Adventure in the Apostle Islands Part 2

“Might as well have a beer,” the idea being put forth by the captain.  With beer in hand, Tim, Mike and I contemplated our situation.  How would we be able to fix the mast and continue our voyage?  We discussed many ideas including motoring back to Bayfield, removing the mast and continuing our trip using the motor.  However, we weren’t going to give up without a fight.

The first attempt was to use the halyards and additional ropes to pull the mast straight.  Unfortunately, the mast had other ideas and wouldn’t sir come to our will.  We threw roped over the spreaders and pulled from all different directions.  The only thing we managed to move was the boat itself; as it would either tip towards us as we tugged, or move in our direction along the dock.  The mast however, was no straighter then it had been when we started.

That exercise took an hour or more an only added to our frustration.  It was at about that time that other boats arrived at the dock.  The first, a large sailboat full of boy scouts coming to Oak Island for a weekend camping trip.  The second was a patrol boat with rangers on it.  Neither proved useful. 

The Boy Scout troop found us curious and inconvenient.  Curious, because they apparently had never seen a boat with a bent mast before; inconvenient, because we were taking up a large amount of dock space where we had strewn a huge amounts of crap off of the Genius.  However, at no time did they ever offer to help us or inquire if we needed help.  The only comment the Scout Leader offered was, “you guys have a motor, you’ll be fine.”  Thanks buddy.  That instance still bugs Tim.  He felt that they should have at least offered.  What the hell, where was the good deed of the day?

The Patrol Boat crew didn’t offer to help either.  They were too busy collecting fees from drop boxes and left as soon as they had gotten what they came for. 

Not that we really needed help, we had come up with a plan and were waiting for the dock to clear so that we could implement it.  In the mean time we took the opportunity to go swimming and cool down.  I even did a cannon ball off the dock as the Patrol Boat pulled away and managed to splash water on their windshield.  Take that you rangers.  Good thing there’s no ordinance for obnoxious swimming behavior.

As soon as we had the dock to ourselves we got to work.  We undid all the rigging and carefully removed the mast from the Genius.  After we got it onto the dock we examined it to make sure it wasn’t damaged beyond repair. 

Luck was with us.  The mast was only bent; there were no cracks or other structural defects.  One of the spreaders was pretty badly mangled, but other then that we were in good shape.

Bear Butt (Dark Spot in the MIddle)

Sometime during the period that we were working on the mast, a bear ventured onto the dock seemingly curious as to what we were doing.  It was a black bear and we had been told earlier that they inhabit many of the islands.  I guess I didn’t expect to see one come out onto the dock.  So, like any naive tourist, what do I do?  Grab my camera of course, and go running down the pier towards the bear.  Smart!  In retrospect, it wasn’t one of my brightest moments.  Fortunately for me, I scared off the bear, but did manage to get a great shot of its ass end as it ran into the woods.  I returned to my friends with a smile on my face.  They just looked at me like I was nuts.

Tim, Mike, and I carried the mast off the dock and towards the woods looking for two stout trees located close to one another.  Instead, we decided to use the drop box, a short cylindrical tube with a slot in it near the top, and the notification bill board in and attempt to straighten the bent mast.  Our first attempt only managed to dislodge the drop box from its hole.  Oops.

"The Sign"

We moved to a different spot, our next attempt, putting the drop box back in place, more or less, as we did so.  On the second try we used the “Oak Island” sign.  A relatively large sign with 4x4 posts securing it to the ground.  The forest had been forgotten; it would have been too hard to walk the extra fifty feet to a couple of useable trees.

Our second attempt worked and the mast was coaxed back into the correct alignment.  The crew then returned to the dock, mast in hand.  We laid it out and arranged all the rigging, to prevent a jumbled mess as we reattached it to the Genius. 

There was still the spreader to deal with.  Without it, the mast would simply bend again once there was any strain on it.  I examined it more closely.  The connection point was a mangled piece of metal that use to attach to the mast.  Tim was convinced that it was hopeless, and we would be forced to go back to Bayfield.  

“I can fix it Tim,” I said, examining the spreader.

“How, it’s completely wanked?”  Tim exclaimed.  “Without it we can’t sail.”

“I know……trust me, I can jury rig it,” I said with confidence.  “I need wire and duct tape.”  The requested items were quickly made available to me, as well as a pair of pliers and most likely, a beer to help me think.

It was actually pretty simple.  I bent the metal back into its former shape and reattached it to the holding bracket on the mast.  I then secured it with wire and covered the whole mess with duct tape.  It wasn’t going anywhere, and was probably stronger then the original attachment.  It looked hideous, like the spreader had a big black tumor on it by the mast.  We were now true trailer sailor trash, and proud of it.

“There you go buddy,” I said to Tim once I had completed the job.  He inspected it and found the repair to be more then adequate.  Our journey could now continue.  That is once we got the mast back on the boat and re-rigged.  I firmly believe every boat should carry wire and duct tape as an essential part of any repair kit.

Within an hour Tim, Mike, and I had the Genius ready to resume her voyage exploring the Apostle Islands.  However, by that time it was getting late and dusk was upon up.  We cooked dinner on the dock, ignoring the posted rules to the contrary.  After all, we were tired from the day’s activities and were in no mood to find a proper picnic area. 

There was only one thing left to do.  Leave the dock and find a place to anchor.  We should have just stayed tied to the dock, but instead moved a couple hundred feet away and anchored the boat.  It would be a rough night.  The wind picked up and the water became very choppy, rocking the boat for the duration.  Tim, who was worried that the Genius would slip her anchor, was up every thirty minutes checking the boat’s position.  None of us got much sleep.

To be continued………….