Legends of the (Northwest) Fall

Fall in the Northwest can be non-conducive to providing many decent sailing opportunities.  I should preface this by saying that Fall usually begins around the second week in October, plus or minus a week depending on the year.  Before that, it is summer.   And summer begins July 5^th, but that is a different story. 

A "great" day for sailing.

At any rate, during Autumn, you have to expand your definition of “good sailing conditions.”  You also have to seize any opportunity to get out that you can!

There are limitations.  The days have shortened to the point that nipping out for a quick sail really is not a worthwhile proposition, so, at least for working stiffs, sailing opportunities are confined to weekends.  Even on weekends, you have to commit to getting out on the water early, because the daylight isn’t going to hang around forever. 

Then there’s the weather.    The peerless, idyllic summer days are gone.  The skies are going to be grey.  You have to mentally redefine a “sunny day” to mean “hmm…I think I see a spot of blue over there!” 

The weather pattern also tends to be dominated by endless series of storms moving in off the ocean.   It tends to be either gale force winds and raining, or totally calm and drizzling.  Sometimes the rain stops, though you still have to cope with grey skies and at least the threat of rain.  You have to be ready, or at least resigned to the fact, that you are going to get damp.  Maybe not drenched, but damp.  But you can’t rule out getting drenched either, I suppose.

Since the weather is cooler, really the best you can hope for is wet and cold.  Having the usual mixture of Scandinavian stoicism and Gore-Tex present in most native Pacific Northwesterners can help one shrug off the wet and cold.  After all, umbrellas are for wimps and tourists. 

Under a "hole in the sky,"  courtesy of the rain
shadow of the Olympic Mountains

Once you’ve pushed past the wet and cold, you have to conquer the winds.  As mentioned before, Aeolus shows bipolar tendencies this time of year.  I’m guessing it is due to a lack of Vitamin D.   Anyway, neither dead calms nor Small Craft Advisory conditions as are really ideal for spending time in the cold and wet in a small craft.  There is a secret, though.  There are brief periods right before or right after a storm, just as a system is moving in or out, that the winds are just right for truly exhilarating sailing.  These windows of opportunity maybe only a couple of hours long, or may even last nearly a full day.  Know when these are coming, carve out some time, grab your rain gear, and you are set! 

There's something else...the Olympic Mountains.  They are due east.  Incoming weather has to go around them, either to the north or the south.  Where the weather that went around the south and the weather that went around the north collide, well, that's called the Convergence Zone, and it can be very, very, very wet.  But, but, if the wind is blowing just right, you may find yourself  in the rain shadow of the Olympic and it will be sunny when it is grey and rainy everywhere else. 

Being chased by a nasty looking raincloud.

I took Solitude III out recently during one of these windows.  Sailing was fantastic.  The wind was right around 12 kts, just at the point at I still feel comfortable singlehanding without a reef in.  Solitude moved fast on the beat downriver.  I had other commitments later in the day, so I made just out to the saltwater before I had to turn back….being chased by a very dark raincloud the whole way back.   It only  started drizzling just after I pulled S.III back on her trailer.   I only snuck in about an hour of sailing, but it was sure worth it! 

Post Partum

Such emptiness!

It has been just a little over a month since I launched Solitude III.  In the rush to get the boat together in time for the Wooden Boat Festival, many things were left undone.  I had the best intentions of pulling things back apart and finishing things right.  At the pace that I had been working, there was probably less than two weeks of work to do.

Of course, this is not what happened.  The first hiccup was the weather...it just stayed nice! This highly unusual meteorological happening allowed me to actually use the boat instead of work on it.  Sanding and varnish could wait.

The real problem though has been motivation.  I just haven't felt like getting home from work, changing clothes, going outside, and laboring away for an hour or two every night.  After that big, sustained push to get the boat where it is, I'm tired.

There is also something about not having the boat in the garage that is creating both mental and practical hurdles.  On the practical side, it means that some tasks are more complicated. To varnish the dropboard retainers of companionway hatch, I would have to construct some sort of tent to protect the wet varnish from dust, bugs, and dew.  Coating the dropboards with epoxy would necessitate creating a second set of temporary dropboards so that the cabin can be secure and weathertight while the originals are drying on the bench.  And so on.

But there is a mental aspect to it too.  The boat was built in the garage. That's where work on the boat has always been done, where it should be done.  Not just that, but there has always been a boat under construction in this garage since I moved in!  Now the nest is empty.  How can I work on the boat if it is not there?

This is not to say that I haven't done any work on the boat in the past month.  The boom gallows finally got sanded and recieved its first coat of epoxy. The radio is now wired and functional.  I've made some rigging tweeks.  But seem like pretty small accomplishments compared to what yet remains.   It is true that continuing to take polite nibbles will eventually complete a large number of tasks, there are some tasks that will require concerted effort, like unbending the sails, removing and adding several more coats of varnish to the spars.  I guess that is what winter is for.

Gone Fishin'

"This isn't good fishing, its great fishing!"

"Coho fishing is on fire at Shipwreck".

"Its like Sekiu on steroids."

 

Solitude III is a sailboat.  Its main purpose in life is to bring pleasure and passage through sailing.  But when the fishing reports for your home waters are like those above, how can one resist mounting a couple of fishing rod holders, gassing up the trolling motor, and going fishing with dad?

 

From the Log of the Solitude III

4 September, 2012

 

 

Dad gets the fishing gear ready

"Today, Solitude went on her first fishing trip.  We were the only sailboat at the boat ramp, and had the only car serving as a tow vehicle.  After launching at Everett, Dad and I took her to Mukilteo and started fishing for Coho.  We fished from Mukilteo to Possession Point to nearly Edmonds and then back north again. 


The stanchions for the boom gallows
made a great place to clamp on rod holders

"We covered over 30 miles according to the GPS, on less than 1 gallon of gas.  Solitude get better gas mileage than my car!  In all fairness, going with the current helped a lot.  Still, the motor ran over 9 hours and only required its 1 liter tank to be filled three times.

 

"Fishing had cooled down since we saw those exciting reports in the newspapers.  No fish were landed aboard Solitude, and we only saw a two or three other boats catch anything. 

 

"We did see some warbirds fly overhead, including a B-25, P-51, Spitfire, and several others.  We also saw the USS Nimitz pass by on her way out to sea.

Everybody wanted to go fishing, even the Navy!

"On the trip back, we finally shut the motor off and sailed for a while.  But after about five or ten minutes of great sailing, the wind suddenly dropped and we had to fire up the noisemaker again.

 

"All in all, a great day on the water."





A great day for fishing!  Note, you can still see Nimitz off the port bow.



Getting to Know You -- Part III

Since launching, I have taken Solitude III out sailing a couple of times. These voyages have allowed me to slowly become more familiar with the boat: her likes, dislikes, and idiosyncrasies. Every boat is different, each has its good points and its bad. Keeping in mind the bias the undoubtedly results from having invested the last two years building this boat, I’d like to dedicate a few posts to exploring what I’ve learned thus far about this boat that I have built.

In this final entry in the series, I want to share some thoughts about the way the boat is rigged, adventures in dealingwith the trailer, and some of the ergonamics of the boat. 

 

Rigging

The PocketShip Instruction manual includes a guide to rigging the boat in the same way the John C. Harris’ own PocketShip is rigged.  It also tries to make it clear that rigging, particularly deck layout, is a matter of personal preference and that the individual builder is free to rig the boat accordingly.

As a starting point, I basically rigged the boat per the manual, with some minor variations.  In the time I’ve spent sailing the boat, there are some things I’ve decided to change, mostly revolving around making things easier to manage from the cockpit.

In initially rigging the boat, I did not lead the line for the jib furler aft to the cockpit, instead just bringing it back to a cleat on the mast.  I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea!   It works, but the manifold benefits of being able to take in the jib from to cockpit, particularly when singlehanding.  So, that’s a change that I’ll make when I get a few minutes to do it. 

Aside from that, the jib furler is awesome.  I love to able to instantly take in the jib, particulary when singlehanding.  This is not to say that roller furling is a mere luxury item.  In a boat this size, I can’t imagine anything bigger or less-dexterous than a lemur crawling out the bowsprit to deal with a hanked-on jib!

As I found out when sailing PocketShip, when the wind gets into the 10-12 knot range, it is time to shorten sail.  As a result of the excitement we had trying to reef PocketShip’s mains’l at the Wooden Boat Festival, I’ve now rigged Solitude for jiffy reefing.  In talking with PocketShip designer John C. Harris after that experience, I also decided to add another 100lbs of ballast to Solitude to keep her on her feet better when the wind kicks up.  I have yet to take her out in a good wind since making these improvements, so I will have to report on their efficacy later. 

 I’m trying to decide whether I like the placement of the cleats for the jib sheets.  Right now, they are forward on the cabin, integral with the jib leads.  I’ve had some trouble when singlehanding getting the cleats to release.  The designer swears that it is dead simple if you flick the sheet just the right way.  I vaguely remember “The Flick” from some of the larger daysailers I sailed back in college, but clearly I’ve lost the touch.  So, I debating whether to lead the sheets to cleats further aft, or just be patient until I rediscover some skills.  I’m leaning toward the latter.

Dealing with the gaff is something new for me. I’m still experimenting with getting the peak and throat halyard set optimally.  I’ve noticed that I seem to tend to have the throat set a little low and the peak set a little high.  I’m also still struggling with neatly furling the mains’l, and dealing with the gaff while tackling that operation.  My friendly neighborhood  kayaker, Ralph, gave me a snap-on strap as a boat warming gift to help with that issue…a few more of those might solve the problem.

On the standing rigging side, I decided to go with turnbuckles on the shrouds, instead of the lashings specified by the designer.  So far I like them, though Dieter, who I sailed PocketShip with and discussed the pros and cons of the rig with at the Wooden Boat Festival, had a distinctly negative opinion of the turnbuckles.  I understand where he’s coming from, and I need to think about his input.

One more struggle has been with the bobstay.  The bobstay attaches to the hull via the boweye.  I have to unhook the bobstay whenever I put the boat on the trailer.  I had purchased the bobstay premade through CLC, so in theory, if my boat had built built per the plans, it should have fit.  But, alas, the plans are a little nonspecific about the location of thebow eye, and as a result, by boweye is a little lower on the hull, and thus the bobstay is a little short.  I can still get it shackled if someone pushes down on the bowsprit whilest I attach the shackle.   The problem is that if I’m singlehanding, I don’t have someone to push down on the bowsprit.  I do not know what my solution to this is going to be, though it will probably involve standing in the hardware section of Fisheries Supply for a very, very, very long time.

Trailering

One of the big advantages of a boat the size of Solitude III is that it can be loaded on a trailer and towed easily.  The advantages of this are many.  You don’t have to pay moorage.  Anywhere with a road and a boat launch is your cruising ground. 

PocketShips everywhere are riding around on a rogues gallery of new, used, and repurposed trailers.  CLC offers a custom Trailex aluminum trailer; lightweight, but pricy.  PocketShip pathfinder Dave Curtis used an EZ-Loader…one of my top contenders.  Another of the PocketShip fraternity used a re-purposed, used trailer that was a little too small.  He hit a curb and the whole rig toppled over. 

I shopped far and wide, considered new, used, aluminum and galvanized, all sizes.  From a tow vehicle perspective, I couldn’t make a case for an aluminum trailer.     And I didn’t want to deal with the risk of any problems that might come along with a used trailer.  New boat, new trailer.  It’s only fair.

In the end, I selected a new King 15’-17’ galvanized trailer, with a 1750lb capacity.  Though the bare hull weight of the boat is in the neighborhood of 800lbs, with spars, rigging, ballast, and gear, the full up weight is more likely in the 1200-1500lb range, so including some buffer the 1750 lb rating seemed about right.   Another cool feature, the trailer has LED lights. 

My tow vehicle is my trusty 2006 Chrysler 300C, now equipped with a UHAUL-sourced trailer hitch.  Yes, the car has a HEMI.  This car has played a variety of roles in the life of Solitude III.   It has conveyed me to work, so that I might earn a paycheck so that I could afford to lavish Solitude with the good things in life.  It has hauled the countless board feet of lumber required to build Solitude.  It has whisked me to Port Townsend for the Wooden Boat Festival, when I’ve needed the motivation to continue my labors on Solitude.  So, it is only fitting that this trusty stead be pressed into service towing Solitude to the water and new adventures.

From a going-forward point of view, I don’t even notice the boat behind me.  I do see it in the gas mileage though.  The big V8 has cylinder deactivation, so during normal highway cruising, the car will return around 22mpg.  With the additional task of dragging Solitude III, all eight cylinders are making a contribution, as evidenced by the 14-15mpg displayed on the trip computer.

The trailer can be felt over a bumpy road…those springs that yield a 1750lb rating may be a touch still.  The car is also due for new shocks and struts, so that may help damp things out.  The trailer also makes itself known during decelerations.    The trailer has no surge brakes, and that added mass makes itself known through the brake pedal.

Arriving at the boat launch, I cast off the tie-downs, raise the mast, mount the outboard (I keep it in the boot of the car when I’m on the road), and doff my shoes and socks.   The whole procedure is currently taking me about 10 minutes.  Not bad.  Not bad, at all!  A tribute to the thoughtfulness John C. Harris put into the design. 

Next up, it is down the ramp.  With the combination of car (wheels pushed to the corners) and trailer (no drop axle), I have to back down until the car’s rear wheels are just at the water’s edge.  I set the brake, hop out of the car, wade into the water, unclip the winch strap and give a mildly might shove, setting Solitude free.  Hopefully I either have the bow line in my hand, or have a helper on the dock managing the mooring lines.  Park the car, attached the bobstay, and the operation is over.  It really is quick.

After an enjoyable time on the water, retrieval is almost as simple.  The only catch here is making sure that the boat’s keel is properly aligned and sitting in the keel box. In the water, pull out of the water (traction control plus plenty of power helps this!), strap here down and we’re good to go.  Upon arriving home

Ergonomics

As I have stated before, this is one comfortable boat.  The cockpit is spacious and well laid out.  So far I have only ever had one passenger aboard while under sail, so I am looking forward to see how it is with three of four souls aboard. 

I love my tiller.  I made mine out of 1” thick ash (ground down to ¾” to fit the rudder), instead of the ¾” dimension specified in the plans.  One thing I really noticed when at the helm of PocketShip, was that the little ¾” tiller made the helm feel a little sloppy and that tiller deformed under load.  The tiller also felt a little too small, too dainty.  Solitude’s has a nice, solid feel, doesn’t noticeably deform under load, and has a more comfortable grip, at least for me.  Not only is it good for handling the boat, but it could easily be unshipped and used as a club to fend off pirates, always an important consideration. 

I went to a talk by John Harris at the Wooden Boat Festival in which he talked about the design of this boat.  One thing that he considered important was that the boat be dry.  Thus far, I’d say he succeeded.  When motoring back to Boat Haven from Port Hudson directly into the chop in ~15kts of wind, there was a small amount of spray that made it to my lips.  This was a pretty extreme case, and either slowing down a touch or coming off the wind two points  alleviated it.  I have yet to take any spray in the cockpit while under sail. 

One thing that I’m less than happy with is probably mine own fault, and that’s the motor controls.  I find it a little tough to get into a position where I can comfortably manage the throttle, fwd/neutral, the motor’s tiller and the boat’s tiller, and my body all at the same time.  In high gain, precision tasks, like docking, something always seems to be in the way.  I think that if I had mounted the outboard on the port side instead of the starboard side it would have been better.

In Conclusion

So, these are the things that I have learnt about my little boat so far.  I’m sure that the more I sail her, the more I will learn.  It is a pleasure to learnmore about this thing that I have built, though maybe a little surreal.  It still hard to believe that my little boat, this project I’ve been working on in the garage, is a really a working, seaworthy, sailing vessel.

Getting to Know You -- Part II

Since launching, I have taken Solitude III out sailing a couple of times. These voyages have allowed me to slowly become more familiar with the boat: her likes, dislikes, and idiosyncrasies. Every boat is different, each has its good points and its bad. Keeping in mind the bias the undoubtedly results from having invested the last two years building this boat, I’d like to dedicate a few posts to exploring what I’ve learned thus far about this boat that I have built.

In this post, I want to make a few comments about the little noisemaker hanging off Solitude's otherwise pretty transom.

Under Power

There has been an ongoing discussion raging, seemingly forever, on the PocketShip forum as to what the right motor is for this boat. One group of partisans feels pretty strongly that 2hp is all you’ll ever need for a boat this size. Then, there’s the “I’d like to have just a little more, just in case” camp, which tends to lean towards the 3.5hp class motors. And then there is the “slippery slope” crowd. They usually start out a 2 hp, decided that want some buffer, so they step up to 3.5hp, but then for the same weight they could have a 5hp, and then they need a big external gas tank and reverse, and before long they’re at 6hp. I went down the slippery slope many a time in debating which outboard to get for Solitude. Fortunately, in the end, I managed to claw back up to the top of the slope and selected a 2.5hp Suzuki outboard.

I have used the motor in a variety of conditions, in winds from 0-20 kts, in calm seas and 2-3 foot chop, and with and against a reasonable current. In all cases I found the motor to be adequate. In calm seas, I hit 4.5 kts at about ½ throttle. Against the wind in a chop, I wasn’t quite so fast, but was still clearing a good 3 kts at ½ throttle. I tried punching it up to full throttle to see what more I could get out of it, but really only got more noise with no major increase in speed for my efforts.

A bigger issue is at the slow end. Even at idle, I feel like the motor is pushing me a little too fast. When navigating through the slalom course of tightly packed yachts on the way to my slip at the Wooden Boat Festival, I was constantly rocking in and out of gear to keep my speed down.

The motor has a number of pluses. It is very lightweight, coming in at under 30lbs. It seems to be reliable and easy to start so far. It has a real, shiftable neutral, instead of the stupid centrifugal clutch that some other small motors (the 2 hp Honda) have. It is water cooled, so it is relatively quiet. Of course, it is water cooled, so I have to flush it out any time I use it in saltwater.

The 2.5hp Suzuki has an integral 1 liter gas tank, and no provision for connecting an external tank. The motor is quite economical, and I haven’t run out of gas on the water yet, but I will admit to a degree of range anxiety nevertheless.

Another thing I’m not totally sold on is the 360 deg steering. Maybe I’m too set in my ways or too used to having a reverse. While there is certainly some advantage in being able to point the thrust vector whichever direction, I’m still having a tough time intuiting which direction to point it to achieve a desired, at least in the “reverse” direction. I don’t have that trouble with a motor that is in reverse. I wonder if it is psychological.

There is another problem with the 360 deg steering. It is very easy to turn the prop so it faces the rudder. The slipstream of the prop impinges on the motor, wrenching the helm hard a-starboard. Not pleasant.

So, there are pluses and minuses to the motor. I guess the bottom line is that I’m satisfied with the little noisemaker, find it to be a good match for the boat, and probably would select it again over its competitors.

As a footnote, I should also say that there is still a part of me that loathes having a motor on a sailboat. I consider it a necessary evil, though, from both a safety and convenience point of view. I wouldn’t want to venture out into Puget Sound without it. But I’ve brought Solitude up to the dock twice now, once singlehanded, under sail alone, and find that a far more satisfying act of seamanship than running the noisemaker.

Getting to Know You -- Part I

Since launch, I have taken Solitude III out sailing a couple of times.  These voyages have allowed me to slowly become more familiar with the boat: her likes, dislikes, and idiosyncrasies.  Every boat is different, each has its good points and its bad.  Keeping in mind the bias the undoubtedly results from having invested the last two years building this boat, I’d like to dedicate a few posts to exploring what I’ve learned thus far about this boat that I have built.

In this post, I'll tackle the meat and potatoes of the matter, Solitude III's handling under sail.  Future posts will examine my thoughts on her rigging, how she handles under power and other practical matters.

Sailing Qualities

This is, of course, all first impressions and may change as I spend more time under sail.  But, man, what a first impression.  This boat likes to sail!

Upwind, the boat is surprisingly close-winded for a gaff rigged vessel.  I’d estimate that she can get to within 45-50 degrees of the wind, close hauled.   My going in expectation was more like 55 deg.  The boat will heel over delightfully, popping quite readily up onto her chine and then becoming quite stiff.  As I experienced when sailing PocketShip, in big puffs, she’ll heel over a little more, letting the rubrail kiss the water.  Though at this point the crew took action to depower the sails a bit, she didn’t feel like she really wanted to go any farther.

Compared to the dinghies that I’ve spent most of my sailing time in, Solitude feels like she takes a long time getting though a tack, and takes a little time accelerating again on the other tack.  Despite this, Solitude holds her way well through a tack, and feels like you’d really have to make a hash of it to get caught in irons.  About halfway through the tack, the helm will suddenly get really light, and you lose a good sense of where the tiller is.  Several times now I’ve found myself inadvertently easing the helm as a result.  I can see this leading to me getting caught in irons if I don’t watch it, though I haven’t yet.  So, I need to be extra vigilant in keeping the helm a-lee when I’m coming about!

One of the idiosyncrasies of the design is that in tacking, it is important to avoid sheeting in the jib all the way until the boat gathers some way.  Sheeting in too soon leads to the boat continuing to fall off until she gets moving again.  I had expected this, based on both reports of the designer and reading about this “feature” on other traditionally rigged boats.  Still, knowledge is no replacement for experience, and I’ve already racked up several falling-off-due-to-oversheeting-the-jib incidents.   My current procedure when tacking is to let the jib fly, tack, build some way, and then sheet in the jib.  I don’t find this procedure aesthetically pleasing, though, since the jib spends a lot of time flopping about.  In future outings, I will be trying lightly sheeting the jib right after the tack, and then setting it properly when the boat is ready for it.  More experiments to come.

Her best point of sail seems to be a good beam reach.  Coming off the wind from close hauled, there is a point where the boat will give you a swift kick in the pants and leap up in speed.  Find that sweet spot, and the boat will yield a sailing experience second-to none. 

Things tame down going downwind.  That big mainsail will still push the boat pretty good, but everything feels relaxed.  The main tends to blank the jib quite a bit going with the wind.  Furling the jib would probably be just as well in these cases, but I’ve found I can bear off until I’m on a dead run and get the boat going wing-on-wing with relative ease.  On a run, the sails are very communicative, and they’ll let you know when they want to gybe.  The jib seems to always want to gybe first, which is a feature I like.  Sailing Lasers, I developed a dislike of gybing…the sail would sometimes just go, the mainsheet would hang up on the transom, and I’d be capsized before I could do anything about it.  Gybing Solitude provides good therapy for that trauma.

The PocketShip design is a touch overpowered.  I forget what her sail area-to-displacement is, but it is a big number.  This has some pluses, of course.  That big mains’l really makes the boat sporty in good winds, and gives her the ability to make good even in the lightest of airs.  On Solitude’s maiden voyage, we were pulling a solid 4.5-5 kts on a reach in about 7 kts of wind.  Sailing PocketShip, in conditions where we admittedly should have had a reef in, we were pushing 7 kts at times.  Maybe someone sitting in a 32 footer wouldn't bat an eyelash at these speeds, but this is all on a boat with a 13’8” waterline.  Hull speed is theoretically just shy of 5 kts.  The big sail, combined with a hull featuring a nice sharp entry and a nice, clean, racing-dinghy-like run aft really can combine for some outsized performance!  At the opposite end of the spectrum, last Thursday, I had Solitude out in winds of up to 2-3kts.  The boat cleared 2kts easily close hauled.  On a run, there wasn’t even enough wind to keep the jib filled, and Solitude was still good for 1.5 kts.

In terms of sail trim, I’ve found the jib is pretty sensitive on the wind.  The main, being the big, low-aspect ratio wing that it is, is much less sensitive, at least from a performance perspective.  That being said, the trim of the main does seem to play a pretty big role in balance of the boat.  When taking up a new point of sail, I’ll trim out the jib to just where it wants to be (and it always wants to be just where it wants to be), and then trim main in such a way as to dial in a fairly neutral helm. 

When hearing I've finally launched the mystery boat that's been in my garage, folks invariably ask how she sails.  I answer, "oh-so-sweetly."  She really is a sweetheart under sail, meeting or exceeding all of my expectations.  And if there is an area in which a sailboat should excel, it is sailing! 

What's in a Name?

Eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that as the boat has been nearing completion over the two months or so, I've been referring to it less and less as PocketShip and referring to it more as the boat or my boat.  And then, suddenly, the boat was on the water and I suddenly started referring to her as Solitude III.

The gradual phasing out of using the name of the design to identify my boat in this blog was deliberate and planned.  I knew the identity of the boat would be changing, and that I couldn't go on calling it PocketShip forever...after all, PocketShip is already named PocketShip!  Interestingly, it took conscious effort when writing to accomplish the transition.  For so long I had thought of that object in my garage as a PocketShip, for so long had I referred to it in the blog as PocketShip, that formulating sentences without the word "PocketShip" did not come naturally.  On the other hand, the second that Solitude hit the water, she became she instead of it...just naturally, no effort required.

Why Solitude III?  My folks' boat is Solitude II, and my great-grandparents' was Solitude.  No mystery there.

The graphic

Name on the transom!

When I took the boat to Port Townsend, she did not bear her name on her transom, though it did appear in the Festival's information.  I had designed the graphic for the name much earlier, but hadn't acted on getting it printed.  Finally, a few days before the show, I sent it off to a local signmaker to get it printed onto vinyl.  I finally applied it to the boat a few days after returning from the Festival.

Strictly speaking, despite having been on the water a couple of times and having a name applied, the boat has not been christened yet, something that surely violates nautical good taste.  It was such a rush to get her on the water, that it just got missed.  And since a name was required in registering for the Wooden Boat Festival...well, the cart just got in front of the horse on that one.  A proper christening will have to be done.