Put the issue of mousing to a bunch of dockside mariners round a pub table and as like as not Captain Blimp will insist that all hooks are to be moused on pain of the ship coming to a sticky end. He has a point of course, but what I’ve  discovered at sea is rather different. Received wisdom’s all right when hands-on experience is in short supply, but when you’ve had the chance to try a few alternatives, you find that things sometimes refuse to obey the rules. 

I’ve owned four gaff cutters and three of them have had halyard blocks fitted with hooks. The first was a 32-footer back in the 1970s. I moused all the hooks as I’d been told, and set off for South America. The trip was going so well as I rounded Ushant that I unwisely decided to leave my topsail up as the sun went down. The boat had a big rig and the topsail spread a significant area of canvas, extending the pole mast with a long luff yard. That night, as it happened, the sail was set on the windward side of the peak halyards with their newly moused blocks. It came on to blow a bit in the small hours and it was soon clear that topsails and darkness aren’t comfortable bedfellows. There was no moon and I’d no deck lights but it had to be dropped. It would need to be done by feel. 

If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have hove to on the other tack by simply shoving the tiller to leeward and leaving the headsail sheets where they were. Once way was off, the helm would be lashed to leeward on the new tack, the boat would have nodded easily into the sea with no hand on the tiller and the topsail would have been flying clear to leeward. I could let go the sheet and ease away on the halyard at my leisure while my mate controlled the downhaul to keep the yard more or less vertical as it came down. Even with no light, there wouldn’t be a lot to go wrong.

That’s not how it was. Instead of following this seamanlike procedure, I left my mate on the helm and struggled up the bounding deck alone. I let the sheet off, then tentatively eased the halyard. I knew what should be happening aloft, but all I could see up there was stars. Working the halyard with one hand while trying to maintain tension on the downhaul with the other, I’d won about four feet when the downhaul went tight. I gave the halyard a hefty tug to try and clear whatever was hanging things up, but the sail was stuck. Rather like the Grand old Duke of York’s ten thousand men halfway up the hill, it was neither up nor down. I don’t know how the Duke’s soldiers found this situation, but judging from the sounds and general flogging coming from aloft, my topsail was not having a good time. Action was called for, and it needed to be prompt.

For few seconds I considered climbing aloft to discover what was going on, but with the boat leaping along and the sounds of mayhem over my head, I gave up that idea in short order. Instead, I did what I should have done at the outset. I hove to, releasing my mate from the tyranny of the tiller. With two of us on the case and the boat stable, we carefully lowered the main and the topsail together. They came down readily enough, but the topsail seemed unwilling to let go of one of the peak blocks. I took a closer look, now with a torch in my hand. The topsail had got itself well and truly snarled up in the hook mousing which I had not frapped neatly enough. The wire had punched through the Dacron and caught it as securely as any fishhook going about its honest business.

We sat the night out as we were, then cleared up the mess at dawn. I thought about the mousings on the peak blocks, accepted that my wire-work might not always be perfect, and took them off. After all, the hooks would be permanently under load, so why would they let go? They didn’t. From that day I have never moused a hook that will stay loaded and after many ocean crossings I can look the man at the pub table in the eye and tell him there might be another point of view. 

This chain of thought was precipitated by events on my boat last week. In the tidy little Danish port of Lundeborg, I suffered an unwanted boarder by the name of Minnie Mouse. She announced her arrival on the following day’s passage to Svendborg by making a meal of a new loaf of bread. She had to go, and go quickly. Surprisingly, I thought, the Svendborg chandler didn’t sell mousetraps. ‘No call for them these days,’ she said glumly, but I unearthed a pack of three for £1.50 after a route march to an out-of-town megastore. I suppose you get what you pay for because they failed to spring two nights running, but the situation was dealt with on the third in an unexpected way. I had been softening some ancient leather in water to make up a chafing piece and the unfortunate mouse defeated all odds by somehow contriving to fall into the bucket. There, it tragically expired. We found it in the morning and committed its remains to the deep. My experience with mousetraps is limited, so perhaps I need the pub team to tell me how to get value from them but, as so often happens at sea, Providence stepped in to protect the innocent.  

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Modern Ropes

It was soon after the Second World War that ropes made from synthetic materials such as polyester and nylon, and then later polypropylene, first became available. They had massive advantages over their natural fibre predecessors which were prone to rot (although that could be lessened with tarring or waxing) and not very strong, not least because they were constructed by necessity from countless, relatively short pieces twisted together, known as “spun yarn”. Not only were synthetic materials more durable and inherently-stronger, they could also be produced with continuous filaments to provide even greater strength. In the 1960s several rope manufacturers began to produce a 3-strand polypropylene – probably known to most people as the floating blue rope – in a beige colour to suit classic boats, and since then an increasing range of synthetic ropes has come onto the market to satisfy owners who are unwilling to adorn their boats with a variety of coloured ropes, despite their advantage of allowing easy identification. 

Polypropylene

A number of beige-coloured polypropylene ropes are still produced today including Marlow’s Hardy Hemp, Liros’s Synthemp (also known as Historic), Master Ropemakers’ Synthetic Hemp (also available in a dark brown colour to resemble traditional tarred rope), Cousin’s Hemp Like, Hempex which is produced by both Kingfisher and Gleistein, English Braids’ Hemtex 3, and FSE Robline’s Spunflex and Classic-Tex, and Langman Ropes’ Polytex and others.

Polyester

It was in the 1980s that rope specialists Jimmy Green Marine commissioned Bridport Gundry to produce a hemp-coloured three-strand polyester – stronger and less stretchy than polypropylene and with better UV properties – and when Bridport Gundry ceased trading, Liros began to make a similar product, Classic 3-Strand. Although three-strand ropes are generally less popular these days, not least because they are tough on the hands and harder to coil than braided alternatives, beige-coloured three-strand polyester ropes are also still available from Kingfisher, Marlow, Langman Ropes and English Braids, and the latter two companies also produce a pre-stretched version.

Braid-on-Braid

In the early days of braid-on-braid ropes they typically had continuous filament inner cores (providing most of the strength) and a spun yarn cover. They are now also available with continuous filament (or high tenacity) covers, although this results in a shiny finish which many classic boat owners may reject in favour of the spun yarn matt, furry finish that more closely resembles traditional hemp. Braid-on-braid products with continuous filament (or high tenacity) covers include Liros’s Herkules and Top Cruising, Kingfisher’s Braid On Braid Polyester Classic, Gleistein’s Tasmania Hemp-Coloured, English Braid’s Braid-on-Braid; and Langman Ropes’ Hamilton Classic; while Kingfisher’s Matt Polyester, English Braid’s  S-Range and Liros’s Seastar have spun covers; and FSE Robline’s Double Braid Classic’s cover is blend of continuous filament and spun yarn. To give an indication of the relative strengths of the two types of cover, in some diameters the breaking load of English Braid’s Braid-on-Braid is about double that of the S-Range.

Braided covers with various cores

Typically, these products are designed with a core to provide better strength/stretch characteristics than braid-on-braids while retaining a braided cover to protect the core and to give an overall diameter which allows handleability. They can be made from a variety of individual materials, or blends of materials, to suit the application according to how much abrasion, UV or heat they might experience. The most common cover material is good old polyester, not least because it is relatively inexpensive but also because it has good resistance to abrasion and UV. There are now more than fifty different hemp-coloured rope products on the market, all of which – in fact many more – are also available in white which may also be acceptable to some classic boat owners. Amongst the oldest-established of these, and still available today, are Marlowbraid (with a 3-strand polyester core), and Gleistein Cup (with a parallel continuous filament polyester core to minimise constructional stretch, but notoriously difficult to splice), while English Braids’ Ebraid 3 also has a 3-strand polyester core. 

The most common of the high-tech materials used for cores is Ultra-High Molecular Weight Polyethylene, or HMPE (the best known of which is Dyneema which is supplied by Dutch company DSM) and Vectran. Both have minimal stretch properties and that is where “creep” – non-reversible elongation at high load over time –  becomes an issue: Dyneemas have minimal creep but Vectran has none. 

Amongst the Dyneema cored products with beige coloured covers are English Braids’ Racing Dyneema, Marlow’s D2 Racing 78 and MGP Tech 50 (the latter has a Technora cover for improved abrasion resistance), Cousin’s Dynasty Pro SK78 (also known as Dynasty 613) and Kingfisher’s Racing Dyneema 78. FSE Robline’s Globe Pro has a Robtec core, which is an alternative HMPE to Dyneema.

With regard to rope construction, cores are traditionally described as being made up of strands, and covers of plaits. Almost all Dyneema cores are 12-strand, although some smaller diameters are 8-strand. Covers can be made up of 16, 24, 32 or even 48-plait. Some ropes have an intermediate layer – sometimes called a traction jacket – between the core and the cover. Sometimes this is incorporated into a rope with a small Dyneema core where strength is not too crucial, to fill the space and make up the outside diameter, and it can also work better in clutches because there can be  more cohesion between the three layers. Amongst these products are Liros’s Classic Dynamic Plus (which the company supplies exclusively to Jimmy Green Marine), and Gleistein’s MegaTwin Dyneema. Gleistein also have another product with an intermediate layer, Relite Hemp, which has a recycled polyester cover. 

With such high tech materials it is all too easy to find a rope with strength and stretch characteristics which are more than adequate for the role intended. In fact problems often begin when existing ropes are upgraded to higher tech ropes which are too strong and not stretchy enough, and which then put unfair loads on boats and their deck and rig fittings which were not designed to take them. This, of course, can be particularly the case with traditionally built classic boats, with which there is a far greater risk that an existing rig or deck fitting will break or, worse, a boat will suffer structural damage, than a rope breaking, and so extreme caution should be exercised when selecting high tech ropes. This applies to braid-on-braid ropes as well as higher tech ropes such as Dyneema, because even they may have significantly higher strength and lower stretch than the ropes originally used. In the case of modern, spirit-of-tradition boats, it may be far less of a risk as consideration may well have been given to modern ropes at the design and build stages. Spirit yachts, for instance, routinely use Dyneema ropes for halyards and other applications. 

Mooring lines

Among the traditionally coloured ropes suitable for mooring lines are Cousin’s Beige Futuna which is made from recycled polyester, and Liros’s Porto which is available exclusively from Jimmy Green Marine. 

Natural products

A number of companies still produce natural products. Three-strand hemp, for instance, is available from Liros, Kingfisher and Langman Ropes, although Master Ropemakers’ Chatham Hemp which is actually a flax which has similar properties to hemp, is more readily available and complies with naval regulations (hemp comes from the same plant as marijuana!). While the strength properties of natural ropes are inferior to equivalent synthetic ropes, surprisingly that is not necessarily the case with regard to stretch. Master Ropemakers also produce Manila, Coir and Sisal. Sisal, cotton and manila ropes are also produced by Langman. 

Specific uses

Generally speaking, stretch is least desirable in halyards. Occasionally two different products might be used for halyards – one on the working part to ensure it has the desired strength and stretch characteristics, and another on the tail so that it is easy to handle, economical, or just so it looks traditional when coiled and stowed. Traditionally, halyards were often made up of stainless or galvanised steel wire for the working part spliced to three strand rope for the tail, and although modern ropes have reduced the demand for this, Jimmy Green Marine still produce about fifty such halyards a year. Other combinations might include a Dyneema-cored working part with a braid-on-braid tail, or a braid-on-braid working part and a three-strand tail. 

Stretch is much less of an issue with sheets and may be actually be desirable on a classic boat with high-tech, low-stretch sails where the combined loads would otherwise simply be too much. However, Dyneema spinnaker guys will be more effective in keeping the pole off the forestay when reaching, and in this instance it might also be beneficial to remove the cover on the forward part which you won’t have to handle. Uncovered Dyneema or Vectran in its own right is also becoming increasingly popular for the main part of running backstays as it is much safer than wire rope, and less likely to damage spars and sails. It is not widely available in a buff colour – although Marlow’s V12, a 12-strand Vectran, is available in a natural straw like colour – but for many classic boat owners, white or black might be acceptable in this application.  

Owners of spirit-of-tradition boats may not be particularly worried about the colour of ropes  but a beige hemp-like colour is likely to be first choice for most classic boat owners. But eschewing the advantages of the myriad of the available coloured ropes could lead to identification problems. This can be helped to some extent with distinctive but discreet whippings on the ends of ropes, but in many cases – on a professionally-crewed boat or one that is only ever sailed by the same small crew –  the problem will be solved simply by growing familiarity.

Characteristics of various Marlow ropes

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There was a time when, possibly as a legacy of dinghy sailing and some youthful offshore racing, I would strap Sally’s long, heavy wooden boom down and attempt to get it as close to parallel with her waterline as I could, without ripping the toerail from its fastenings. It was a legacy of “Vang on!”, a call we used to hear all too often on those interminable triangles to nowhere which comprised RORC racing in the 1980s. On a flighty racing boat the vang is used, among other things, to control twist and keep the forces acting on the fin keel in balance.

Long-keeled Sally, or Sally II, is an altogether different creature, the second
of what later became the Vertue class, Jack Laurent Giles’s best known design. She is 25ft and a bit long, 78 years old, and last summer managed to clock 8.7 knots on the chartplotter she had for a 75th birthday present three years before.

Let no one tell you that old long-keeled yachts are slow, or don’t point worth a damn. Sally knows her limits, for sure; try and push her upwind closer than she wants, or her sails permit, and she sulks. Sally’s  sails – Simon Richardson on the Hamble knew his stuff after cutting his teeth, and sails, on 12-Ms in Newport Rhode Island in the old America’s Cup days – are cut to suit her hull’s ability upwind. That is, not too flat. Crucially, they’re powerful enough to drive her hull (just shy of 5 tons) at the angle it prefers to assume to the wind.

Simon once told me that it is largely the hull that defines how close to the wind a boat can sail, so there’s no point in cutting sails that do not match that angle. Get Sally in the groove – an easy matter, as she’s better at steering herself than the helmsman; just peg her tiller and put the kettle on – and she will set her perky nose to the horizon and go. But try and make her do what she was not designed to do, viz knife-edge to windward at 30 degrees off, and forget it.

Like most old boats of her era, she has this longish, heavy boom, prevented from taking out the backstay (or preventer as Giles called it) in a Chinese gybe by the addition of a boomkin, a jaunty little appendage that can be forgotten when paying harbour dues, but which adds character (and carries the backstay well out of reach of any sky-ing boom).

Thank goodness then for a boomkin, for Sally does not have a kicking strap. But I soon realised that for a quite separate reason its lack was a positive advantage, although occasionally I would bowse the boom down on a broad reach to the rail with a handy billy, if it wasn’t too windy.

And that is the key. The heavy boom alone is enough to keep the mainsail drawing, but if the breeze pipes up the absence of a kicker allows the boom to rise and fall naturally, spilling wind from the top of the sail, while still allowing it to fill the lower portion. It serves as a natural depowering process, while reducing the strain on the rig.

And that is exactly the scenario that we faced as we charged past Rhubh Reidh lighthouse on a broad reach, after a weekend jaunt to Gairloch last September. Vicious bursts of heavy air fell from the clifftop. With far too much sail up (that is, a full main and staysail), and little inclination to reef, we simply let the natural rise and fall of the boom regulate our sail area. The top of the sail was aligned almost dead into the wind, pressed flat against the top spreaders, but the lower half meanwhile was pulling like a train.

Truth be told, when we did get around to rolling up a good portion of the mainsail, the speed remained in the high 7s, and occasionally low 8s, apart from that tremendous burst which had the GPS peaking at 8.7 knots, unheard of in all the time I have owned Sally.

When I ran all this past a vastly experienced old friend, John Simpson, former skipper of Jolie Brise, he told me that his old Dutch boat Blauwe behaved in exactly the same way with her mainsail. However he pointed out that sails on older boats don’t want to be sheeted in too flat, particularly in light to moderate winds. “If they are cut full; let em’ work full to develop the power necessary to drive older heavier boats.”

Being a cautious kind of sailor, he was glad that we reefed and just let the mainsail spill for only a shortish amount of time. A mainsail flat against the spreaders might have caused chafe on a long passage.

If the gust that drove us to that heady speed had encountered a full mainsail, kickered down to the rail, I suspect something would have given. Instead, the boom rose, the sail flattened against the spreaders, the gust spilled and the power in the lower half was quite enough to have Sally break a record that will probably stand until we next storm down to Gairloch. As my friend Craig Nutter once told me (he owns the Harrison Butler, Sabrina, a Round the Island Race winner): “Adrian, you must let twist be your friend.”

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The post How to sail without a vang: let twist be your friend appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Mast bitts play a critical role for making off halyards and other lines. For strength, they should be attached to the deck beam at the after-end of the partners – the heavy deck timbers that support the mast.

This deck beam and its mate at the forward end of the mast partners are of greater scantling than the other beams, because they provide one of the three points of support for the mast (the mast step and rigging being the other two).

Any of the halyards coming down from aloft and made off at the mast pin rail will try to pull the bitts upwards. If they are simply bolted through the beam, they will move a little to begin with, a little more in years to come, and will be liable to leak. The question is, how does one chop the minimum amount out of the deck beam, and create a joint with more resistance than a bolt?

First, cut a tapering rebate in the beam alongside the mast partners. Leave the beam full at the top, but go in by a third of its thickness at the bottom. To create the joint, make repeated saw cuts in the beam, knock out the timber between the cuts with a chisel and clean up with a rebate plane.

Next, mark up one of the bitts, taking care to configure it correctly. When you draw the cut-out for the pin rail, make sure there is sufficient clearance under it, and that there is enough timber above the rail to make off a rope. Transfer the marks to the other mast bitt, and machine them both.

Fitting the bitts
Fit the mast bitts by cutting a corresponding joint where they will mate with the beam. Bear in mind that the deck beam is square to the bend of the camber, whereas the mast bitt will have to be upright. To get round this, clamp the bitt into position, then pass a saw kerf between the top face of the deck beam and the mast bitt so that it fits down snug with the deck. Drill and bolt through the beam.

The bolt is now acting in tension, holding the joint together. If the mast bitts were to move upwards under the force of the halyards, the joint would become wider across the fore and aft orientation. The bolt will not allow this, so the upward force of the halyard is transferred to the whole face of the joint and beam, rather than merely relying on the diameter of the bolt alone. The minimum has been cut from this important deck beam, yet a very strong joint has been created.

The post Making mast bitts appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Lacing advice for those of you who own gaff- or gunter-rigged boats.

When setting the mast lacing it is crucial to establish whether you have a straight luff or a throat and/or tack knock. Either way, it is of utmost importance that the luff lacing does not pull the sail closer to the mast than it was designed to be.

Despite all I said in my previous columns about continuous spiral lacing being the ONLY way to lace, this is a rare case when there is an alternative (shown in the following diagram)  essentially taking the rope round the mast and back thorough the same eyelet. I have found it to be a more stable form of lacing which helps to hold the luff better.

As with lacing to the boom or gaff, sails should not be laced too tight to the mast Ð particularly important when raising or lowering the sail.

Sails are designed so that the load and tension is taken down the luff rope, not via the mast lacing, which is simply there to hold the sail to the mast. The lacing should not be loose, just relaxed.

The post Lacing a gaff-rigged sail to your mast appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Fitting a protective covering or ‘chafing gear’ to the mooring lines where they run through a fairlead is fairly standard practice, particularly over winter when the boat is often unattended.

Traditionally the ropes were wrapped in canvas, then seized in place and lubricated with tallow.

Today, a short length of plastic pipe is more usual. However, this can cause problems on a berth that suffers from a lot of surge. Under these circumstances, the constant sawing action and snatching of lines can quickly slide the pipe along the rope until it comes out of the fairlead.

On small boats where the lines are quite short, the answer can be to encase the entire rope in plastic. On larger boats, the lengths of pipe may have a few holes at each end, through which light line is threaded and then lashed to, or sewn through, the mooring rope; but it can sometimes break, allowing the chafing gear to move.

In Marina Bay in Gibraltar recently, we spotted a neat solution. The plastic pipe, which was fairly snug on the rope, was held in place by a couple of figure-of-eight knots. OK, much harder maybe to untie when time comes to renew the plastic, and at the expense of some strength in the mooring line, but well worth considering.

The post How to Prevent Chaffing of Mooring Lines appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

The irritation of the awkward, notquite-round spar fitting that has to nestle on a shoulder and fit the timber like a tubi-grip knee support can be overcome with a little chalk powder. One may have to embark upon some exasperated hammering of the fitting so it is best to fit the metal work before galvanizing it.

1 Make the shoulder by gradually working the taper aft

2 Coat the inside of the metal with chalk powder

3 Replace the fitting and drive it back into position.

4 The chalk residue left behind indicates the high spots. Ease these until the fitting can be pushed into position by a firm hand.

The post Fine Fitting appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

There are some traditional sailors who are sceptical about slab reefing but it is an undeniably easier way to reduce sail. The only possible downside when converting your boom to slab reefs is the leech reef line as this needs to go along the boom to the gooseneck for terminating, which can be awkward.

On modern aluminium booms the reef lines are inside but on the older wooden or early aluminium boom there is no provision for this. A simple way to overcome this is to fit some simple rope guides or bull’s eyes for lines to pass through along the boom. This will stop the rope drooping down when not in use and garrotting you!

The trick is to know exactly which fittings you need, and how and where to position them. Don’t go by the price of the fittings – the most expensive are not necessarily the best for you or your boat. And don’t buy a conversion set just because your friend recommends one – you may need something different. So if you are thinking of converting your boom, consult your sailmaker
for advice.

The post Slab reefing appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

When I bought Edith, the Polperro hooker I owned between 1988 and 1996, she had a small external iron keel of about 300 or 350kg (660- 770lb) and a large amount of internal ballast, consisting of bits of iron and heavy rocks.

As part of her rebuild, the external keel was replaced with one that weighed about 1 ton and the rocks were replaced with ingots made from scrap lead.

To make the ingots, the lead was put in an old cast-iron water boiler, then heated with a large gas blowlamp. As it melted, scum and bits were skimmed off the top, before it was ladled out into moulds and allowed to cool.

The moulds were made from angle iron with steel plates welded across each end, so that on a level surface the angle iron was held vertex downwards. Although simple, this design, suggested to me by local boatbuilder Brian Crockford, is very suitable for casting ballast.

Ingots thus produced are triangular in cross section, making them easy to remove from the mould. It also means they stack easily to form a compact mass. For a specific boat, the moulds can be made to a length that allows the ingots to fit neatly between the frames.

In practice, these moulds worked very well, although as I only had a couple made, they quickly became extremely hot and it consequently took a long time for the lead to solidify.

If I were doing the same job again I would have at least six moulds and I would consider using a larger-sectioned angle iron.

On this occasion I used 2in (50mm) which produced quite a small ingot; in many cases 3in (75mm) or more might be suitable. The larger-angle iron would produce a heavier ingot; this would mean fewer ingots for the same weight and a much faster casting process.

Be very careful. I wore welder’s gauntlets and a protective face shield. It is also

The post Lead Ballast appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.

Traditional cruising boats without roller-furling jibs often have double forestays. These are usually fitted with a trade-wind passage in mind, and allow twin headsails to be set when the boat is running before the wind. With a sail boomed out on each side, the rig is balanced and the boat virtually steers itself.

On other points of sail when only one jib can be set, the double stays can cause problems. The unused stay slackens, causing chafing where it rubs on the jib, and a hank can become clipped to both stays, making it hard to lower sail – a potential danger.

When Duncan Shaw and Elaine Clegg fitted out their boat, Haforn, for an Atlantic crossing, a rigger in Mallorca suggested a system that kept the tension even in both stays, vastly reducing the chance of problems.

The crux of this method is two small stainless steel isosceles triangles, with a hole in each corner. Using clevis pins, the vortex of one triangle is fastened to the mast tang and the other to the stemhead. The twin stays then run between these triangles. The movement of the triangles distribute the strain between the two stays, ensuring that the unused one remains taut.

The post Triangle Tensions appeared first on Classic Boat Magazine.