The advertisement caught my eye, and instant interest: “Welcome to the New York State Canals.” Canals in New York ? I had long yearned to voyage the canals of Europe, but New York State was so much closer to my home in Bermuda. I sent off for the package of information and cruising guides and pulled out my atlas. Well, it wasn’t Europe, but there on the network of sheltered US inland waterways was Rome, Greece, Amsterdam, Athens and Berlin, Verona and Warsaw. I sold my business, rented out my condo and started making plans to ship Dart to New Jersey. My 1979 Flicka needed a few modifications. I installed an 11gallon fuel tank in the cockpit locker with a coaming fill/vent. This was a big improvement on the original 6-gallon tank which required a refill during a long day of motoring. The mast, sails, and rigging were removed and stored. A friend provided a short mast made from an old boom. I painted this red for fun. It proved useful for flying burgees, courtesy flags and was a hitch for the wind scoop. The height was sufficient to enable me to pass below all bridges on the waterways (except on one memorable occasion.) I treated her to a new 9.9 four stroke Yamaha outboard. It came with electric start and cockpit controls which were easy to use, a big improvement from leaning over the stern to change gear. A Raytheon Autohelm (“wraith”) was my copilot and not only steered Dart better than I, but provided me with time-out in short spells.
I installed a "back" for the settee, a big improvement. Note Tucker's bed under the v-berth. Photo: Gill Outerbridge © 2005
DART already had a Force 10 propane stove which, with a flowerpot upended on a burner, doubled as a cabin heater (per Bruce Bingham!). The previous owner had already installed a generous locker over the v-berth. A boating companion fitted her out with custom galley storage behind the stove. Two gelcell batteries provided plenty of power and I found I could leave them for nearly a year and still start the engine. The interior was already a comfort zone as you can see from the pictures. Tucker, my Jack Russell terrier, already considered DART her second home and loved sailing around Bermuda's sheltered harbors. Finding a suitable trailer was a challenge. The tri-axle that I was loaned was not configured for a sailboat but my inventive son-in-law bolted on planks topped with adjustable yardstands and Dart was soon securely poised for the freighter voyage across to New York.
Interior showing the galley and custom stowage. The tiled stove top lifts off and sets on the folding table to left and is useful for hot pans etc.. Photo: Gill Outerbridge © 2005 Exploring The Canals of Canada
Sailing wasn’t going to be a part of this voyage. The bridges over the canals required a different tack. DART is shown sailing on my home water of St. George’s Harbour in Bermuda. Photo: Gill Outerbridge © 2005
All the comforts of home for my trip through the canals of Canada. Note the custom cabinet over the v-berth. Photo: Gill Outerbridge © 2005 Our First Overnight Crossing By Brian and Ruth Eklund August, 2005 s/v KARA DU Each year my wife, Ruth, and I decided we'd try to add a new adventure to our Flicka sailing repertoire. This year, it was our first night sail in little KARA DU. Many of you have already done it, but it was a big deal for us. So, after spending a couple of nights at the Isthmus in Catalina, we headed off at noon for San Diego (actually Chula Vista Marina), a 98 mile trip that put us about as far South as you can go and still stay in the States. It was a beautiful day for sailing with an odd Easterly wind that forced us to go to weather but at a nice 5 knot clip. Still under full sail we watched the sun set over the West, put on our Sospenders vests, clipped on strobe lights, and prepared ourselves mentally for the nine hours of darkness that were about to encompass us as we sailed along some twenty miles from shore. "I better heat up some soup before it gets too dark to see", I told Ruth as she took the helm.
Enjoying fine sailing aboard KARA DU. Photo: Brian & Ruth Eklund © 2005
Just a few minutes later my head shot up from below as she shouted, "a whale spout, right over there, at 2 o'clock." Of course I missed it, and since I couldn't let the soup slide around on the stove, back below I went. But within moments I was greeted by a much louder shout, no, a scream. Ruth was standing now, staring over the starboard side with a terrified look on her face. This time I caught a glimpse of the whale that had startled her, just as it sounded, some 20 feet off our starboard side. It was heading East with us, but was much too close considering, as we later determined, that it was the largest of all mammals, growing to between 90 and 100 feet - a blue whale.
Ruth & Brian Eklund about s/y KARA DU. Photo: Brian & Ruth Eklund © 2005 Aboard s/y KARA DU I barely had time to re-adjust the soup on the stove when Ruth screamed again, "its crossing our bow." This time I had to grab the tiller - I pushed it hard to port - although the whale was diving it was just too close for comfort. "What's going on" we asked each other, "How many are there?" "Do they think we're a whale?" Go ahead, picture the full keel of a Flicka under the water! We did. It wasn't that we were fearful of an attack, but we could imagine the damage a playful swipe of the tail could inflict on little KARA DU.
The sun sets behind Brian as we begin out first overnight passage aboard Flicka s/y KARA DU. Photo: Brian & Ruth Lund © 2005
I envisioned us flopping around at the mercy of waves and current with a disabled rudder. Then worse, I saw us floating along in our little life preservers, twenty miles off the coast, as the last rays of light fell into the Pacific. But not much time for those worries. The whale surfaced again, this time passing our port side, headed West. It was so close we could see its colors gleaming in the fading light and even spotted a splashguard around the blowhole that helped identify it as a blue. “I'm going to start the motor so it knows we're not a whale”, I told Ruth. I doubt she heard me as she was already busy banging pots and pans together to add to our cacophony. As the motor began to chug we didn't even dare to glance back over the stern as we heard a last, loud "whoooosh" as she blew, and headed off towards Catalina. And so began our first night sail in little KARA DU, circled by a whale, or whales.
Sailing into San Diego Bay after our first overnight passage aboard our Flicka s/y KARA DU. Photo: Brian and Ruth Eklund © 2005
No, we didn't take pictures, though a cardiogram might have been helpful, and we certainly didn't have any trouble keeping awake for our watch. Sailing BEN MAIN, Jr. By Tom Davison While summer was coming to an end here in northern lower Michigan, there was still a little time left to sail s/y BEN MAIN, Jr. Tom Grimes planned to pull his Flicka in early October. His Flicka would be in the barn about one week before the peak fall colors. Some of the trees were already showing changes. Plans were made for an end of the season trip to Power Island. It isn’t very far away, roughly twelve miles or so. Power Island a small 200 acre island county park located along the west side of the Mission Peninsula in Grand Traverse Bay. This long, narrow peninsula separates East and West Bay. Over the years there were a variety of names. The current name is from the family that owned the island and made a gift to the public when they donated it to Grand Traverse County for a county park. There is a dock on the east side of the island, but current lake levels have left it nearly high and dry. Since we would need to row ashore, there was another Bruce P. Bingham design being towed behind the Flicka. It was a Trinka dinghy named LITTLE BEN with matching gray gelcoat, boot stripe and bottom paint. The weather postponed the trip one day. A front brought out hazardous weather warnings with specific statements for boaters. The Monday trip started on Tuesday. Suttons Bay Marina is very protected from south and west winds. As we cleared the shelter of the trees, the wind began to pick up. After setting the main, we found that the speed was four knots. Since the wind was astern, we didn’t unfurl the genoa. We made good time down the bay and after awhile, began looking for the
With the green can behind us, it was time to turn south into the West arm of Grand Traverse Bay. Photo: Tom Davison © 2005