|
|
A Beginners Sailor’s Collection Lessons Learned
The next dozen or so lessons learned
Learning to anchor – or better how not to anchor
If you are going to travel the ICW or sail anywhere in the world, anchoring knowledge is a big deal. And by the time I was ready to make my first trip I did know a lot about anchoring before heading for St Augustine. Let me explain. A few months earlier, I made an attempt to renew my boating bond with my crew promising a very tranquil afternoon on a remote St, Johns Island beach – no authoritative command shouting, no raising the sails, simply motoring through a local knowledge cut and anchoring just off the beach and a short dinghy ride to where we could have a picnic lunch and enjoy serenity and privacy. Pretty clever way of selling the sailing life and re-bonding with my crew, huh? What could go wrong? Thankfully an anchor and rode was a part of the sail-away package.
The day did start out pretty well – we found the “local knowledge cut” in the Charleston Harbor jetty just like the locals said and a couple miles later, I dropped the anchor, and Captain and crew went happily ashore. For a while it was bliss until suddenly my littlest daughter innocently asked “where is the boat daddy”. Well the boat was in sight but about a half mile from where it should be – obviously a case of anchor dragging. But what to do about the problem was a bit of a quandary.
As I ran down the beach I thought about the Annapolis Book of Seamanship laying next to the couch in my house and vowed, once the present crises was resolved, I would diligently re-read each of the book’s chapters and promised to never skim a chapter again. For example, had I properly secured the anchor rode to Paramour (I just do not remember reading that passage in the book) at the time I set the anchor, I likely would not be running down the beach to fetch my Paramour from the surf – another lesson to be added to the lessons learned book. But at that moment I had to get back to the crises at hand. By the time I reached Paramour and climbed aboard and started the engine she was pounding stern-on to the sand bottom with a thunderous shudder and a heart rendering bang ever few seconds.
To make a long story short, after much panic and swearing, an hour latter Paramour and I escaped the snares of the outgoing tide and beach pounding with a severely bent rudder, that would allow a only wide spiraling path back through the jetties, through the harbor, and ultimately into the marina. However, before managing such a complicated course to marina safety, I had to address one other little problem. Paramour and I were now about 500 yards off shore in 10 feet of water and my now ex- wife and children were stranded on a beach that had access only by water. There was no way that I could motor back to the shore and get them on board without getting caught in the off shore bound current whose breadth was less than the diameter of my spiral. This posed a real dilemma that the Annapolis Book of Seamanship did not seem to cover very well in any of its chapters.
Fortunately on the horizon was a small power boat, and I knew if I could “motor spiral” to the boat, the owner would certainly welcome the opportunity to rescue my family. Indeed I did get within a few feet of the potential rescue boat only to realize that the owner and his mate were engaged in an intense, amorous embrace in the boat’s cockpit and for some reason were quite resentful when an idiot in a sail boat pulled up next to them and began incessantly blowing his air horn to get their attention. Thankfully, reason prevailed, and the couple concluded that I was simply a stupid guy who should not own a boat and obviously not a weird perverted voyeur playing some sort of a practical joke on them. They quickly dressed, sped to shore, and rescued my family. And that was the very last time my now ex-wife ever stepped foot onto the S/V Paramour and that evening I re-read the chapters on anchoring over and over again.
A couple weeks later I left the repair yard a few thousand dollars lighter but with my Paramour no longer worse for wear – although I cannot help but believe she may have been a bit leery of the skills of her captain.
A Sailor’s Lessons Learned Play Book
My first dozen or so lessons learned
Learning to sail
It all started in March of 1978
Before I can share my first trip, I must explain how I became the gained the basic knowledge I think necessary to make a first trip of a couple thousand miles.
As a boy growing up in the cornfields of Indiana, visions of oceans and seas and rivers were ingrained in my mind by my grandfather – a Danish immigrant and a North Sea eel fisherman. Although I would have wait for college spring break in Ft Lauderdale to get my first glimpse of emerald and blue salt water, his stories of the sea and the transatlantic passage from Denmark on a wooden schooner gave me a leg up on all other wannabe sailors of the world. So in 1978 I found myself at the yacht brokerage dock in Charleston, South Carolina, writing a check for a brand new Hunter 30 – the FIRST and most primary of the many watery lessons I have learned – A FOOL AND HIS MONEY SOON PART.
Now mind you, I had never sailed before – no prior Sunfish experience, no prior Hobie Cat experience, no romantic, captained, chartered, sunset dinner cruise on a tranquil bay, not even one hour’s practice sailing a remote controlled boat on a little pond. But armed with my grandfather’s legacy, many evenings of arm chair sailing with the Hiscocks and Joshua Slocum, and the broker’s “personal assurance” that thirty footers are much, much easier and forgiving to sail than little sailboats like Hobie Cats and Snarks, I found it easy to part with the windfall bonus I had received from my company the day before.
After all the broker did promise that he would personally teach me how to sail my shiny, brand new, sailboat – the second watery lesson learned on the second day of my sailing career – never buy a boat, or anything else for that matter, from a guy who lives aboard his own boat, does not own a home on land, and constantly talks about the virtues of retiring to the tropics once he gets a little extra money in his checking account. Needless to say, once my check cleared the bank, early one morning I watched the very sincere and helpful broker as he sailed out between the jetties of the Charleston Harbor, never to be seen again (at least by me). I hope he is enjoying every moment of his stay in Tahiti.
So there I sat (for several weeks) at the Ashley Marina in the Charleston harbor, “virtual” sailing my brand new shiny sailboat – which, by the way, was equipped with the Hunter “sail-away package” – a package the broker assured me was all one needed to circumnavigate the world. A third lesson learned in as many days – there is more to sailing around the world than just buying “a sail-away package”.
Unfortunately there is a limit to how long one can “virtual sail” a brand new sailboat – though over the passing years, as I have walked the docks of a thousand marinas, I have often wondered just what percentage of these beautiful boats are “virtual sailed” by their land locked owners. But for me the peer pressures and the viral admonishments from an angry wife (who never met my grandfather and thought she had better uses for the bonus money than an impulsive purchase of a sailboat that I did not know how to sail) forced me to abandon the virtual world and step into reality – a scary thought to say the least, although at the time my high level of male hormones would never allow me to utter the word “scary” or admit that I did not have clue as to what I was doing.
So on a very quiet Saturday afternoon I learned how to start the Yanmar diesel engine – thankfully after a few attempts cranking the engine a really nice guy on the boat next to me diplomatically suggested that it was generally a common practice allow the glow plug to preheat before expecting the engine to kick over. The same guy, thankfully, helped me to cast off my lines and gave me encouragement from the bow of his boat as I hesitantly left the dock – of course it never stuck my mind that he was not being encouraging at all, but instead nervously protecting his pride and joy from an obvious and hazardous novice.
While I did not dare, nor did I know how, to raise the sails, the day proved to me that grandpa knew his stuff and Danish eel fisherman’s blood did run through my veins. Returning to the dock a few hours later, after motoring up and down in front of the crowd of tourists walking the Charleston Battery, my newly found friend and a half dozen other boat owners frantically fended me off a handful of boats in the marina, and with only a modest loss of grace but with a sizable bounty of humility, the shiny new boat and I managed to return relatively unscathed. And, I learned my fourth but very profound watery lesson – virtual boating just does not equate to the real thing – no way Jose!
Over the next few months, I learned many watery lessons. For example, do not try to raise the jib in front of a crowd of people walking along the Charleston Battery especially if you cannot distinguish the foot from the leach – hanks do attach to the head stay. Or, do not attempt to sail in three feet of water when your draft is four feet – especially if you have a half dozen guests on board who were previously convinced that you were an experienced and seasoned seaman – I have no idea where they would have come to such a premature but erroneous conclusion. Or, do not tie your boat lines tightly to the dock when there is a possibility that a six foot tide will occur twice daily. Spring lines, tides and currents, wind and the need to keep grass and tube worms off intake strainers became more than anecdotes in my lessons learned book.
As the weekends, passed my confidence gradually grew – although my book of lessons learned seemed to grow at a more exponential rate – and soon I found myself trying to get the “rail down”, testing just how close to the wind I could come, and practicing, with authority, my commands such as “prepare to jib” and “prepare to come about” with my crew (my then six and ten year old daughters and now ex-wife). Ultimately, my crew lovingly (I think that is the operative adverb) compared or placed me in the same league with Captains Bligh and Ahab – but then, in reflection, those references may have been more directed toward my command presence than my seamanship.
This project was submitted by Bob Salnick of DE45 Eolian
This project is from the winter of 2004/2005
During the last months I had noticed that the amount of water being delivered out the exhaust pipe had been decreasing. (Water? Out the exhaust pipe? Read on.)
First, a brief lesson on marine engines… ours is ‘fresh water cooled’. That means that it is exactly like a car engine. Except that instead of an air-cooled radiator, we have a heat exchanger which is cooled with sea water. The engine coolant and the sea water do not mix, any more than the air and the engine coolant in a car mix – they are separated by the internal walls of the water-air heat exchanger (radiator) or water-water heat exchanger (marine engine). Once the sea water has picked up the waste heat from the engine, it is put to one final use: It is dumped into the exhaust gases to cool them so that high temperature plumbing is not required for the exhaust system. It exits with them. The injection point is at an elbow on the very end of the (water cooled) exhaust manifold.
 I had cleaned the exhaust elbow once before by poking around inside it with a piece of wire – I am sure that I didn’t do a very good job, but I did get the water flowing again OK that time. This time, I decided to remove the elbow and acid pickle it to clean it completely.
It looked easy.
Tho the working space is very cramped, the elbow itself is not large, and it is held onto the exhaust manifold (painted blue in the picture) with only 4 nuts. Well, when I tried to turn the first nut, the stud it was screwed onto immediately broke off. Right here, it stopped being easy. Working on this in place is absolutely impossible, so now the exhaust manifold had to come off too.
Fortunately, the exhaust manifold is held on by only 4 nuts (the Perkins 4-236 has siamese ports). Two of these nuts are accessible from the top, but the lower two are firmly hidden behind the heat exchanger. OK, so that had to come off too. In typical British engineering, before you can take something off, you must first take something else off (apply recursively, forever and ever).
Because the available space to work on this is an awkward wedge-shaped small torture chamber, removal of the heat exchanger was a real difficult chore. Once it was off, the exhaust manifold came out easily.
I used a nut buster to cut the remaining nuts off the mounting studs for the elbow and removed it.  The studs were corroded to about 1/2 their original diameter – no wonder the first one twisted off. I applied heat with a torch, heating the studs to red heat and cooling them alternately, and finally they were removable from the manifold with a pair of vise grips – even the twisted off one. (Note to self: never use excessive force if you can get a nut buster on the nut…)
Using a scraper, I began to remove the layered deposits from inside the elbow. Immediately I poked thru the pipe nipple which served as the outlet piece (providing a place for the 3″ exhaust hose to attach). OK, as it was rotten, I made no attempt to unscrew it, I just cut it off flush with the elbow using my sawzall. Then I used a chisel to bend the remaining threaded ring inside the elbow to the inside and removed it.
Finally, I hammered away at the deposits inside with a chipping hammer, and then pickled the elbow in concentrated HCl. The results were sobering. Corrosion (or erosion?) had eaten more than half way thru the elbow in various places. Combined with the easy scraper penetration of the outlet nipple, this whole thing was a disaster just waiting to happen. I am SO HAPPY that I had removed it when I did.
After cleaning, another defect was revealed. This exhaust elbow was constructed from a 2.5″ 45 degree pipe elbow, on which an external channel had been welded (very nice job!). Finally, a hole was drilled into the external channel at the outlet end of the fitting to provide the water exit into the exhaust gas stream. In order to ensure that water exiting the hole would not find its way back to the exhaust manifold and the engine, the hole was drilled as close to the exit as possible (good!).
Unfortunately, it was drilled so close to the exit that it was in the threads, and when the outlet nipple was screwed in, it partly occluded the hole, undoubtedly spraying water back toward the engine (defeating the purpose of drilling near the exit – bad!).
I checked and found (very surprisingly) that a new exhaust elbow was only $88. Aside from solving the corrosion problems, this elbow also had a water exit in the form of a 3/8″ x 1″ slot instead of the 3/8″ diameter hole in the old elbow. This will pass perhaps 4x as much water and will take a lot longer to block with lime than the small hole, partly covered by the exit nipple.
 When I attempted to remove the flange end from the old elbow, the pipe broke off (corrosion again…). A repair was therefore necessary. Rather than weld directly on the flange plate (which would cause warping, and thus poor gasket contact), I cut off all but about 3/8″ of the old pipe. Then I bought a 2.5″ pipe nipple, and cut off an appropriate-sized piece. I beveled the ends of both and mig-welded them together. Since the new fitting had a heavier wall thickness than the old (corrosion again?), there was a shoulder on the inside – I welded this too.
After grinding and painting, it looks really nice!
Reinstalling the exhaust manifold was easy, but then attaching the exhaust hose to elbow was really tough. I installed new studs in the exhaust manifold. Then I cut off about 3/4″ of the old exhaust hose because the new elbow assembly is a little longer than the old one – tough job! This is heavy hose (1/4″ wall thickness), with two, very hard, spiral steel wires inside. Then I coated the inside of the hose with silicone and inserted the elbow. Wow – that makes it sound easy! Actually I fought it for the better part of a half hour, grunting, groaning and bruising myself trying to get the elbow far enough into the hose. Finally, with more grunting and bruising, I had the flange over the new exhaust manifold studs and the whole works tightened down.
Lots of water comes out with the exhaust now!
Visit http://windborneinpugetsound.blogspot.com/ for more great adventurers with Eolian
As I’ve been spending the last 2 months repairing things that broke and improving things that bugged me while crossing the Pacific, I thought that I might reflect a bit on some modifications I made that really worked well. Here’s an incomplete list in no particular order:
- Pin rails – The pin rails give Bodhran a salty appearance, but have also turned out to be incredibly handy. I originally built them to store the halyards while at the dock so that I wouldn’t have to bungee them away from the mast at night. The pinrails perform this task admirably, but also keep the mast free of clutter while sailing as well. When I installed my removable lazy jacks, I didn’t install cleats on the mast, instead they just get the second forward on each side. My running backstays when not in use attach to the aftermost pin. My foreguy for whisker pole attaches to the foreward most pin both when in use and while stowed. You get the idea.
The pinrails were fairly easy to build. First I got the bronze belaying pins from the Wooden Boat Foundation Chandlery. Then I took two mahogany 1×3s (teak would have been better) about 6 inches longer than the width of the lower shrouds where I wanted to attach them. I bolted them together and then drilled them out to accept the belaying pins. The I used a table saw to cut a 7/32” grove at an angle to match the shroud in one of the planks. Then just route the edges, slap some varnish on them and bolt them to the lower shrouds. The half without the groove compresses the wire into the grooved side to hold time in place.
- Chest high lifelines – Here’s an easy one I got from Brion Toss at a rigging workshop I took in Port Townsend. We all know that the knee high lifelines on a boat aren’t worth much unless you’re in really bad weather and are crawling forward, which I’ve certainly done my fair share of. Wouldn’t it be nice to have something there at a height that would actually stop you from falling overboard if you lost your balance instead of just tripping you further and sending you head over heels into the water? Well chest high lifelines are just the thing. Just last a d-ring to your cap shrouds at about shoulder height and then run a line from the bow pulpit, through the d ring and back to the pushpit, or even better the radar arch if you have one. They work even better on ketches, where you can attach a d-ring to the mizzen shrouds and keep the lifeline chest high for most of the boat. My lifelines cut in a bit right at the edge of the cabin top, but I never mind chafing against them at sea when I go forward, to the contrary it’s a nice feeling to be reminded that there’s something out there holding you in.
- Boom Gallows – Yeah, they’re pretty but they’re functional too. When I bought Bodhran the previous owner threw in a hunk of teak that he’d been meaning for years to turn into a gallows. Well it took me 4 years to get around to building one, but I’m sure glad I did. I picked up the bronze frames and bases from ABI and then used schedule 40 stainless for the uprights. My buddy Lou was kind enough to use his band saw to cut a nice curve into the wood and cut out the notches for the boom. Then I used PVC to mock the whole thing up and find the proper height so that boom would clear the gallows when raised. Then I clamped the rough cut teak in place and scribed the outline of the jaws, cut and fitted the wood, and slapped on some varnish.
The Gallows is great while motoring in any kind of a seaway. It allows you to get the boom locked down solid and eliminates the creak as the boom sways back and forth. It does the same for those long downwind legs when you’ve just got the jib up or in those really hairy situations when you’ve got the main down and have the trysail up. With the boom sheeted tight against the gallows, the entire boom becomes a great handhold. The uprights also make great handhold when going forward from the cockpit.
- LED masthead light – Well this one is pretty easy. When I first took off in 2006 it was always really easy to find Bodhran in a crowded anchorage with her distinctive LED anchor light. Now it’s getting hard to find a boat that doesn’t have one. Those old incandescent lights draw almost as much current as my refrigeration and they aren’t as bright as the new LEDs. It amazes me that many people don’t use their nav lights while underway offshore because they draw too much current. I picked up my masthead light from SailorSolutions. They’re kinda pricey, but they only draw .2 amps and are very bright. I couldn’t be happier with this product.
- Monitor Install – Just like pretty much everyone else who owns a monitor, I’m in love with this thing. It steers a better course than I can in anything above 3 knots of apparent wind. Of course keeping the sails balanced has a lot to do with this, but I also believe that my install works particularly well as it eliminates a couple of extra blocks and keeps the friction in the system to a minimum. What I did was to install the monitor so that the base of the unit was even with the cockpit sole. I then glassed in two 1.5” PVC tubes between the transom and the cockpit. Instead of running the Monitor control lines through the frame of the windvane, I lashed to good roller bearing blocks to the frame. The control lines run from the steering oar, through my blocks, through the transom tubes and then through blocks on the cockpit sole directly below the wheel adapter. So each line only goes through 2 blocks and the control lines are out of the way and don’t pose a tripping hazard. I also got two more cockpit drains out of the measure. Surprisingly I haven’t ever noticed any water come in through these tubes even though I’ve done 1000s of miles downwind with sizable following seas.
- Mainsheet Traveler – When I bought Bodhran she had the end of boom “A frame” style mainsheet system with no traveler. The system worked. There was lots of mechanical advantage, I didn’t need a winch to sheet the main and having the sheet at the end of the boom is the best possible place for it to keep the boom from breaking if it ever dips in the water. On the other hand, I had miles of line for the main sheet and it would take the head off the helmsman whenever I gybed. It also prevented me from having a bimini over the cockpit, which really is essential in the tropics.
So I decided on changing to a mid boom setup with a traveler. The Schaefer traveler with risers did a nice job of securing the traveler to the cabin top while clearing the companionway. Having the traveler forward means that you get much more control over the boom than you would if if you had a traveler at the end of the boom. As it turns out, whenever the seas are really running and I’m worried about the prevented boom hitting the water, I’ve got a double reef in and the boom is raised high enough that it hasn’t been an issue…..so far.
- Reefing Winch/Lazy Jacks – Being able to reef in a hurry is a the top of my priority list for offshore sailing. It’s right up there with self steering in order of importance. I’ve elected to keep my cockpit and decks as clean as possible and don’t run any of my lines aft. I use slab reefing with the aft lines for both the 1st and 2nd reef points run through individual turning blocks on the boom and lead forward to a double rope clutch and cheap nylon winch at the forward end of the boom. For the luff reef cringles, I use a 1/4” boom vang assembly attached to the base of the mast with a hook on the reefing hook on the end to place in the appropriate reef cringle. When it’s time to reef, everything is in one place. I ease the mainsheet, lower the mainhalyard to the appropriate point, winch in the after reefing line, put the hook in the luff reef point, pull tight on the 4-1 vang style setup, go aft and reset the mainsheet and I’m done. The whole thing normally takes less than a minute. My ease of reefing is greatly enhanced by my battenless mainsail and my retractable lazy jacks that keep the furled sail neatly on the boom. The battenless main allows me to reef on any point of sail without having to round up into the wind.
- Bow Roller – The stock bow roller on the Down East 32 is woefully inadequate. It just won’t accept large enough tackle for the boat. I picked up a 20KG Bruce, which has been a great anchor for Bodhran and used it as the start point for a new roller system. I decided to leave the original roller in place and still use it very effectively for my snubber line. I decided to instead cutout the aft section of the bow pulpit and install a double roller in it’s place comprised of a u shaped stainless plate over the bowsprit and two l shaped plates on the pulpit on either side. A hole was drilled through all 3 with a 20-something inch long bolt stretching from one side of the pulpit to the other for the new rollers to mount on. The system brings the weight of the anchor aft a bit, which I’m sure is good for the bowsprit, though the main pull is still on the snubber line and the original roller. It gets a little cramped getting my 35lb CQR secondary and my 44lb Bruce on there at the same time, but they do fit. The only real problem with this arrangement is that I periodically ding the gel-coat under the bowsprit when retrieving an anchor. A well placed metal plate on the bow would take care of this if I ever got around to it.
To see more about Bodhran please visit http://www.jasonrose.com
April 2006 The Puddle Jump
April 8th we finally left Puerto Vallarta. Next stop the Marquesas Islands. We were treated to quite a send off with a dolphin show that “Sea World” could not have produced.
 Factor in that immediatly after the show, the fishing reel started to whine and Phoebe called it, fish on! We had snaged a 65 pound marlin. Phoebe had been requesting one our entire time in Mexico and here it is. Normally we would not keep a marlin but we had a minor mishap with our freezer. We defrosted the freezer prior to reloading it with weeks of prepared and frozen food. The problem was that we forgot to turn the thermostat back up. Thus Emma and her Mom’s week of provisioning, preparation and pre-hard freezing went to waste. Thus the marlin was pure luck and we enjoyed every bite.A couple days later near the Socoro Islands, we were visited by the Mexican Navy. The Captain requested to send a boarding party over to examine our “papers” upon my respose that our papers are ready for his inspection, he kindly declined and wished us a pleasent voyage.
On our crossing we only saw two other ships. One was a Chinese tanker coming from New Orleans via the Panama Canal on to Korea. The other was a Chinese container ship coming from Austraila bound for Mexico. There were also a couple of Japanese long liner ships out for tuna, but the fear factor of a war ship or huge tanker/container ship vs. a fishing vessel is astronomical.
After the dolphin show and the Mexican Navy the Pacific Ocean did a strange thing. It turned into a placid lake. We were becalmed for nearly 6 days. The picture on the right is a boobie resting atop a sea turtle. Below is a picture of Peterdog. You could see fathoms down the water was so stll and clear. We were enjoying our blue water sailing but we were kinda looking forward to seeing the Marquesas before June. The next day the wind began to build and it did not shut down until we dropped anchor in Hiva Oa.
We averaged about 120 nautical miles per 24 hour period. Emma, Peter and I broke up our watch schedual into 4 hour periods. After home school & boat projects we usually had our daily backgammon tourneyment. It was unbelievable that Peter won nearly every game. It go so rediculous that in order for Peter to win he would have to roll a double 6 or he would lose. He rolled a double 6. I told him he must have sold his soul, because it was unreal. The last time I had such a losing streak was with Emma’s Mom in Nepal. There we played gin rummy and I lost every game.
Underway, we were always harnessed in and clipped to the jack line. Drake had the same unform the whole trip, boxer shorts, and Phoebe wore her jammies everyday. It was nice not having to worry about what to wear. The kids did amazing, they never complained and were great. If they were bored, they would watch a DVD or play their gameboys. They slept in the back bedroom with Emma and I slept on the couch or V-berth. No on ever became sea sick. Emma was very creative with preparing canned meals, and we never had a bad one.
Thursday, April 27, 2006, we all became shell backs. The children drew pictures and made crowns for King Neptune and the adults opened a bottle of Dom Perignon for the celebration. Of course we offered King Neptune some libations, in hopes for a safe passage. To the right is a picture of us crossing the equator and to the right Mr. G documenting this ocassion.
After crossing the equator we wrote a message with our boat card and put it in the bottle and Phoebe threw it overboard. It will be interesting if it is every found and we get a reply.
Before and after the equator we sailed into the surreal ITCZ (Intertropic convergence zone). This place is unreal. We did not have a moon at night and it was very dark, you could not see the squalls coming, other than knowing there were no stars in the sky. Unlike on land, you could not smell the rain. All of a sudden you would be hit by 30+ knots of wind from the wrong direction and the seas turned into a washing machine. Waves would be coming from all directions. During the day we would have our genoa, stasyl and mizzen up, and at night we would have a reefed main, stasyl and mizzen. For the ITCZ we might just have a reefed main
Below is a picture of an approaching squall. We quickly learned that there you can not out run them. Our first experience was in the middle of the night and scared the !#$%^& out of us. After that we enjoyed the opportunity to wash the boat and ourselves.
Land Ho!
Phoebe made the call and we were all happy to hear those words. The Island of Hiva Oa directly ahead. After 27 days at sea (three without beer) it was a welcomed site. With land in site Peterdog finally lost his winning streak of backgammon. 
To see more of Blue Sky’s adventures go to http://www.thevoyageofbluesky.com
|
|
Recent Comments