Sailing log

Girls together

December 2021, Day 4. Nothing was done on the boat that day. We just sailed Sea Sun, my Hunter 19, from West Beach Marina to Commanders Point Marina, to keep her next to the Irwin 34. By the way, the name was decided: the Irwin is Vira now. A bit over two hours, about 6–7 NM, at 3–5 knots, in a nice 5–20 knot wind, 10–13 °C, with rain at the start. Thanks, Eugene, for the help. Now the girls are together!

Welcome to the marina.

In March 2022 they asked me to free the second slip, so the girls got rafted together.

In April I washed Sea Sun. The small girl was so dirty, covered in dust and pollen. Now she's clean and ready to sail. And the lake keeps going lower and lower.

In June Vira moved to a spot on the dock closer to the entrance, so now it's actually possible to get aboard.

The first real sail

August 2022: a whole day, from 6 AM to 7 PM, of sorting, organizing and packing every part, tool, epoxy and paint into plastic trays, so nothing flies around when we sail. Maria and I vacuumed and washed almost every corner of the boat. Before, before sunrise, and after.

Then came the sailing day, with a big crew: me, my son, my father and Eugene. Lots of fun. Mostly we were learning this new boat. The wind kept changing speed, which was a bit annoying, but some tacks were really fun. I learned how to handle the big genoa and the relatively small main. She heels pretty easily to about 20 degrees, then holds it there. We tried beating with 100° tacks, and it worked.

There were some incidents. We had an "intentional" man overboard drill: dropped the sails and motored back to pick up the "MOB". And water came in through a broken PVC pipe that ran from the "chain locker" to the cockpit drain thru-hull. The open end of the broken pipe went under water when the boat heeled to port, so we got 5–6 gallons in the bilge. Very minor. I clamped a rubber hose between the thru-hull and the PVC pipe, so it can't happen again.

Docks that move

In late August Vira went from the repair dock to a pocket slip, much easier for going sailing. That's the good news, and probably all of it. The slip is only about a foot wider than her beam, the corners have no protection, and it's the fourth dock from the lake, so every wake rocks the boat. I spent money on dock wheels. To fit 12-inch wheels I had to set the mounts flush with the dock; otherwise the boat couldn't get in and out. I started early, to get a couple of hours in before the sun got high and the real Texas hell began.

In September she moved again, to what I hoped would be her permanent dock until she was ready for big water. The arrow shows the top of my mast, the tallest one. And the lake kept dropping. Sad boats... last winter the water was more than 6 feet over this one, and I sailed over it.

October: another new spot, new ducks, and an even narrower slip, literally 10 inches wider than the beam. I had to figure out the dock corners, so I could get in more or less safely.

A sunset sail: me and my lovely wife Maria, the day before our 24th anniversary.

Lazy sails and bonus pictures

February 2023, a lazy sail. Only about 110% of the genoa, no main. 15 knots with gusts to 20, broad reach to beam reach up the river. Then it got to a steady 20 with gusts to 28, and the "crew" wasn't ready to beat upwind, so we motored back. No pictures on the way back; we were busy.

A foggy morning at the marina.

August 2023: Lake Travis was still dropping. The boat on the far left, now on dry land, was 8 feet under water, and I maneuvered over it in January 2022. Another bow sticking out appeared a couple of months ago; now it's 3 feet above the water. The docks on the hill were right at the waterline once. The lift tracks end in the air.

Swapping slips

After the marina turned the whole dock and Vira's transom ended up too close to the shore, the owner agreed that I could swap slips with the boat across the walkway. We did it one evening after work. A good workout. The part I was nervous about went VERY easily: turning Vira in a tiny space, backing all the way out through the narrow water and around to the office dock. I worried about prop walk, but it wasn't as bad as people said. Then we had to move the neighbor's boat into Vira's old spot by "walking" her along the docks with boat hooks. About 600 feet, and she didn't want to go straight. A couple of times we drifted too far and had to "fishtail" the rudder to get back. About an hour of fun, and both boats were in their new slips.

In December 2023 I got a birthday "present": finally at least one formal course, ASA 101 Basic Keelboat. After more than 5 years of sailing every weekend, I had never done any formal training or certification. Two training and test days under sail. That's me.

New year, new official pictures.

Single-handed, and a night sail

In January 2024 I joined David on his Pearson 35 for a great 2–3 hour sail in about 10 knots. On Sunday I tried for a sunset sail, but the wind was gone, so I just motored out, sat for half an hour and motored back. It was my first time docking Vira single-handed. No damage to the boat or the dock!

February: the morning went to tidying, so there's less mess on the floor. The main job was sorting the wires in the wheel pedestal and connecting the depth sounder and log to the OpenPlotter computer, so no more kneeling on the floor to read them. The previous owner had mounted the instrument so low on the pedestal that it was almost useless. Here's my dashboard now.

In the afternoon, a nice sail in a steady 10 knots from the south. 15.2 NM in 4 hours, an average of 3.2 knots and a top of 6.5. My hull speed is 7.0 knots, so pretty close, considering the last bottom cleaning was in September. She points pretty well. Here's one of the close-hauled tacks, 6.35 knots on a beam reach (the top was higher), a bit of relaxing, and coming home at night, still under sail. The wind dropped to 5–6 knots but stayed, and the full moon helped a lot.

A 76 mph gust

The next morning we had a few minutes of gusts up to 76 mph at the marina. The docks got dragged a good 50 feet and pushed against the cove wall. Luckily no boats were on them. The walk bridge bent. There was no water left between the docks and the rocks. My "paint booth" was destroyed, and a dock was twisted 30 degrees. And some bonus pictures.

Summer on the lake

July 4th, 2024: six hours of sailing. A good way to celebrate.

VicVic, my younger son, at the helm. The standard picture. 11.6 NM in 3 hours, 10–18 knots, reefed. Pretty good sailing: heel under 15°, holding 3–5 knots.

December: a nice, peaceful afternoon with friends. 5–10 knots, no surprise gusts, up to 4.5 knots about half the time. Ready to go. That's me.

April 2025, a couple of pictures for reference: the nav station desk with the water and fuel gauges, the secondary switch panel and the 21-inch protected display. The electronics are behind the display, which flips down for access.

May 2025, a happy sailing day. 15–25 knots, a little overwhelming, but lots of fun. More than 40 tacks in 5 hours, 21 NM on the log (4 knots average), and the max I saw was 7 knots. Literally at hull speed.

In June I had been fighting with a 4G Wi-Fi hotspot plus a Wi-Fi client plus a router, so I could reach my OpenPlotter computer remotely. Then I found a pretty cheap 4G/Wi-Fi/Ethernet router in an IP67 outdoor housing, with PoE, so no separate power cable. One device instead of three, and it could go on the mast. So far it works great even inside the cabin, by a port window: up to 8 Mb/s in a spot where a phone barely gets calls. And a couple of hours of afternoon sailing.

In July Lake Travis got its water back: 20 feet in 24 hours. We have a lot of water! We had some sailing fun on Saturday, about 4 hours. We went upstream, and after about 1.5 hours of nice sailing the police stopped us and POLITELY asked us to go back to the marina. Then we learned that the lake was closed to recreational boats because of all the floating debris, and that the search operation was still going on.

A couple of pictures of the boat.

September: a nice day, about 6 hours cruising Lake Travis in an almost steady 10–15 knots, with a couple of 20-knot puffs. 21 NM on the log (sadly the track was lost) and at least 40–50 tacks. Sailing a "river-type" lake is a bit sporty. My younger son and a friend were aboard. And a marina update: they moved a dock with 20 boats on it all at once. Tetris for adults.

The last sail of the year with friends was one of the best. A nice steady wind, 4–5 knots, never more than 15° of heel. Everything perfect. Then three weeks out of town, and then the jailbreak.

Wooden horses to hold the mast during transport. And a little motoring out to the lake and back, the last on Lake Travis.

Galveston Bay

March 2026, Kemah. A rainy evening, my first night aboard Vira. Kemah Boardwalk Marina after the rain. Vira at night.

And then the first time under sail in Galveston Bay. The very first time. About 5 hours, 15 knots, choppy water, but a real joy to sail after all that work. Leaving Kemah, the taste of freedom, me and my son. The autopilot didn't work after all the reassembly. At the dock we found that the key had fallen out of the rudder stock keyway, so the arm just turned on the stock instead of steering the boat. So Viktor hand-steered almost the whole time. And we came back to the dock in one piece.

We weren't alone. Lots of sailboats were out that day. This toy went REALLY fast; I'd say easily 10 knots.

April: a very active Sunday. 20–25 knots and 2–3 foot seas with a 3–4 second period. Almost like horseback riding. A well-working autopilot makes a difference.

Brochure forecasts

I planned a nice, gentle sail with my wife. The forecast confidently promised 5–8 knots, waves under a foot and partly cloudy skies. A brochure-perfect day. Reality, of course, delivered 10–15 knots and short, choppy 1–1.5 foot waves. Still OK, right up until it was time to go back. Then the drizzle started, and we had to go dead downwind. For the next hour we got the full education in downwind sailing: rolling, wobbling, and questioning our life choices. Needless to say, Maria was not happy.

There were some happy moments, though. Me and my happy wife, motoring out of the Kemah channel, my brave co-captain Vic, and the autopilot on duty. And Saturday night at a local restaurant.

May: two days, one for work and one for pleasure. Not many pictures, just my happy wife. The forecast said 0.7-foot seas and 5–10 knots. We sailed to Redfish Island, about 8 miles from Kemah. Beating into the wind, but not bad: she ran nicely with a little heel at 3–5 knots, and everyone was happy. We anchored with a couple of other boats and swam in the bay for the first time. The water was great.

As always, I used the chance to check under the boat. Task one: rope on the prop. When we motored away from the boatyard, I had caught the swim ladder line in the prop. Thank God it was old enough to break, or we'd have been in real trouble. But part of it had stayed there all this time. And yes, about 4 feet of rope were wrapped around the shaft and the prop. The bottom paint works GREAT. But the prop and shaft had small barnacles. Looks like I'll need to clean them every month.

Magic always has a price. While we relaxed at anchor, the wind came up to 15–20 knots and the waves built to about 2 feet. It's the bay, so the waves are short, and the motion gets uncomfortable fast. An hour and a half of rock-and-roll, even though we weren't dead downwind. On the other hand, a steady 7 knots, almost hull speed.

June: 26 miles in 5 hours. A nice wind and not many waves: 5.7 knots in 8.4 knots of true wind! I think that's really not bad, at least for me. My son and his friend were aboard.

After nearly two hours of rigging, adjusting and playing with the new main, we decided to stop working, put the old one back and actually go sailing. Lively conditions. You know that feeling of sitting inside a washing machine? One of those days.

The water under the floor

July 2026, Saturday morning. We hoisted the new sail and went out to sea-trial the new standing rigging. 15–20 knots. A great sail, though the weather never let us put up the full main, so most of the day was 5–6 knots with the first reef and just a "corner" of the jib.

At one point a stronger gust, maybe 20+, put the toe rail in the water. Nothing excessive, just a normal reaction to a decent gust. Five or ten minutes later I heard the bilge pump alarm. I jumped into the cabin and found 2–3 inches of water under the cabin sole. My boat has a very shallow bilge, so even 5–10 gallons looks dramatic.

First thought: "Houston, we have a problem." We weren't far from the marina, so my first reaction was "let's head back". Then curiosity took over. Where was all that water coming from? A quick taste test gave the answer: fresh water.

I knew right away. I had forgotten to close the fill valve between the main tank in the V-berth and the small day tank on the port side. The water in the front tank rose above the top of the vent line and simply poured out through the vent into the bilge.

Then the stress turned into laughing, and we had the rest of the day for sailing.

At the end of July: nice weather, 5–8 knots from the southwest in the morning, so we could beat almost parallel to the ship channel. We tried to get to Galveston, but at Redfish Island the wind dropped to 1 knot and then swung straight to the south. We went a couple of miles past the island and turned back. Here's the Houston ship channel, the new main at work, running downwind with the genoa collapsing now and then, and just a fish at the dock.

August: a calm day, 4–6 knots and almost no waves, a 16-mile round trip. My 4-year-old granddaughter, my older son and his wife came along. It was very hot, so we turned on the AC from the inverter to give the little one a cool place to rest. After 3 hours we headed back, so the family could get home at a reasonable time. Just pictures of other boats on the bay.

Small things that weekend: I replaced the onboard Wi-Fi router with a 2.4/5 GHz one with a VPN to my home router, so I can back up the system and watch the boat remotely. And I vibe-coded an OpenCPN plugin that shows the true wind on the chart: the blue arrow. Lee lines maybe later.

Kemah to Galveston and back

August 2026, a real full weekend. This trip was:

• The longest weekend trip I've ever done on Vira.
• The closest she's been to REAL sea water.
• My first time in Galveston, and the first night away from the home marina.
• Sailing in the busiest commercial traffic I've ever seen, and using AIS for real, not for fun.
• The first try at a night without AC at 30 °C (but then I cheated at a slip).
• The first time crossing the ship channel in Galveston Bay, and the first cooking underway.
• The first absolutely sober sailing in a while.

Early Saturday morning in the marina; out of Kemah at about 10:20. Captain VicVic. Peaceful cruising toward Galveston in 5–6 knots, hiding in the genoa's shade. A motorsailer in the Galveston channel. Then beating hard as the wind came up.

Getting closer to Galveston, I really understood why I had installed the AIS transponder and how useful it is in tight traffic. Here we are on the MarineTraffic map; sadly I didn't screenshot our own screens. Being right in that traffic, with cargo ships, barges, ferries and dozens of smaller boats, was pretty intense. Not nearby, not watching it, but in it. An ADULT feeling.

The Coast Guard docks in Galveston. We officially anchored at the Teacup anchorage. A nice dinner after a long day, and a sunset on the hook.

When I had asked on a forum where to anchor in Galveston, they recommended Teacup, but also warned that there's a lot of traffic nearby and it's not exactly calm. OK, I'm not looking for an easy life, and it's one night. After dinner we saw just how much traffic there was. The wind held us almost exactly beam-on to the wakes, so every 5–10 minutes the boat rolled 15–20 degrees from side to side. It was not going to be a sweet-dreams night.

One guy on the forum who mentioned Teacup (though he didn't exactly recommend it) had also said I could use a free empty courtesy slip at the marina where he lives aboard, five minutes away by motor. So I messaged him. He answered almost immediately: "I'm on the docks in a yellow shirt. I'll point you to a slip where you can stay overnight." A very heartwarming moment.

We pulled the anchor and motored over in the last light. D Yami met us on the dock and helped us tie up, Vic thanked him, and he just quietly walked away. I invited him aboard for tea, rum, gin or cider, but apparently helping two strangers find a peaceful night was enough socializing for him, and the invitation went unanswered. He had also told us we could plug into shore power. So instead of rolling 15–20 degrees all night at anchor, we had a quiet dock, electricity, AC and a good night's sleep.

Sometimes the best piece of cruising gear is just a helpful person on the dock in a yellow shirt.

The next morning we didn't want to overuse the hospitality, or get "caught trespassing", so we left as early as we could. The plan was 6 AM, but after a good night with the AC I barely scraped myself out of bed at 7. A quick coffee, some breakfast, and off the dock ASAP. Symphony of the Seas had been docked about 1,000 feet from us that night; I took her picture as we passed. Goodbye, Galveston, city of big ships.

On the way back we followed the east side of the ship channel. Nice wind, sailing at 15° of heel. We met a boat from our marina on the way. And these bastards, lovebugs, found us in the middle of Galveston Bay, hundreds of them! They don't bite, they don't sting, but they're too annoying. And they fly in pairs, so it's always twice as many as you think. At 3 PM the wind died below 2 knots, so we started the engine and motored the last hour home.

Birthday on the bay

In September 2026 we had a great weekend on the water. It was my birthday, and we spent six lovely hours on the bay. Almost flat water and 3–6 knots of wind, perfect for relaxing. No sporty sailing, no drills, under 10° of heel and 2–5.5 knots, whatever the wind gave us. We even had hot tea and birthday cake (Napoleon) underway, thanks to our big boy: the 3.5 kWh battery and the 3 kW inverter. Just me.

The next day, a little boat work, but coffee first. A small software fix: pressing AUTO on the NavPod didn't take the current heading as the target. Now it works like autopilots normally do: press AUTO, and the boat keeps going where it's pointed. Then a cockpit shower, half done: the cold water line runs to the lazarette, with a ball valve and a shower head on the pressure system. For now the head and hose just live in the lazarette, so you open the hatch to use it. A thermostatic mixer and a proper cockpit outlet will come later. And cleaning the lazarette: more boat yoga. It hadn't been cleaned since the repairs and was full of fiberglass dust. The captain in the box.

After a hard day, a few hours of sunset sailing.

October: two hours out in the bay, but really bumpy for the crew we had. 15 knots and a 1.5–2 foot chop.

November 2026: a nice couple of hours of evening sailing on Saturday. And that's where the log stands for now. To be continued, on the water.