Eygthene, Revisited.

A crash course in IOR rules from the early 70's through whenever. Shucks, maybe through whenever Duran Duran became popular?

I want you to absorb this concept: masthead sloop. It's old, it's outdated evidently, but it's cheap.

I guess.

And, there seems to be a revival in the oldies but goodies.

So here is the deal. I've been sailing around with Joan and Howard on their veritable San Juan 28, which is a masthead rigged sloop. What that means is that all the foreward sails, such as the jib, the genoa, and the dreaded spinnaker, go all the way to the top of the mast. A fractional rig, such as the much more in style and ever more expensive J24 (meaning, I can't afford one) employs the more modern technique of controlling the boat more from a bigger main, and the foreward sails do not go all the way to the top of the mast.

Basic problems with masthead rig: you have to have a lot of sails for your different wind situations. And yes, they call it a wardrobe of sails. Basic problem number two: Those big sails hold a lot of air when they are out there. It is not implausible for a woman weighing 130 pounds to find herself at one end of a spinnaker sheet about to take a hot air balloon ride.

Well, this only happens when things are not sorted out and going right. But, let us imagine the good things about this Generation X rigging technique:

Perhaps if the wind is light, you have a lot more sail out there, maybe you still sail.

According to Guy: It was not uncommon to be peeling sails often during a race. The forestay would have two slots in it, so you could run up a small jib and peel down the genoa, for example.

Also according to Guy, "the guys" used to grab a hold of the big gigantic genoa clew, and throw themselves and the sail over to the other side of the boat to tack. You see that sail being so big really does get caught up on whatever, shrouds, the spinnaker pole, the lifelines, it can be a real mess.

So maybe this is like big earrings and platform shoes. The excesses of the 70s and 80s. I really don't know.

But this is how it is on the masthead sloop that is based on all these things I race on: You are dealing with all this headsail, the spinnaker is unsafe at any speed, and if I were on a J24 it wouldn't be much of an issue.

So: we have to pause and ask ourselves this question:
Why do I want to go to the innards of America to trailer home a classic example of a quarter tonner IOR masthead sloop?

Insert Picture Here:

Okay, this is something called an Eygthene, designed in the early seventies by one of the folks who really defined this sort of thing, Ron Holland. The deal is, if you happen to be Australian and you say the word "eighteen", it sounds like the above heiroglyph. In the land of plenty for some, the boat got re-christened the "Kiwi 24." The boat is 18 feet on the waterline, and 24 feet overall. So you can see how this little thing might have happened.

The other item of note is that this blue Kiwi is called Valkyrie. A very grand name, I think? It might be a little bit of overkill, ha ha ha no pun intended.

Mike, if for some reason you stumble upon my insane blog and see yourself sailing your Kiwi 24 that I am about to have a little internet think on, I hope you are okay with making a cameo appearance with Lizzie and Flying Circus.

Now- we have to mention that this Kiwi 24 has a little coach roof of sorts, to accomodate tall people who want headroom and ostensibly a head as well. The original boat, which Mr. Holland designed and with which he won the Quarter Ton Cup in 1973 (photo by Stephan Lautram, if you stop by my site Mr. Holland, I'm hoping you can see I have about two people who regularly read my blog and you don't mind my admiration of your lovely original boat to the point that I want my two readers to see how it is very much more beautiful than the production models that followed)



And there we have it, the flush deck, such as you might encounter on a J24, suitable for racing. And of course a few 70's guys on board, exhibiting decidedly more yachting style than men you might encounter on today's high or low seas. Please, God, can men learn from this example. I really hope my readers can somehow supersize the photo so that you can see the disco shirt the fellow on the rail is wearing. If you must see it in full glory, please go toThis page of the Eygthene 24 dedicated site.

The truth is, I want to go hundreds of miles from home in an old pickup truck and trailer home (on what trailer?) a boat that is a blast from the past because it is just that: it is odd, unique, and it strikes my fancy. No one else wants it here in America, and yet on the other side of the pond, there has been a recent revival in the old IOR boats, and there are now quarter ton class races. This is a case of recognizing something that other people are shrugging their shoulders over.

Perhaps. OR it might be a moment of insanity.

Woodwind Takes to the Wind at Megunticook

Our second family voyage in our GP 14, Woodwind. As we were coming back to the launching ramp (with about 5 or 6 other 4th of July boating expeditions, it was a bit zoo-y) a woman in a motor boat snapped a picture of us, and here it is!

It all went off without a big hitch, except when we got to the launching ramp, we discovered that we had lost a shackle that holds one shroud in place. Maybe even the turnbuckle, too, thinking about it now. So Guy rigged up a rope assemblage, which worked great, so off we went.

But, unbeknownst to those who amble through the wind and waves with carefree abandon, the rope assemblage was being gradually sawed away by the sharp edges of the ring that should have been holding the missing shackle and pin. With a big snap, our rope jury rig snapped when we were halfway through the beat back.

Guy, being a good Boy Scout, had remembered to bring a Ricotta Cheese bucket full of odds and ends, so, finding another shackle with a smooth surface, he tied up another turnbuckle arrangement with a bit of spectra while I held Woodwind into the wind, and then we were off again.

I think it may have been one of our more successful family yachting occasions. I still get nervous steering dinghies, but not as nervous as I used to. If it were just me, I wouldn't mind so much, because if I capsize on my own, I don't really care. Obviously, a much bigger pain in the butt in Woodwind, since she is big and heavy, and I would have a job getting her flipped back up again, much more so than an Opti or a 420. I think it is just the fact that I worry about it a little with our 10 year old son Rory on board. But, the second time I steered, it was very fun. I love being the jib person, though, so I can sit up on the rail when we are beating and hike over. Dinghy sailing goes so quickly...especially on the lake, where the wind is so varied, pouring down from the mountains, warming and cooling, swirling around, creating so many little shifts. Very different from sailing on the Bay or in the Ocean, where the wind is much slower to change her attitude.

J24 Racing in Camden

Awesome evening...wind strong at first, plenty of waves. I love it when it is like that, sitting over the rail, waves splashing over me. Of course, it helped that it was really hot and muggy, and very rarely here in Maine do we really feel like being splashed with sea water...but tonight it felt so good.
I was on Patti Dinse's boat, Havoc, with her two children, Michael and Amber, and crew member Gretchen.
Oh, I forgot to say- Patti's children are grown-ups.
My arms are actually a little sore from hauling around at the guy.
We had two last places, one due to a wardrobe malfunction. Meaning, spinnaker issues. It came out twisted. We'd been practicing a set before racing, and got hit with a puff and a wave. It was almost a broach; the guy got blown and the pole swung, we yelled "Duck Amber" and she dropped to the foredeck. But, the last race, we redeemed ourselves for a first place. Everyone dialed in and we got it together.
I love the calm after the storm aspect of sailing. Being out there in the wind and waves, all the exertion to get sails up and down, the mental work, and then the race is over often simultaneous to the wind dying down at evening, and so you sail back in to the harbor watching the sun set and breathing in the peace, bantering with your crewmates, or just watching the Camden Hills while you coil up spinnaker sheets or while you tidy something else...

Patti's husband, Jeff Dinse, is usually the main contender at these affairs. Guy sails on his boat. But, this year, Jeff has ripped tendons in his shoulder and must sit out the season with his arm in a sling! So Guy has assumed the organization of crew aboard Jeff's boat, Blue Zombie. She's a Blue Zombie because she rose from the dead. And she's blue. Jeff, meanwhile, has been out on the committee boat, and seems to be developing a keen analyst stance apres race. Really, I think it would make very interesting sports casting. He gives a good race analysis. If I had my stuff together, I could find a movie camera and go out on committee boat on the nights I am not sailing, do some filming, and get Jeff to do some commentary. We could have post race discussion. "Now to you, Jeff." (Camera pans to Jeff, arm in sling.) Some gripping, terse sports-lingo.
Lizzie: "Jeff, can you tell us what is going on out there?"
(a banner running at the bottom of the screen, saying something like, "Live from Camden Harbor, Simulcast on Channel 58, Knox County)
Jeff: "The only thing to do after setting the spinnaker for the downwind leg was jibe."
(quick shot of boats in action, some jibing, some not, circles and arrows appearing on screen.)

Anyway, it could be fun. I have no idea how to make a TV show, which could be a little bit of a problem.