The SPOT

Given the Zen-like state of my EPIRB, I decided to also carry a SPOT personal locator. It's like the EPIRB in that you press a button when the shit hits the fan and it sends your position to a rescue coordination center via satellite, but the SPOT is a lot more lightweight. This is partly because it has a tiny battery (which lasts "up to" 24 hours as opposed to "at least" 48 hours), and partly because it lacks the secondary homing transmission that can guide rescuers to your badly mangled, shark-chomped body.

But no worries, I have plenty of other stuff with which to bring rescuers in. Specifically, 9 signal flares (3 red, 3 white, 3 parachute), signal mirror, strobe, horn, whistle, glowsticks and fluorescent dye. Though I've read reports that this dye is a shark attractant possibly because the sharks were trained during WWII that the scent of this dye marked the presence of a juicy pilot. I'm hoping that the shark community has forgotten this lesson.

BTW, click on Current Location in the right hand column to see the latest position of my SPOT beacon.

On dry land.

Back in the US and then headed to India, so there'll be few posts until June 9th.

The Retreat on Pto Pollenca

Pto Pollenca is a beautiful place.

Apparently, this was a retreat for Spanish intellectuals at the turn of the previous century. It's a giant complex built in neoclassical style, around a tower designed to defend the Bay of Pollenca from Dragut. There is even a lighthouse on premises. It was apparently sold to a businessman for 9M euro, who recently sold it for 32M. It's unused at the moment though, and is completely devoid of life. This is a huge pity, as the place has a lot of potential. I firmly believe that the government should be able to nationalize any property from people who're doing too lame a job with it. This applies to domain names for sure, land, cars, boats, and anything else, really. It's a new, more radical doctrine of eminent domain. For proper effect, someone like a TSA agent should come to your house and say "I'm sorry sir, you're doing way too lame a job with this thing you've got, so we the people have decided to repossess it." Because this place is begging to host a computer science conference.

Maiden Voyage

So I took Guizmo for a solo spin in the bay of Pto Pollenca. Incidentally, this was my first time solo on a keelboat.

Putting the main up took a lot of effort. I remembered why I liked sailing the International-14 so much: all the forces are barely manageable by regular arm power. On Guizmo, the forces are getting to the point where the winches are essential equipment. And trying to strongarm the sail can leave you with a back injury pretty easily.

Once the main was up, it was a quick push off from the berth I was sandwiched in, in between a giant Guardia Civil boat and another large boat being outfitted to travel to Trieste, off to the open seas.

The outboard engine does not work at the moment, so I was quite anxious about how I would return to the dock. I also did not know if it would even be possible to douse the sails easily. So I kept all the bumpers where they were and did not deploy a kite. With just a main and jib, and 4 knots of wind, the boat ends up reaching its hull speed of 5.5 knots in just 10 seconds or so. It's a very nimble boat! Kind of comparable to a skiff. And it can go much faster than this, essentially by skipping on the surface of the water, but that will require some extra sails, extra wind and extra effort from me.

Here's a 360 panoramic sweep while the boat is underway in the Bay of Pollenca on her "maiden" voyage (she's been around the block, has even been to Brazil in '05 minitransat race, but this is the first solo sail with me).

Evening Sail in Bay of Pollenca

Went out for for an evening sail with Pere Antoni and Javier in the Bay of Pollenca on Per Antonio's X-99. Dinner of sobrasado (Mallorcan pork sausage, one of the many awesome culinary inventions from this island) with honey followed by pasta.

Looking back on Pto Pollenca on a calm evening.

A boat with a proper galley

Javier and Pere Antoni

She Floats!

I launched the boat with the help of Lucas and Per Antonio, and Guizmo floats!

Guizmo, shortly after the first time I launched her

The Awesome Paint Job

I never thought I'd fall in love with a green boat. My favorite color is blue. Almost everything in my closet is blue. When I draw boats, I invariably draw them with blue hulls. So it was surprising to fall in love with Guizmo, with its green hull.

Unfortunately, the hull had some major cosmetic damage (though no structural issues) when I bought it. You can see it in these pics -- the repair job left much to be desired.

Someone went crazy with bondo

The crashbox on Guizmo seems to be well-used

The first, and to-date the only, thing I contracted out on Guizmo was a new paint job. The boatyard in Pto Pollenca charges 32 euro per hour, which seemed like a great rate (equivalent work would cost $65-$75 in the US). This seemed like a great deal, so I opted for it. I was under too much time pressure to spring for painting the whole boat, which would have cost 2000 euro, so I opted for the boatyard to do some patch painting. I also offered to help, partly to keep costs down, and partly because I enjoy fiberglass work.

Jaime, a whiz with a spray gun

Toni, El Patron

They assigned a guy named Jaime to painting the Guizmo. He's 60+, has only one tooth and is incredibly likeable. He's either supremely meticulous, or he's been assigned to me to work very slowly and rack up hours. I don't know which, and I'm afraid to ask for a younger, peppier worker, because I suspect they might all be kind of slow, and no one else will be as fun as Jaime. In Jaime's defense, he does not take a siesta like everyone else and looks down on everyone who does. We speak a weird mixture of Spanish, English and French. He got very upset when he first spoke to me and I said "no parla Catalan." His response was "(points to me) No parla Catalan. (points to himself) No parla Catalan! (points to self again) Parla Mallorquin!!!" Technically, neutral third parties consider Mallorquin a dialect of Catalan, but clearly, these neutral third parties have never met Jaime or else they would not be alive to pass judgment on this topic. And apparently, I stumbled onto a political minefield right there.

Jaime works for Toni, who reminds me of the singer Al Bano, who sang the song Felicita with Romina Powers. Well-educated, very likeable, he's also a very conservative engineer or else a very good salesman or both. He kept counseling me to delay the paint application until the weather improved, and I ended up taking some chances to be able to launch the boat on time. Luckily, the clouds dissipated without any precipitation, and the boat looks as awesome as it does in the pics below. His conservatism also made me buy way more paint than I needed, so now I have enough paint left over to paint the boat once more, and then paint all the Spanish shutters on all the houses in Pto Pollenca. Oh well. Interestingly, Toni asked me why someone would ever leave Mallorca to visit the US. I was at a complete loss -- I cannot imagine much that might draw someone off of this awesome island and live in the US.

Jaime has done an amazing job on the paint. I went with a high-tech paint where some dude comes by your boat, takes color samples with a spectrometer, and makes a special paint that precisely matches your color. I was skeptical about this, but the resulting paint really does match perfectly. The boat no longer has any damaged spots. It looks awesome.

Now, onto the other repairs....

The Regatta

Amador

Pablo

Guizmo was painted yesterday and needs to dry out. So no launch today; I cannot even climb into Guizmo as I would have to touch the paint and that would ruin it. Two local sailors, Amador and Pablo, invited me to race with them on their 38-footer in a regatta off of Alcudia (next bay over from Pollenca), as they were short-handed. I had nothing to do and had not yet been to Alcudia, so naturally I jumped at the opportunity.




Amador is a pro sailor who has done 3 transatlantic crossings, one of them solo. Pablo operates a large hotel in Alcudia and has crossed the Atlantic with Amador. It was great to sail with people who know what they're doing and speak good English to boot.

Pto Pollenca Bay, calm in the morning

The sail out to Alcudia was in very choppy seas. I had to go down to the cabin to get clothing and equipment, and ended up getting very queasy for half the voyage. I was beginning to question whether I was ready to embark on the Med crossing with Guizmo, but apparently everyone else, including Per Antonio in his boat and Amador and Pablo on ours, were also affected. Luckily, I kept my breakfast down and managed to do things around the boat, but I had major tunnel-vision and felt pretty awful. The panorama below, although unintentional, accurately reflects how I felt and saw the world.

Alcudia Bay, after a wavy, bumpy passage

Once we got to Alcudia, we pulled into port and had lunch at the yacht club, followed, of course, by a siesta. The siesta fixed me up and I felt great for the rest of the afternoon, throughout the regatta.

View at the pier in front of the Alcudia yacht club

Amador's very young girlfriend and a friend of hers joined us as well. They didn't speak English, weren't involved in sailing at all and just hung out on the rail. I told them that this is known in the US as being "railmeat," whose Spanish translation, "carnetas de barca," seemed to amuse them.

It turns out that most Spanish sailing terms are exactly identical in Italian and Turkish. Pasarella, foc and iskota are the few that I can remember right now, but for the most part, I was able to follow fairly easily even when Amador and Pablo spoke to each other in Catalan. The one new term I learned is "tangon," which means "spinnaker pole" and apparently has other uses in slang as well.

After a double up-and-down course with two well-executed spinnaker sets, we crossed the finish line in fourth or fifth position, practically side by side with another boat. On corrected time, we were fourth, so we did not get a trophy or a mention at the award ceremony. But the award ceremony had open-buffet Spanish food accompanied by a giant vat of mojito, so no complaints.

The Boat and its Electrical System

I hooked up the sound system, so we're ready to sail.

Not really. Guizmo has a very complicated set of instruments that need to work right.

The first thing I fixed is the VHF radio. For some reason, the radio insists, positively insists, on knowing its GPS coordinates. It beeps like a maniac if it doesn't, which renders it completely unusable. So I spent some time wiring it up to the GPS chart plotter. The annoying beep circuitry seems to be more content as a result.

More importantly, the auto-pilot needs to be able to track the wind and adjust accordingly. The previous owner has left the top of the mast in a mess, and I noticed a bit late that the windvane is upside down. It only intermittently transmits information. I need to fix this before I can sail.

The rest of the systems look good, though. And I did hook up the sound system, and it's awesome to work on the boat with some music.

Charlie's Angels

Jean, Ann and Pat

Everyone thinks that I'm partying it up in Mallorca with beachfuls of topless women, but Pto Pollenca is mostly empty this time of year, except for the British pensioners and the young expecting couples. Not sure what it is, but practically every female under the age of 35, and there aren't that many, seems to be pregnant. This must be a British thing: "you must visit Pto Pollenca when you're with child." The couples seem to prefer one of the other hotels that are further away from the main thoroughfare and are thus more quiet. My hotel is mostly empty, which is great, except for these three lovely ladies.

They caught me checking myself in the mirror to see how much of my hair I had accidentally painted white, and told me that I "still looked beautiful." In turn, I nicknamed them Charlie's Angels. If there was crime on the island, I bet they would fight it. They live in very different parts of the UK but meet in Mallorca regularly. Since they were genuinely concerned about my safety on this voyage, I told them I'd create a blog and point them to it. So hello Jean, Pat and Ann!

The EPIRB

So I have this Austrian-issued Kannad EPIRB, aka Emergency Position-Indicating Radio Beacon. Essentially, you keep this device around until the shit hits the fan, at which point you press the big red button on it. That sends a message to a satellite, which sends it to the Austrian coast guard, which then rescues you.

I know what everyone's thinking: does Austria even have a coast, let alone a coast guard? If they do, wouldn't they have this guy working for them? I actually spoke to the Austrian coast guard, and they not only exist but seem to speak very good English. Except when they pronounce COSPAS/SARSAT, the name of the satellite system backing the beacon network, at which point they fall back on a very impressive speech pattern that most of us have only seen in WWII movies, usually among the Gestapo. But frankly, I'd rather have the Gestapo be in charge of my rescue network: you know they will catalog every little detail and pay exquisite attention to detail. So, I think we're good on the coast guard front.

The second question might involve the battery expiry date, of 2008. I know how I design systems. I assume that's how everyone else designs theirs. So there is probably a wide safety margin and there is no cause for alarm (I'm hoping here that the Kannad engineers were not pushing for an SOSP deadline).

Here's the real problem though. The beacon has very clear instructions on how to test its operation. I'm supposed to press the test button. And then, if I see "5 white flashes," I'm "OK." If I see "5 red flashes," I'm "not OK." You can see the description in the picture.

I press the button. I see: 1 white, 1 red, 1 white, 1 red, 1 white, 1 red, 1 white, 1 red, 1 white, 1 red, 1 white flashes. 6 white and 5 red. Am I OK? Am I not OK? Am I caught in the elusive "Z" state of a tri-state buffer that is neither on nor off? Have I reached a Zen-like transcendental state that encompasses everything at the same time? I haven't even embarked on my soul-searching voyage yet.

Da plane! Da plane!

There is a small airforce base in Pto Pollenca, not far from where I keep Guizmo. They have a few fire-fighting planes, and they seem to constantly practice takeoffs and landings on the water. It's quite a sight, and a welcome break from working on painting the inside of the boat, covered in paint flecks and breathing fumes. 

Palma

I went down to Palma for some sightseeing.

As always, the food was excellent.

Shaving off thin tasty slices off of
pigs' legs seems to be a national pastime

End result, well worth it

The city has all the usual features one might expect from a port city that has been attacked repeatedly over the centuries. Specifically, it has a nice port, an old quarter with tight streets, and highly geometric city walls that are probably shaped like a 20-gon, with interesting guard towers.

There is something retro and iconic about this building

In Spain, Goldilocks appears at her tower
only after 1am, and parties until sunrise

But in addition, the city walls feature one of the most impressive moats I've ever seen. Moats are an awesome home improvement idea that should be featured more, or ever, in This Old House. I can conclusively assert that every single little boy out there, and probably every girl as well, has dreamt of living behind a moat. But at some point during the growing up process, this fantasy gets displaced by the tedium of grownups' mundane aspirations. Temporal logic dictates that there must be some definable point, a specific instance in time, when the moat dream dies off for good. I suggest that we define that point as the definitive end of one's childhood (the end of the "floor is now lava" game can be used as an early indicator of this impending, irreversible change).

Wonder if they ever brought alligators from Africa to this moat

But how awesome would it be to have a moat? I bet that if you put one around your Manhattan apartment, its price would triple overnight. I'm surprised no one has done this; it combines Americans' love of gauche, show-off ideas with their distaste for strangers. Mallorcans have pulled it off incredibly well. I assume it was borne out of necessity initially, but then they must have taken delight in extending their moated city. As if to scream "nyah nyah, can't get past our moat" at the world, they've placed a gorgeous Cathedral just barely inside their moated city walls. Kudos to them for keeping the dream alive.

Moat and Cathedral

The geometry of the door is identical to that of the Pope's hat

Shark Attack

Beach in Pto Pollenca.

Can anyone ID if this is a shark or a skate egg?

What You Gonna Do When the Guardia Civil Come For You?

I was painting Guizmo's bilge when there was a huge commotion outside. A chopper was flying in circles over me, there was a serious-looking military vessel doing weird maneuvers right in front, and a police car raced to the secluded pier where I was.

Los chicos malos circling overhead

A guilty conscience is a terrible thing: I was convinced that they had somehow figured out that Guizmo was not registered with the Spanish Coast Guard and were coming for me. But then again, my boat was on land. So, in its current state, it really was no different than any piece of furniture. No one registers their grandmother's French commode with the coast guard, so why I should I have to register anything?

It turned out that the Spanish coast guard had caught a couple of divers illegally harvesting red coral. The divers must have dumped their loot overboard when they realized they were being arrested, as all their 20+ containers were empty, and the coast guard must have dropped their own divers from the chopper, as there were a bunch of very wet policemen in wetsuits.

The powerboat next to the cop car was caught illegally harvesting red coral 

I looked into why people might want to buy red coral; after all, it's moderately expensive at around $5-$50 per karat. Apparently, it is believed to possess extraordinary properties in India. It is said to act as a talisman against evil, to cure circulatory diseases when set in silver and worn on the ring finger, and to bring harmony to a marriage. If there was any truth to any of this, people would be fools not to cover themselves in red coral. But for once, I agree with the Guardia Civil: the coral looks way prettier on the seafloor than in the form of jewelry.

Electrical Repairs

I needed to buy a small electrical connector for the VHF antenna today. Apparently, the electrician is next to the church in Pto Pollenca, so I needed to locate the church to get to the electrician. It was close to the end of siesta time, so the streets were totally empty, except for a waitress outside a restaurant. I decided to ask her for directions:

Me: "Parla Ingles?"

Waitress: "Nooo." She decidedly does not speak English.

Me: "Donde esta la..... church?" I make a cross with my fingers, as if to ward off some imaginary vampire.

Waitress: "Que?" She's standoffish. She might be a vampire. I abandon the little finger cross.

Me: "Church, church...." This is going nowhere. "Casa de Christo!" Not sure if it's de or del, but I'm pretty happy, this has to be a clear description.

Waitress: "Christo?" I guess it could be a common name.

Me: "El Christo!" Very proud I nailed the definite article.

Waitress: "No se." Crap. I thought, back during the Inquisition, they got rid of everyone who did not know Christ at a personal level.

Me: In a flash of inspiration, I open my arms wide to the side and cock my head, Jesus-style, and wonder 'at what point do I cross the fine line from foreigner who does not speak Spanish to offensive idiot?'  "Casa de Papa!"

Waitress: "Papa?" My body description is one step behind what I'm saying, which must be genuinely confusing, also I'm not wearing sandals (because I never wear sandals) so my Jesus impression is off. I think she thinks I'm asking about her father. She's probably confused because her father was not crucified.

Me: I'm out of words for a while. Then I get another brilliant flash. "Spiritu Sanctu! Casa de Spiritu Sanctu!"

Waitress: "Iglesia!!!"

Who says Latin is dead?

Guizmo's Keel

I own Guizmo, a minitransat located in Pto Pollenca, Mallorca, Spain.

Guizmo's keel, canards and rudders, painted in
high-visibility orange paint

Guizmo has some awesome features, of which the most exciting, for me at least, is its canting keel.

All sailboats heel as the wind exerts a force on the sails; without a counteracting force, sailboats would ultimately roll over and capsize. On the kind of boat that I used to sail until recently, International-14's, the skipper and crew don a harness, attach themselves to a wire coming off the mast, and hang out the side of the boat to counteract the heeling. The further they hang out, the greater their moment (literally and figuratively). Needless to say, this is a difficult way to travel long distances.

Most larger sailboats rely on a keel, essentially, an enormous piece of steel and lead that holds the boat upright. But the weight of the keel, so critical in keeping the boat upright, is a huge liability when wanting to go fast. The problem with a giant fixed keel is that, most of the time, it's not very effective, as it is not very far from the centerline of the boat. A boat with a 2m keel that's heeled 15 degrees with 1 ton of lead ballast will have the keel exerting only about 0.5 tons of force to right the boat.

Guizmo with its keel and parts
of its canards

Modern high-performance sailboats use a different arrangement: they rely on a relatively small keel placed on a hinge. The keel can then be canted to the side, with drastic improvement in the righting moment. In the same example above, canting the keel 60 degrees to the side will result in a righting moment of 1.7 tons. And even better, the part of the hull that remains in contact with the water can be flat, permitting the boat to skip on the surface of the water like a stone.

Of course, the keel does more than resist capsize; it's also responsible for making sure that the boat does not move sideways as it moves forward. It acts like a wing underwater to counteract sideways creep. But since it cannot do this effectively when it is canted to the side, the boat needs additional mechanisms to

Guizmo being tested for its
ability to right itself up with
the keel canted to the wrong side

stay on track. That's where the canards come in. They are lightweight, retractable wings on both sides of the boat that can be lowered to provide the sideways lift necessary to counteract creep.

Canting the keel on Guizmo is an awe-inspiring process. Inside the boat, a pulley system with 1:6 purchase goes to a winch with some huge purchase (probably 1:10), for 1:60 total force magnification. As you crank the winch and the 2 meter, 1 ton steel bulb moves up and to the side, all kinds of creaky noises come from the boat. I have not canted the keel fully to date, but I've seen it compensate fully for a 20 degree lean, which is amazing. On top of this, my body weight, stacking the heavy items to the high side, and maybe collecting some railmeat along the way and asking them to sit on the side of the boat can compensate for another 20 degrees.

The Semi-Destination

You may have noticed that there are lots of route options along the way, but there is one thing that is a constant: the need to go to Malta.

Not sure how I acquired the burning need to sail into Malta, but I remember being about 5 years old and dreaming of sailing into Malta's main port. I must have been affected by the stories of early Turkish sailors.



The world knows these "Turkish sailors" by a different name: pirates. Specifically, Pirates of the Barbary Coast. Essentially, the pirates that inhabited the northern coast of Africa joined forces under the Ottoman flag and kicked ass in the Mediterranean for a few centuries starting in the 1500's. These guys are so awesome that they deserve their own separate post, so I'll save that for later, but for now, the relevant point is that the one island they tried to capture but could not, the one area where they failed, was Malta.

Juan Mas

Turgut Reis actually died during the ill-fated siege of Malta, along with approximately 50000 Ottoman sailors. Some of you may have heard of Turgut Reis under his Western moniker, the dreaded "Dragut." He is the subject of many annual reenactments in Mallorca because of a minor victory they had over him. It's like the time Michael Jordan wasn't paying attention and someone, let's call him Juan Mas, jumped up and took the ball, and for the next 350 frigging years, his descendants have a 3-month long fiesta and celebration of the one time they snatched an airball from Michael Jordan. And they erect giant statues to Juan Mas, whose only accomplishment, as far as I can understand it, was to run back screaming to his home town. That's how cool and awe-inspiring Dragut was. In any case, let's leave the Mallorcan events aside; in Malta, Dragut was defeated fair and square by 5000 or so knights who defended the main castle.


Incidentally, the defenders are also cool enough to get their own post some day. They're known as the Knights Hospitaller of the Order of St. John (aka Knights of St. John, aka Knights Hospitaller, aka Knights of Malta, aka Knights of Rhodes) and are connected to a force of chaveliers left behind in Jerusalem during the Crusades. They ultimately moved to the area around Rhodes, Halicarnassos and Loryma. When the Ottoman navy overtook Rhodes, they had to flee the Rhodes area and leave behind their awesome castle in Bodrum/Halicarnassos. The King of Spain granted them safe harbor in Malta, reportedly for the paltry sum of two Maltese falcons per year. The Maltese falcons are now endangered, and probably extinct, with the last sighting in the wild back in the mid-1980's. As far as I can tell, there is nothing special about a Maltese falcon -- it's not even a separate species, they're regular falcons and they don't even live in Malta anymore. The king must have instituted a yearly token gift exchange just to remind the knights who the big boss is. Sort of like the secret Santa big corporations love to hold around Christmas time to boost spirits, except it's only one way, it's not anonymous and both sides know exactly who needs to feel indebted to whom. In any case, the upshot is that the name, Maltese Falcon, sounds supremely cool. Actually, Maltese anything sounds very cool.

The chief knight who defended Malta against Dragut was a fellow named Valletta. The capital of Malta is now named after him.

The crescendo of this trip will be reached when I sail into Valletta, Malta with the kite up. If it's not a windy day, I plan to motor out and then sail back in until I can enter the port with the kite up. That's how Dragut would have wanted it (also, cannons firing, but I don't have room for those on a mini).

The Beginning

Welcome. This is my sailing/travel blog. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. Who am I? I'll try not to link my real identity to this blog, but chances are that, if you're here, you already know who I am. If not, suffice it to say that I am a computer scientist who recently bought a minitransat that is located in Spain, and I intend to sail it across the Mediterranean, starting in the summer of 2011.

The tentative route

This is my planned route, with several alternative passages. I plan to stick mostly to a coastal route, avoid long passages, and stop at interesting sites along the way. A more hard core approach would have been to go directly east, perhaps re-stocking in Sicily and Crete. That would take much less time, but I'd miss out on all the interesting sites in between Spain and Turkey.

In any case, I'm not sure how well I'll be able to stick to this plan, or whether I'll be able to complete this journey this summer. Actually, I'm not sure if I'll be able to start at all, as the boat has a lot of issues that need to be sorted out. I'll try to document the process here, and as I go along the coast of Europe, I'll check into the blog from various locations.

Until early June, I'll be fitting out my boat, Guizmo, for the voyage. So expect a bunch of updates on fixing up the boat. The big journey will hopefully start at around mid-June.