lives.

There are days, few in number, sometimes only once a year, where all the cards fall just right and you have spectacular day on the water that makes up for every day that fog holds you to your mooring, or storms change your plans. Our last sail of the season was one of those days. A crystal clear September day with perfect steady wind that allowed us to set our topsails as well as our lowers, few power boat wakes, and a perfect temperature. This short video clip gives just a taste of that sail:

A couple of modifications to the Penny Fee:

We are into our seventh full season with our Penny Fee design, Fee-Fi. In that time we have made some adjustments and improvements, most of which happened years ago but I just never got around to writing about them.

First off we made some adjustments to the rudder.

The bottom of the rudder, the part that kicks up, is aluminum and even though it has been painted with aluminum paint and bottom paint on top of that it was still showing too much corrosion at the end of each season. It looked like the main reason for this was that even when the bottom part of the rudder was pulled up it was right at the water level with very little clearance. We had to replace the aluminum once and at that time redesigned the upper part of the rudder so that when the kick-up part was in the “up” position it completely clears the water and is higher off the water.

New rudder design with the traveler and sliding block for the main sheet

We have stayed with the push-pull, or Scandinavian, tiller system but have made both the cross piece and tiller longer and out of nicer materials. Aside from the aesthetic qualities this has done two things for us; the longer tiller means that it is easier to steer from the center of the boat when sailing solo, and the longer cross piece has made room for the addition of a traveler for the main sheet.

The bilge.

Another change that we made during our second season was something I had never originally considered and that was the addition of a bilge pump. Now the reason that I never considered this in the first place is that glued lap-strake and epoxy boats are basically leak proof, however, I forgot about rain. After a rainy week it sometimes took twenty minutes to bail the boat. After working so hard to make a leak-less boat, the idea of drilling a hole in the boat for a thru-valve fitting for the bilge pump to empty water out of the boat was one I could not face. Along the same lines, having a hose draped over the side seemed both cumbersome and something that would have to be taken apart and set back up again each time we wanted to use the boat. What we did instead was to mount the pump on one side of the centerboard well and a float switch on the other. Both pump and switch are wired to a motorcycle battery mounted in a box up under the underside of the mid-ships thwart seat. The pump is plumbed not to the outside of the boat but instead to the side of the centerboard well right at the top of the well. Water exits the boat through the centerboard well. This has been a good solution for us since most of the time we just forget the pump is there.

The bilge pump

The float switch with battery box just above it

Summary:

We love our big Friendship sloop, she is our summer home, a place to recharge, entertain, and this year at least, to quarantine. But the addition of our sailing tender has brought so much more fun to cruising. There have been so many times where taking out the Friendship would have been a lot like work, especially if you only have an hour or two to go for a sail, but we can jump into the tender, have the sail rigged in minutes and be off on a short adventure, gunk-holing, exploring the shallows, and of course moving people and gear to and from the boat. When cruising we sometimes get to a secluded anchorage a bit early so that we can get a good spot to anchor, then go for a sail in Fee-Fi. It’s a double sailing day, two kinds of sailing on two different boats in the same day. What could be better?

The refrigerator light

In writing about the high tech solution to our icebox on the Friendship sloop, I don’t want to forget the lighting for the icebox. The hatch at the top of the box is partly under the bridge deck making it one of the darkest work places in the galley, it is particularly frustrating when one is looking down into the icebox, which just looks like a black hole. To have to grab a headlamp in the middle of the day to fish something out of the icebox just seemed ridiculous.

Just as the solution to cooling the icebox was extremely high tech the solution to lighting the box was wonderfully low tech; a bulls-eye deck prism.

Bright sun, cloudy, even fog, it really does not matter, the prism lets in a great deal of light especially right into the icebox when it has been opened. The only time the prism is not working is in the dead of night, and even then, if the lamps are lit below the glow from the prism on deck is really cool.

Best of all, there are no moving parts.

Eek

She was deposited in my lap on the Autumnal Equinox, and I did not want a kitten, but she was very determined that THIS WAS HER HOME.

I looked at her birth certificate—her birthday was the same as mine—I was stuck with her.

She never grew very large but that did not stop her she THOUGHT she was huge and intimidating and the truth is she was bigger than life.

She looked for mom and found our wolf, Saxon, instead. Saxon with the typical maternal instincts of wolves assumed Eek to be a weird cub and raised her as her own. Eek never got over her species identification issues.

The two were bonded until the day Saxon died.

Demanding, determined, and fearless, Eek did not like, and pretended not to understand the word no. She was always underfoot and determined to be part of any activity and at every party.

She had a great night last night and when she collapsed this morning and went for her last trip to the vet, she was more than twenty-two-years-old.

Such a little creature, and such a huge personality, she now lies next to Saxon.

I am glad they are back together, and I miss her. I miss them both.