The mainsheet on our new Sabre 30 didn’t look right. It was the middle of a hot, airless July week. We’d bought the boat barely a month earlier, and now we were attempting to get it from New Jersey to Maine. Because of the lack of wind, the mainsail sagged as we motored up Long Island Sound. I had plenty of time to look at Ora Kali’s boom but not a lot of incentive to solve any problems. 

Then one day, we were tied to a mooring in the harbor at Scituate, Massachusetts, cheek by jowl with another Sabre 30. Wow, I realized: Our ­block-and-tackle arrangement is just wrong. 

The weight of the boom and pressure on the mainsail on a small boat are light enough that the connection between boom and hand can be direct, but a boat of any size requires an arrangement of block-and-tackle to make it manageable.

Block-and-tackle reduces the forces necessary both to hold something in place and to lift it. In terms of mainsheet tackle, a block-and-tackle system makes it easier for the person in the cockpit to steady or control the boom and to sheet in the sail when there’s wind.

Ora Kali has three blocks in her mainsheet tackle. While the arrangement on the port side was fine for holding the boom in place, it did not take full advantage of the power for sheeting in. I took down the blocks and rearranged them. The correct arrangement gives a 3-to-1 advantage on the aft block-and-tackle, and employs the forward block mostly for turning.

The sloppy mainsheet tackle setup shouldn’t have been a surprise. This was not the first instance of the boom being rigged wrong. But Ora Kali was in such good shape for a 38-year-old boat when we bought it that I assumed something this basic would be correctly run. 

When the seller bent on the sails the day before the sale, I was still dazzled by our good fortune in securing the boat and didn’t take careful notice of what he was doing. A week later, we took down the mainsail before we sailed off to inspect it for wear that might need repair and noticed that the tack cringle was hooked onto one of a pair of hooks normally used when reefing the sail. It became obvious why this was done: The gooseneck fitting was set up backward, putting the attachment point for a tack shackle behind the hooks. Useless. In fact, it turned out there was no tack shackle. It was a simple matter to reposition the reef hook/tack assembly, and I eventually found a tack shackle that fit. 

Another puzzle we chose to work around in the interest of setting off for Maine was a barely functioning outhaul. An outhaul is used to tension the foot of the mainsail and attaches to the clew or clew car, then runs to the after end of the boom and around either an internal or external sheave and forward, where it can be adjusted. If the sail is fixed to the boom with slides or bolt rope, as it was on Oddly Enough, our Peterson 44, then an outhaul isn’t crucial for setting the general sail shape. In fact, we rarely touched ours. 

With a loose-footed main, the outhaul has more work to do. The Sabre 30 is the first boat I’ve owned with a loose-footed main, and I didn’t understand what the rig was. The rope that attached to the clew car was not the same rope as emerged from an exit plate forward on the boom. When we tried pulling on either end, the car would budge only so far, and we never were able to fully stretch out the loose foot. I assumed that the outhaul had broken and a knot someone had made to add new rope to the original was jamming inside. 

During the spring refit, I looked up in-boom outhaul rigs and saw that they usually include a block-and-tackle to add purchase for adjusting the mainsail foot. This is fixed midway by a bolt through the boom. I took Ora Kali’s boom end off and discovered that the bolt holding the block had been run right through it rather than through a shackle, keeping it from swiveling. The two pieces of line were too big to run alongside each other freely. Between a seized block and the friction built up in the lines, the outhaul was useless.

The tricky part of this rerigging was snagging the shackle. I used a messenger line to pull the block-and-­tackle into ­approximate position inside the boom, then ran a ­screwdriver through holes in the boom and the shackle.

The last piece of boom ­rigging that bothered me was the topping lift. On Ora Kali, this was a fixed length of ­7-by-19 wire rope attached at the masthead with a small block at the other end. A Dacron rope ran from a shackle on the end of the boom, up over this block, down to the boom end sheaves, then inside to an exit sheave.

This is a fairly common way of rigging a topping lift, but I’m not a big fan of using wire in running rigging. 

The primary purpose of the topping lift is to take the weight off the boom when the sails are furled and for reefing. On my previous cruising boats, I had topping lifts that doubled as a spare main halyard. 

To fulfill both of these needs, I replaced the system with a single rope outhaul, shackling one end of the new topping lift to the after end of the boom, leading the other end over an unused masthead sheave, and installing a halyard exit plate at the bottom of the mast for the topping lift to run out and be adjusted. The lift is simpler, which I like, but running it over a masthead sheave puts it more in the way of the mainsail leach. To make sure we ease it when the sail is raised, I plan to bring the bitter end of the topping lift back to the cockpit to an existing set of sheet stoppers and a winch on the coachroof beside the main halyard and the mainsheet.

All in all, I now have a cleaner, more rationally rigged boom. 

Ann Hoffner started sailing when she was 9 years old. Along with her husband, Tom Bailey, she spent 10 years cruising on their P-44, Oddly Enough, in the South Pacific, Australia and Borneo. Ora Kali, a nimble, shoal-draft Sabre 30, is now teaching them the joys of Maine coastal cruising.

The post Rerigging the Boom appeared first on Cruising World.

The late Ted Hood, one of sailing’s most accomplished practitioners, mainstreamed roller-furling mainsails. He acknowledged that a sail being wound into one of his Stowaway Masts had to be cut flatter, devoid of horizontal battens, and lack a big roach. But despite these performance-sapping attributes, he saw the upside it would offer shorthanded sailors: The system demonstrated that performance is also linked to having the right amount of sail area set. And over time, making the mainsail behave like a zoom lens has proved to be as appealing to sailors as the latter has been to photographers. 

Initially, a few innovators attempted to retrofit older rigs with external, behind-the-mast roller-furling systems. In essence, these units were akin to a roller-furling headstay stretched between a beefed-up masthead fitting and the gooseneck. Unfortunately, as the tension between the masthead and gooseneck increased, the spar tended to bow and the luff of the mainsail curved to leeward. This made reefing and furling difficult, and placed excess stress on the spar itself.

Seldén and Schaefer solved the problem by adding evenly spaced track connections that linked the mainsail furler to the mast track. Today, Facnor also offers a refined version of this concept for those interested in converting a standard spar into one that hosts a roller-furling mainsail.

Meanwhile, spar-makers soon recognized that a specially extruded, open-trailing-edge spar could house a furled mainsail. A central mandrel, or furling rod with a luff-tape slot, rotates and retracts or releases the mainsail from within the mast. The design requires a way to support and tension the luff rod and a bearing system to handle rotation under load. The geometry of the sail slot and cavity is vital, as is the cut and construction of the mainsail. 

Hood’s sailmaking ­background and yacht-design ­business put him at the head of the fleet, and Stowaway Masts, with their mechanical, electric or hydraulic roller reefing systems, showed up on vessels from 35 to 100-plus feet.

The furling concept might seem fairly simple, but the devil is in the details. Hood, Seldén and many others eventually worked out most of the kinks, including maintaining proper furling-rod tension. But even so, care needs to be taken when furling and outhauling the mainsail, and that’s especially true when an electric or hydraulic winch does the pulling. The big danger lies in overloading the outhaul due to a hockle, or kink, in the furling line. Too hard a pull by a power winch can wedge the partially furled sail in the exit slot, or damage the drive system or the sail itself. Units with narrower exit slots avoid this “herniated” mainsail condition but add increased chafe concerns. Hood’s furling designs have continued to evolve and are now being produced by Formula Spars.

Just as monohulls and multihulls have their advocates, there’s plenty of partisanship when it comes to in-mast or in-boom furling systems, the latter being another option for those seeking ease of sailhandling. Both approaches succeed at sail-area reduction, and both act as a “force multiplier”—allowing a shorthanded crew to cope with a much larger mainsail. But there are also a few not-so-subtle differences between the two. 

Advocates of in-boom furling call the ability to have a deeper-draft, horizontal-batten-equipped, roach-sporting mainsail an important value-added feature. This means that when comparing equal sail areas, the in-boom option will outperform the in-mast alternative. The boom-­furling mainsail comes closer to matching the performance of a conventionally hoisted mainsail. Another big plus is that if the boom-furler function fails, you can still lower the mainsail conventionally.

As with most good things, there are also a couple of downsides that need to be recognized. The first is the size and weight of the boom, which is typically at least double or more the diameter and weight of a conventional boom. The weight issue raises some tactical and safety concerns. The heavier boom will more actively respond in light air and a rolling seaway, creating trimming issues. It also presents a greater risk to the crew during an unanticipated jibe, so more attention needs to be paid to the preventer or the boom brake. 

Ultimately, there’s a vulnerability to the short portion of track that leads the sail’s luff from the mast to the boom mandrel. The angle that the boom makes with the mast is very important, as is following the manufacturer’s furling guidelines. A heavy-duty mechanical or hydraulic boom vang will help ensure that the correct angle is maintained while reefing. 

Ted Hood was correct: Furling is the future. But a few of us still cling to the simplicity, sail-shaping advantage, and lessened chafe found in conventional slab reefing.

Ralph Naranjo is a circumnavigator, technical writer, former Vanderstar Chair at the US Naval Academy, and author of The Art of Seamanship, among other books.

Mainsail Furler Manufacturers

• Axxon Composites
• CDI
• Facnor
• Hood Yacht Systems
• Leisure Furl
• Hall Spars
• Rondal
• Schaefer Marine
• Seldén
• Sparcraft
• Southern Spars
• US Spars
• Z Spars

The post Mainsail Furlers Lighten the Load appeared first on Cruising World.

Our pal Ian Scott, the skipper of the Swan 36 Coco, was in need of some new rigging in order to set sail this season. With the help of our friends at West Marine, Cruising World walks through the steps to re-rig your sailboat. Want to get started on your own project? Make sure to visit the Rigging Shop at your local West Marine or visit their website.

The post How to Re-Rig a Sailboat appeared first on Cruising World.

Clive Strickett is a rugged guy, so it takes strong arms to winch him aloft to the masthead. But that’s exactly where you want him: eyeball to halyard sheave, looking for problems. He’s a veteran rigger with a keen eye and a background in ocean racing on the competitive Maxi circuit. On the island of Lanzarote, where I first encountered Strickett, he has a reputation for detail.

We were on the dock at Marina Lanzarote in a fresh breeze of about 20 knots. It was sunny and warm, the sort of weather you’d expect when you’re about 400 nautical miles off the coast of Morocco. These Canary Islands, of which Lanzarote is the farthest north, are a staging area for boats embarking on a trans-Atlantic crossing.

Strickett had just been lowered to the deck of a Bavaria 41 by the boat’s skipper after checking the spreaders, and was now shaking his head. Problems. There are always problems. This time it was mismatched metals. “It’s rare to find a boat that has nothing wrong with it,” he said.

Never mind the Atlantic—the first leg of the trip from the United Kingdom and Europe to the Canaries can be brutal on gear. And that’s before the 3,800-nautical-mile downwind crossing to the Caribbean. It’s wise to have a guy like Strickett check your rig before you leave. “I’ve been doing this for a few years now,” he said. “I might see a problem that the owner missed. They weren’t looking for it, or weren’t looking where they should have been. 

“You never know what’s going to happen on boats. Even on new boats,” he continued. “A friend of mine had a new catamaran, a big one, with a carbon-fiber mast. One of the genoa clutches ripped right off the mast. Brand new boat, right from the factory. We had to get the OK from the factory in France to make a repair. We fixed it, and he crossed the Atlantic.” 

Minor rig problems compound quickly under pressure. Strong winds funneling through these volcanic islands can mimic trade-wind sailing, but that doesn’t mean that every boat is ready for the crossing. According to Strickett, safety lies in the details, and he points out where to look for potential problems in your rig. Here’s what Strickett is looking for as he inspects a spar, from top to bottom.

Masthead: “Be sure the sheave axles are secure. Sometimes the holes elongate or even crack. And then halyards can get mixed up. One boat that came through here from Tenerife was using the wrong halyard. They were using the spinnaker halyard instead of the genoa halyard. When I went up to look at it, the sheave box was completely gone; the rivets were all loose. The holes had elongated because the halyard was at the wrong angle. They didn’t even realize it. It’s tough to see what’s happening aloft when you’re on deck.” 

Working down the mast on a fractional rig, there might be additional sheave boxes fitted for internal halyards. “Make sure all the rivets are tight. Anything fitted with bolts or rivets should be double-checked.”

Spreaders: “Inspect the spreader tips; make sure they’re OK and there’s no corrosion. Whenever you get stainless steel and aluminum together, there’s corrosion. One fleet of charter boats here had put 8 mm stainless bolts into the aluminum spreaders with no protection. Now the spreaders are corroding—the holes get bigger and bigger. But not only that, the spreader was already weakened by putting big holes in it to begin with.”

Shrouds: Broken or damaged wire rigging is the most common problem. “Most cruising boats use 1-by-19 stainless wire. Inside, one strand can let go, then another. When you get up to four broken strands, the wire gets weaker and weaker, and eventually fails. If you’re underway and that happens, then you have a big problem.”

You also don’t want extra weight aloft. “Some people use Dyform, or compacted wire, which uses triangular-shaped strands around a core. If you compare a 10 mm Dyform wire to a 10 mm 1-by-19 wire, the Dyform is stronger. I once changed a 12 mm 1-by-19 wire to a 10 mm Dyform wire. It’s the same strength, but I saved some weight aloft. 

“You can’t take anything for granted,” he continued. “There was a boat getting ready to head to the Mediterranean from here, which is a long slog to windward. He was all ready to go. Just as an afterthought, the owner had me look over the rig. Good thing. I found some broken wires in the forestay. The whole mast could have come down. So have a close inspection just to make sure there are no broken wires, and that the terminals don’t have any cracks in them.”

Boom: “Once again, closely inspect the rivets. Loose padeyes on the boom get looser and can easily rip right out. The same goes for the gooseneck fittings. Check every bolt, every rivet for the slightest elongation of the holes or any loose rivets. I can’t emphasize that enough. The padeye is usually secured to the boom with 5 mm Monel rivets, but those can pull loose after a sharp pull like a jibe. They can get yanked right out of the boom. Then what? As insurance, I usually remove the 5 mm rivets and replace them with 6.3 mm rivets, which are the largest you can use. If you’ve had a big jibe and the boom hits a V1 (lower shroud), it might break or bend the boom. We fix booms at our engineering shop. They’ll straighten it, put a patch on, weld it and then paint it. That makes it strong enough. New booms delivered to Lanzarote come from France, and the delivery fee alone can cost up to $3,500.”

Read More: Check your Boat’s Rig

Turnbuckles: “Some people don’t like to tape turnbuckles; they like to see what’s going on with them. Fair enough. I wouldn’t tape it all the way closed though. Just a little tape around the split pins so that they don’t grab a sail or your ankle. On one boat that I inspected, the guy had taped up the whole thing. When we untaped it, it was all manky, which means pretty disgusting. The dirt will always get in somehow. If it’s all taped up like that, you can’t oil or lubricate it. I tell people: Now and then, service your turnbuckles. Take some turns off the turnbuckle. Make sure it’s clean and then put a little Teflon gel on it, or some MolyKote grease. Then tighten it back up. 

“When you haven’t done it for some years,” he added, “they seize up and you can’t undo them. Especially a small turnbuckle. They’re chrome-plated over bronze, and when you put a big spanner in there and turn it, it’ll snap. And what you don’t want is for a wire to snap when it’s under load. It’s just preventive maintenance. Do it every six months. It takes only a couple of hours.”  

Headsail Furlers: “On some ProFurl furlers, there are four black bolts that go into the furler: two that hold the cage on and two that hold the plate. On the older ones, the bolts are made of titanium, and they seize into the aluminum. I don’t know how many I have had to drill out. But you have to drill them out properly. If it’s a 6 mm bolt, first you drill straight down the middle of the hole with a 3 mm drill, then with a 4 mm, then a 5 mm, then a 5.5 mm. Hopefully it will come out with the heat and friction. ‘Easy-out’ [screw extractors] don’t work. These things are seized together. Even heat doesn’t work.”

Chain Plates: “I inspected one boat with the chain plates so loose, they were actually moving. You could see where they had scratched the paint around the hull. Down below, look carefully at the chain plates. Make sure there’s no cracking in the hull, no movement on the bolts. You can see where a bolt has bent a little, or if it’s been pulled up or down. You’ll see little scratch marks on the hull or the bulkhead.”

Mast Step: “There’s a fine balance between the shrouds being too tight and too loose. There was a good-size catamaran that left here and got into some rough seas, rolling around. The shrouds were too loose, and on one roll, the mast jumped right out of its mast step. It was just for a moment, but in that moment, the mast went overboard.”

With the inspection on the Bavaria completed, as we walked up the gangway toward the marina office, I had one last question: “If something breaks underway, can a rigger or a boatyard be held responsible?” 

Strickett answered, “Sometimes. We have a basic form that says something like: ‘Rig checked. All found to be in good condition at the time of inspection.’ And I sign it. So as far as I’m concerned, everything was OK when I signed it. But if along the way, say it blows up to 40 knots and the crew still has their spinnaker up and the mast comes down, well, they might try to come back to us. So in my opinion, it boils down to this: If you’re not up to sailing the boat, then you shouldn’t be there. You just never know what’s going to happen.”  

David Bond, a regular contributor to CW, is a writer, teacher and cruising sailor currently based in Germany.

The post Sailboat Rigging Tips from a Pro appeared first on Cruising World.

There is a general rule of thumb that standing rigging lasts 10 years. In reality this is a guide more than a rule. Knowing what degrades rigging components can help you safely carry it beyond, or recognize when it comes up short. What’s truly important is seeing and resolving a fault before it causes a bad day on the water.

Knowing the state of a boat’s rigging might follow a progression something like this: first, the surveyor’s examination before purchase. But surveyors aren’t usually riggers, so Prudent Sailor brings a pro in—whether for a new boat purchase or pre-cruise preparation for next level inspection. To be fair, no rigger’s inspection will reveal all faults. Compounding that, not all riggers are not skilled at sleuthing for them.

The rig came down on a client’s boat recently, offshore east of the Bahamas. They rigging wasn’t that old, and had a year-old pro inspection. The cause was easily identified in the aftermath; a component aged past useful life. It would be easy to blame the rigger, but back to the earlier point—it’s a lot to expect that any single inspection can identify all flaws. Every sailor becomes the de factor rigger aboard their boat.

Jamie’s often found with a loupe in his hand checking out rigging. He estimates about 100 rig inspections in the last half dozen years. Not a huge number, but enough to see themes to problems that frequent cruising boats. They boil down to four root causes. So take his list below, get an inexpensive loupe (like this one – $13.95! – which hangs neatly from a finger when aloft), and get to looking.

Alignment

Spreaders are engineered to withstand compression force. Wire, turnbuckles, tangs, etc. resist being pulled apart—tension force. You already know the different force directions.

As a de facto rigger, you understand that when a component is pulled in a way it’s not engineered for, it’s going to break. A common example of misalignment is a bad swage. Manifest with a curved shape, it gets called a banana swage. This causes the wire strands to be unequally loaded and the top of the swage to be point loaded.

Another example is a chainplate not aligned to the attached stay, creating a host of problems! The chainplate may flex and work harden. The clevis pin point loads, and the toggle carries tension (good) and torsion that slowly pull it apart.

Articulation

Rigging consists of a mix of materials with properties chosen to withstand very dynamic loads. Mostly we’re talking about stainless steel and aluminum alloy parts joined together by tangs, toggles, swages, etc. More important than the technical names, though, is understanding how they link to suit their dynamic movements. Picture sailing downwind with sails eased out. Mainsheet is attached to a tang on the bottom of the boom. The mainsail’s pushing the top of the boom forward. The mainsheet resists, pulling the bottom of the boom aft. The gooseneck is forcibly rotated (torsion) though it’s only designed for up/down and side-to-side movements. De facto rigger regularly checks the gooseneck for excess play.

Another example is the cransiron (good trivia word!), which is the headstay tang at the end of a traditional bow sprit. This fitting is made for tension aligned to the wire. Hoist the headsail, sheet it in and watch the headstay sag to leeward… sideloading the cransiron. We met a cruiser in Panama who learned of this the hard way, with mast over the side.

Economy Vs Engineering

A manufacturer’s choices to save money may not be obvious with shiny new rigging. Give it time and the right ingredients and flaws in the material properties may emerge. A good example is anything stainless steel, or bronze fixed to an aluminum mast/boom. Add a splash of salt and galvanically inferior aluminum will sacrifice itself to the stainless steel in the same way a zinc anode crumbles when protecting a propeller. Now add a trickle of stray electricity and the normally slow process gets very active. Aluminum degradation is manifested by bubbling mast paint and whitish/gray color around the fitting. This corrosion will eat through a mast wall!

Another cheap-out is chainplates made thinner then engineering calculations indicated. To account for this, large washers are welded at the clevis hole to beef up the plate thickness. But that sets up a new problem: now you have three plates which must stay securely welded together under the constant attack of salt, water, and abrasion. De facto rigger keeps vigilant, knowing it’s smaller details like this that create problems.

Degraded Metal

Rigging components are engineered with a safety factor to account for wear and tear. This assumes predictable rates of wear. Clamp a flag halyard cleat to your cap shroud, and you’ve changed the math. The flag flutters away, ever so slightly twisting the clamp. This scrapes the micro-thin oxide layer that makes stainless steel resist corrosion. Meanwhile the clamp band catches salt, which holds moisture, and dirt on the very same unprotected surface. Further, the clamp compresses the 19 wire strands, creating a disruption in the load/relax cycle.

De facto rigger keeps that 10X loupe handy to inspect these areas. Better yet, they ditch the clamp cleat entirely!

Genoa sheets rubbing against shrouds all contribute to a fast rate of material degradation. De facto rigger loosens the sheets to reduce abrasion on the metal, then inspects. Look for localized pitting and discoloration that indicate compromised metal. How compromised? That’s a hard judgement and maybe time the call in the pro. If you cannot visibly see the metal you cannot inspect it.

Chainplates may be shiny above deck level, but a surface deprived of oxygen that stainless must have, in a wet salty environment will degrade the metal in time. But the signs are there, and if de facto rigger looks, can see those signs before a serious failure occurs.

Aboard Totem

I’m grateful for diligent checks by our de facto rigger, Jamie, and have learned so much along the way from our dock walks spotting issues on other boats and having him hand me the loupe to understand what he’s seeing beneath the lens. We preventatively re-rigged before taking off in 2007; we did it again in 2019. The only portion of our rig that didn’t pass inspection was the backstay, but rather than replacing the wire my Prudent Sailor opted to make a full replacement. Even if we didn’t SEE it, the potential was real enough and our plans for heading out across the South Pacific made it the right thing to do!

And now here we sit, back at the dock in Santa Rosalia; wings clipped by our engine issues. Trust me, it’s made tomorrow’s TOTEM TALKS a touch poignant for this crew. We’re laying low, for the most part. Jamie and I have been busy with seminars and event planning (see below) and the down time is a great opportunity to expand work with our coaching family. While we’re not out and about much, making time for fun is important, and we alternate game nights with family movie nights. Anyone have a good SciFi series to recommend?

Upcoming Events

Interview with a cruiser: on Wednesday, Feb. 3 we’re taking part in the Wooden Boat Festival’s winter program, ASK AN EXPERT. Program director Barb Trailer will ask burning questions, and we look forward to answering any others posed by participants! Register here for our event, or the series.

Rigging Fundamentals (Feb. 18): Interest piqued by this post? Consider it a preview of his rigging for cruisers session as part of Salty Dawg Sailing’s winter seminar series! Register on Salty Dawg Sailing! Coaching clients get a discount.

HEAD UP webinar series for women: kicking off Feb. 22nd, Captain Teresa Carey offers an interactive webinar series and guest instructors – designed especially for women. Her goal is to boost confidence in the fundamental aspects of sailing and cruising. I’m leading the penultimate session on March 15: watchstanding. Learn more at MorseAlpha.com/webinars.

We’ll be also be presenting on Feb 11 with Ocean Cruising Club members, and on March 16 with Coho Hoho Rally Runners – free to members, two organizations we are proud to support.

The post Sailing Totem: Check Your Boat’s Rig appeared first on Cruising World.

During my 75 years of sailing, I’ve become aware of the chasm between cruisers and racers. But I’ve never understood it because I have always been both. Even when I cruise, I’m racing—against changing weather, the need to get home in time for dinner, whatever. What that really means is that I’m determined to get the most speed out of my boat at all times. And to do so means having excellent running-rigging systems.

There are three issues in play when deciding on whether to install or upgrade your running rigging. First, do you want to increase your ease and convenience when adjusting sail trim? Second, are you willing to add lengths of line (as well as lengths of time) to make sail-trim adjustments? And last, how much investment are you willing to make to reach your sail-handling (i.e., running-rigging) goals?

I can scratch only the surface of this complicated topic and not present a ­comprehensive guide to all systems and conditions. Hopefully I’ll encourage you to think of how you might be able to improve your systems to make your sailing better and more satisfying.

Let’s begin by looking at sail-trim adjustments, which encompasses many items: sail curve (or draft, also called cord), luff tension, foot tension, sail twist from head to foot, and attack angle (the angle of wind as it approaches the sail’s leading edge, or luff).

On racing boats, all of the power required to make these adjustments is enhanced with more-powerful winches, larger crews, expensive low-friction blocks, and extremely strong and flexible lines. All of the running-rigging systems on racing boats are also appropriate for cruising boats, but cost often plays a deciding factor when making hardware and arrangement choices.

Increasing the power of running-rigging systems will always cost more, but it will also result in ease of handling and efficiency of controlling mainsail and headsail trim. Let’s move on, focusing first on the main.

Main Outhaul

Mainsail draft (depth of the sail’s curve) is controlled primarily by the outhaul but also may be supplemented by halyard tension and mast bend. So, let’s concentrate on the outhaul if for no other reason than its ease of use, as long as it is easily adjustable and also conveniently reachable. Unfortunately, most outhauls that I see on cruising boats are not adjustable and are usually a bundle of knots, difficult to reach when under sail, and almost impossible to untie without a marlinspike or fid. So let’s fix this first.

The mainsail outhaul on my Cape Dory 28 Nikki’s boom end is a 2-to-1 tackle with its hauling end attached to another 2-to-1 tackle, also called a cascade or Burton. In light air, when sailing to weather, the draft of the main can be flattened by taking in on the 2-to-1 part of the tackle. In strong breezes, flattening the mainsail’s draft is easily done by hauling in on the Burton only, a total power ratio of 4-to-1. Both of the outhaul tackles have their own clam cleats mounted on the side of the boom.

Mast Bend

I don’t ­recommend mast bending to most cruisers because its proper application depends largely on the boat owner’s knowledge of the nature and dimensions of the curve built into the sail by the sailmaker. In a nutshell, though, when sailing to weather, mast bend will flatten the luff of the sail. When sailing off the wind or in light air, a straight mast will increase the curve or draft of the sail for better drive.

Halyards

If your halyards are only general-purpose Dacron line (like those used for dock lines and sheets), as you tighten them, they will stretch and have little to no effect on sail shape with increased wind. Keep in mind that as windspeed increases, the draft of your sails will also increase, causing a greater heeling moment. The increased draft will also cause the sail luff to become fuller and reduce the ability to point upwind.

I really like limited-stretch and no-stretch halyards. They help reduce the sail draft near the luff from increasing when the wind builds. Limited-stretch halyards won’t stretch markedly when tightened in order to flatten the sail luffs. No-stretch or limited-stretch halyards might sound racy and will cost more, but the payoff is better performance, especially in strong winds. Good halyards are an easy fix that pay big dividends.

Cunninghams and Downhauls

Cunninghams and downhauls are essentially the same thing: Their function is to provide tension adjustment to the lower portion of the luff of a sail. A Cunningham, however, is more associated with the mainsail; downhauls are ­generally used with a headsail or staysail.

The purpose of Cunninghams and downhauls is to provide a rapid and convenient method of changing and distributing the tightness of a sail luff from tack to head, primarily on sails whose luff is in a mast slot, aluminum furling extrusion or attached to a stay with piston hanks; all of which cause friction that resists the luff from equalizing its load along its length. Since the halyard pulls upward from the top and the Cunningham pulls downward from slightly above the tack, the load in both directions equalizes the tension of the sail’s luff.

When you hoist a ­mainsail, there will often be about twice the tension on the luff above the spreaders than between the spreaders and the gooseneck. The load on the Cunningham is used to increase the lower luff tension. So, instead of cranking the halyard so tight that the winch is nearly torn off the mast or cabin top, raise the sail only until you begin to feel the luff load up, then tighten up the Cunningham until it feels about the same as the halyard. That’s the way your mainsail was designed and made, with about equal tension along the full length of the luff.

The cordage used as a downhaul or tack attachment for staysails and headsails, ­including those with roller-­furling systems, should be set up as tackles that are adjustable under sail. The cord should be long enough to set up a 4-to-1 tackle, and cleated or tied so that rapid luff tension can be adjusted ­without a hassle, whether slacking off in light air or tightening in a heavier breeze.

Gaining Mechanical Advantage

When I bought my schooner, At Last, back in the mid-’70s, she had lots of line and blocks but not a single winch. I think that most of her previous sailing had been done by a crew of six or a smaller crew made up of 300-pound gorillas. At that time, I weighed only 135 pounds, and my partner, Katy, was about 15 pounds lighter. Neither of us were what you would call “husky.”

Sailing At Last in light air was not difficult, but when it blew over 8 knots, every evolution became quite physical. We learned the first rule of manpower pretty quickly: The more line we pulled to achieve any sail adjustment (main or foresail sheet trimming, gaff hoisting, etc.), the more power was developed and less personal exertion was required.

Yes, eventually we did install sheet winches for each of the headsail sheets, but not for the main or foresail halyards or sheets, outhauls, vangs or topping lifts. For those, we added blocks and line to each system. It was like multiplying our crew. Every sail-trim maneuver became markedly easier—but slower. So, if we at least doubled the line length by adding sheaves, we also multiplied the power by the same ratio (not deducting for friction) and reduced the ­hauling load by the same ratio.

The rule of tackles is straightforward: The number of moving parts equals the mechanical advantage (power ratio). Google “block and tackle mechanical advantages,” and you will find excellent graphic diagrams with their power ratios.

Leading Systems to the Cockpit

More and more boat owners want every sail-control line led to the cockpit. This invariably requires at least three additional blocks or sheaves to be added to most ­running-­rigging systems, thus increasing friction as well as adding lots of line (I call it “spaghetti”) in or near the cockpit. In the case of reefing, leading all lines to the cockpit actually makes most reefing much more ­difficult and inefficient.

In 2009, my 28-foot Nikki won the Florida West Coast Boat of the Year award in a long series of races over several months’ time. Most wins occurred in extremely high winds because we had practiced reefing in under 45 seconds. That had become possible largely because of deftly efficient tackles, all kept within a single person’s reach. Only the main sheet went to the cockpit and was usually handled by the helmsman.

Mainsheets and Travelers

Thirty years ago, virtually all mainsheets were attached to the aft end of the boom and to a multisheave block on a short and mostly inefficient traveler at the stern of the boat. Because of the position of the traveler, its angle of effectiveness was fairly narrow, so when far off the wind (beam and broad reaches and running), the amount of downforce on the boom became little to ­negligible, rendering the traveler useless.

A double-legged ­mainsheet never accomplished its intended goal of acting like a traveler. Such a mainsheet always vectors the load to the longitudinal center of the boat on all points of sail regardless how far apart the lower blocks are spread. It was the racers who came up with the idea of moving the mainsheet to the approximate middle of the boom and down to a longer track and adjustable car (the traveler), usually just forward of the main companionway hatch on the cabin top. With this arrangement, the mainsheet becomes the major controller of both boom angle as well as mainsail twist by its increased downforce on the boom and sail.

The traveler car should be controlled by a port and starboard tackle of at least 3-to-1 advantage for boats up to 24 feet, 4-to-1 for boats up to 30 feet, and 5- to 6-to-1 for boats up to 34 feet and beyond. I also recommend the use of cam or clam cleats for all traveler control lines.

Boom Vang

Racing sailors also came up with the idea of a boom vang attached to the forward portion of the boom at the upper end, and to a bale at the base of the mast at the lower end. This is what you usually see on most sailboats today. That simple arrangement was a giant leap forward in the area of mainsail-twist control. But almost indiscernible additional improvement seemed to occur. Nowadays, most boom vangs aren’t all that efficient and ought to be brought into this century.

The first improvement should be to pull downward on the boom vang line in order to pull down the boom. However, I rarely see a vang rigged this way, which means it loses about half of its power ­advantage. Most vangs I see are pulled upward or aft to ­exert a download on the boom, thus losing more power.

A really practical boom vang should have at least a snap shackle on the lower block so it can be quickly detached from the mast base and moved to a car on the genoa track or a hole in a perforated aluminum toe rail. This will allow the boom vang to exert much more of a vertical download. The more vertical the vang, the more downforce on the boom. Another benefit to the detachable boom vang is that the lower block can be brought forward of the mast and attached to a stout deck-pad eye or perforated toe rail so the boom vang can also act as a preventer when sailing downwind.

Doubling the power of the boom vang can be accomplished simply and easily with a small investment by adding a 2-by-1 cascade (also, again, called a Burton), which is a single 7-by-7-foot or 7-by-37-foot stainless cable run though a wire block on the boom with one end shackled to the vang bale at the mast base. The other end of the wire is fashioned with an eye to which the upper end of the vang tackle is attached. So if your vang tackle is 5-to-1 and the cascade is 2-to-1, your vang will become 10-to-1. Then by moving the lower end of the vang from the mast to the toe-rail eye, a dedicated deck-pad eye or a genoa-track car, you have doubled it again, all for about $40.

The vang that I have ­described is most efficient when sailing long distances without jibing or tacking, but if you’re simply afternoon daysailing around the bay, the vang would be more conveniently left attached to the bale at the mast base.

I have never seen a rigid boom vang that was routinely adjusted while under sail; they’re really only a boom ­support system while under power or tied up to a dock.

Main Boom Topping Lift

I put the topping lift in the same underused category with the main outhaul; too often it’s a bundle of knots at the end of the boom that have not been adjusted or adjustable in decades.

A proper topping lift is meant to raise and store the boom off the Bimini when not in use. When under sail, however, its purpose is to adjust the weight of the boom so it changes the sail twist in various wind conditions and points of sail. It works in the opposite direction of a boom vang; it pulls the boom upward while the vang pulls downward. Upward increases sail twist, and downward reduces it.

A topping lift should also be used to take the weight of the boom off the mains’l leech when putting in a reef, then tightened again while shaking out the reef. The topping lift should be adjustable on any point of sail, which translates into “reachable.” Also, lifting your outboard from your ­dinghy becomes a simple matter by using your boom vang tackle attached to the end of the boom, and “topping” the boom with the topping lift so the outboard can clear the aft pulpit and lifelines.

Backstay Adjusters

These are used to apply tension to the backstay, which is transferred to the headstay for the purpose of flattening the luff of the headsail…or slacking the backstay, thus also easing the headstay to add more draft to the jib or genoa, as would be desirable when off the wind. When closehauled and/or sailing in a stiff breeze, a flattened headsail is preferred to lessen the boat’s heeling moment and to allow the boat to point up a little closer to the wind. With a backstay adjuster, this can be done in a few seconds with an adequate tackle arrangement.

Adjusting a headstay is usually impossible while under sail with the headsail sheeted in tightly. There are special turnbuckles and hydraulic backstay adjusters that can be used while under sail, but they are not as rapid as the appropriate backstay tackle systems. When tightening the backstay, the mast is also slightly bent to help flatten the draft and remove the “cup” from the luff of the mainsail at the same time as the headsail. So double benefits are derived from one simple adjustment.

Summing Up

Making your boat perform better does not have to be, nor should it be, a lot of work. In reality, effective running-rigging systems will make sailing a lot less strenuous, as well as more enjoyable and rewarding. Your boat will look better and perform better, and teach you a lot about getting the most out of the wind while adding joy to your afternoons under the clouds.

Don’t avoid the possibilities. Embrace them.

Boat designer, builder, writer, illustrator and longtime CW contributor Bruce Bingham lives aboard his Cape Dory 28, Nikki, on Florida’s Gulf coast.

The post Running Rigging for Cruising Sailors appeared first on Cruising World.

Major mast failures usually begin as minor hardware problems. At least that’s what scrap-bin forensics seems to confirm. So, instead of dreading a dismasting, prevent it with a sensible approach to rig maintenance.

Some sailors inspect their masts and rigging with the spar stepped, but most recognize how much will remain unseen. Riggers recommend that the mast come out every few years and be placed on a pair of sturdy sawhorses ready for close-up scrutiny. My DIY approach focuses on hardware junctions and points where load paths intersect. Packed in my rigger’s bag are the usual hand tools, plus a Scotch pad, a quality magnifying glass and a small digital camera to record the findings. The old rule of thumb is that standing rigging has a decade’s, or one circumnavigation’s, worth of reliability; it’s a benchmark that remains valid today.

Another important issue is the rigging’s designed safety factor, or how much stronger the components are than they need be. The catch here is material deterioration over time, and the fact that there’s a direct correlation between stronger structures and increased reliability. For example, by increasing 1-by-19 shrouds and their attendant hardware from 5/16 inch to 3/8 inch, the higher safe working load translates into a longer life span. It’s a legit assumption, but doing so is both costlier and adds weight aloft, which can rob performance. The same tenets apply for a larger-diameter spar section and greater wall thickness. Engineers and naval architects try to balance these competing factors.

Some decades ago, I watched the deck-stepped spar of my first little cruising sloop drop into the drink. It drove home the fact that it really is the little things that count. In that case, it was a stainless- steel toggle, connected to an upper shroud turnbuckle, which had endured a few too many on-off load cycles. A tiny, nearly invisible crack had opened up, and salt spray had found a new home. The resulting corrosion tipped the scale and led to a dramatic failure. Since then, rig scrutiny has become my obsession.

Wire and rod end fittings need a close look, especially in areas where there are brown stains and signs of cracks, pitting or other surface deterioration. This includes an evaluation of clevis-pin holes that should be circular, not elongated. Confer the same level of scrutiny to the clevis pins themselves. Don’t confuse stainless-steel clevis pins with chrome-plated bronze pins. The latter are just fine when used in bronze fittings, but when a bronze clevis pin is placed in a stainless-steel chainplate hole, the bronze pin can be carved away by the much harder stainless-steel chainplate.

My inspection process includes a rigging-wire wipe-down with a rag that easily snags on tiny cracks. It includes careful scrutiny of hardware junctions. I search for signs of chafe, especially where fiber or wire running rigging makes directional changes at sheave boxes, and around where the headsail furler’s top swivel rides. Looking closely at masthead exit points, I check for sheave wobble, excess side play and signs of pulley damage.

This is also the time to sort out halyards that are rubbing against external or internal obstructions. I use a bright, narrow-beam LED flashlight for a good visual inspection of the internal portion of the mast. Not only will it pinpoint screws and sheave boxes that might be causing chafe, but it also will help you untangle crossed halyards and confirm fairleads. While working at the heel end of the spar, look closely for corrosion and a condition riggers call “elephant foot.” It’s an actual wrinkling of the alloy tube section caused by too much compression and a too-thin wall section. It’s most often seen on raceboats with powerful hydraulic mast-adjusting systems, and on cruising boats that have pounded into too many steep wave faces.

Roller furling foils hide the wire or rod on which they spin. Rigging end fittings and terminals can usually be inspected, but a broken strand of wire inside the foil might initially go unnoticed, at least for a little while. This is another reason why offshore cruisers opt for a cutter or solent rig that adds a second stay for some extra ­insurance. Following the once-a-­decade rule, it makes sense to completely disassemble furling systems, and replace the wire along with any worn bearings, bushings or plastic spacers.

Keep in mind that when the mast is unstepped, many roller furling drums and head foils (especially on boats with deck-stepped rigs) extend beyond the heel of the spar. If the yard doesn’t splint and immobilize the extended foil and drum, do it yourself. All it entails is a couple of 2-by-4’s, or a pair of old oars lashed or duct-taped to the mast just above the heel. This double splint should extend to the base of the roller-furling drum where it too is lashed or taped. It keeps the drum from dangling and bending the foil during transport, and while the rig is stored on a mast rack.

Spreaders also deserve a really close look. All too often, excess anti-chafe protection results in the spreader tips becoming a water trap that turns into a hidden corrosion bath. So, when the rig is down, cut away the spreader-tip padding, and use white vinegar and a plastic scrub pad to get rid of any white powdery oxidation. Remove the spreaders from the spar, and inspect the area where spreader bases make contact with the mast. Look for compression damage to the mast wall and signs of corrosion damage. If all is well, reassemble using one of the tried-and-proven water-resistant lubricants. I’ve settled on Lanocote, McLube Sailkote and Super Lube, using Boeshield T-9 and WD-40 as my go-to spray protectant and penetrant. Throw away the old cotter pins, and use new pins on all of the reassembled rigging.

“She’ll be right, mate,” was the favorite phrase of an old Kiwi friend, but it isn’t good advice when it comes to keeping the rig where it belongs. Don’t shy away from calling in a qualified rigger to handle larger problems.

Most boatyards will restep spars but won’t tune the rig. Their goal is to set up the mast and rigging to approximate how it arrived. Occasionally, they hit the mark and even replace the mast wedges appropriately. Otherwise, I wait for a flat calm to make sure that the boat has no list. This involves using a tape measure to confirm the athwartship trim (waterline to rail-height port equals waterline to rail-height starboard). Then I check the perpendicular and rake of the mast using the main halyard with a makeshift plumb bob (dive weight) attached. The retune requires loosening the turnbuckles and incrementally retensioning the rigging. Small amounts of headstay and backstay adjustment relocates the masthead, causing the makeshift plumb bob to move significantly. I use prior measurements from previous mast-tuning successes to set the rake to a sweet spot that, in the past, delivered a minimal amount of weather helm.

With the rake set, I insert a set of teak or high-density hard-rubber wedges between the mast and the mast partners. These wedge-shaped spacers have a top flange that prevents them from falling into the bilge when the mast compresses on one side of the partners and opens the gap wider on the other. With all the wedges set, I incrementally add tension to the rig, tightening headstay and backstay first, while carefully maintaining the rake angle. Next, I adjust the upper shroud (or V1), working from side to side to keep the mast perpendicular. Finally, I snug up (but not overtension) the lower and intermediate shrouds. This static tuning sets the stage for an underway final tune, during which I check how well the spar remains in column. Leeward bends and S-curves are problematic and must be minimized. Boats with discontinuous rigging have shrouds that are not one continuous wire run. They utilize turnbuckles located above spreaders that must be individually adjusted to eliminate side bend.

Intentional fore and aft mast bending can influence sail shape, and is put to good use aboard raceboats. Adding such complication to most cruising boats, which are ­normally steered by an autopilot, makes less sense. In-mast furling spars are least happy with powerful hydraulic backstays bowing the mast. So, get sound advice from a rigger/mast builder before adding hydraulic sail-shaping gear.

A sea trial should follow your static mast tune. And as you beat to windward in a modest 10- to 15-knot true breeze, check the leeward standing rigging. Make sure it’s not overly slack and flopping around like loose spaghetti. If so, add more shroud tension to both sides. A tension-testing gauge will work, but many sailors do fine estimating by hand. Cruising-boat rigs shouldn’t have the same amount of rig tension as a raceboat ­beating to windward. However, if your sailboat’s mast is deck-stepped, make sure the coachroof isn’t deforming due to the compression load. A compression post, ring frame or other rigid structure should be spreading such loads. If you’re unsure of the correct rig tune, arrange a session with a rigger or sailmaker—and start the season in optimized trim.

Technical expert Ralph Naranjo has inspected the rig on his Ericson 41, Wind Shadow, on countless occasions.

The post How to Inspect and Tune a Sailboat Rig appeared first on Cruising World.

There are three situations where I greatly appreciate my old-fashioned ketch rig on our present boat, Ganesh: under sail, under power and while anchored. Truth be told, for the entire 23 years that I owned my sloop-rigged S&S-designed Wild Card, I had mizzen envy. Sad!

What, in layman’s terms, is a ketch? Basically, it is a sloop with slightly smaller main and jib set slightly more forward on a main mast, with a mizzen sail aft that’s carried on a second spar. Thus, the ketch has roughly the same sail area spread over a longer span and in smaller chunks. What’s the difference between a ketch and a yawl? The ketch has a comparatively larger mizzen than the yawl, and the ketch’s mizzen mast is set forward of where the rudder post bisects the waterline rather than aft of it.

What good is a mizzen mast at anchor? Plenty good! One, it can hold cool stuff such as nav lights, aft-deck spreader lights, anchor light, radar dome, PA speakers, wind generator, exterior stereo speakers and a radar reflector. It also serves as a small hoisting crane aft. We can haul up our 9.8 hp Tohatsu outboard using our mizzen boom—though some boats require a boom extension (think sliding pole inside) to do so easily. Some skippers clap a block and tackle on the mizzen if they need to hoist an injured crewmember back aboard.

Anything else? Sure! With the mizzen sail hoisted, it can passively dampen the roll in two ways: through air resistance and by changing the vessel’s angle to the swell. Will the mizzen eliminate anchorage roll? No, but at times it can make a considerable difference by knocking the boat off its natural roll period, with dramatic effect.

Just recently, we were anchored in a windy harbor in Indonesia, with a building breeze and an increasing swell working its way around the point. In the early morning we were fine, but by midday, we were uncomfortable moving around below. My first move was to hoist our fully battened mizzen with decent halyard and outhaul tension, then sheet it home hard. (It is intentionally cut flat.) Next, I added two preventers to the boom ends to immobilize it.

RELATED: On Watch: Clearing In

This made a noticeable difference, and I forgot about the roll until later that afternoon when the wind was really piping up and the sea had built accordingly. My next move was to run a line forward from the mizzen boom end to the bow, and crank the mizzen boom to the side I wanted the boat to turn. This further steadied the vessel in two ways. First, it made the bow turn more into the swell, which reduced the roll. Second, it put a constant additional wind pressure into the mix. Both helped steady the boat.

Of course, if the wind had built further, I’d have deployed my twin flopper-stoppers from my two downwind pole ends. But in this case, just the mizzen was ample enough to dampen the roll into an OK-we-can-live-with-it zone.

Some people think of the mizzen mast as an obstruction. I think of it as something to hold on to, clip on to, and brace against. I even like the mizzen shrouds—one last chance to catch a handhold before the deep blue sea.

In many instances, I think of my mizzen sail as an air rudder. Simply by sheeting it in and easing it out, I can change the center of effort of the sails in relationship to the hull’s center of lateral resistance. That’s something a sloop cannot do as readily.

If I need to drift straight backward from a mooring, I hoist the full mizzen and full staysail, and put crew on both to pull and push as I steer backward. It is amazing how far I can get astern before my bow pays off in a consistent moderate breeze.

When sailing off the hook with the mizzen, I can always be sure of which tack I will pay off on. If this isn’t too important, I just turn the helm and push the mizzen boom to the desired side. If it is important, I pre-rig and pre-cant the vessel by running a line forward from the mizzen boom end through the bow hawsehole and adjust the sail accordingly.

I’ve seen schooners in Maine reverse under sail quite a way. But the very best at this was Garry Hoyt on his Freedom 40 cat ketch. Why, he could back up that “ting, mon” like a car, during Antigua Sailing Week.

I’m now 68 years old, and I must admit, my heavy mainsail is beginning to intimidate me. As a result, my wife, Carolyn, and I seldom fly it. If broad- reaching, we toss up our nylon mizzen staysail instead. It is almost the same size, and is a snap to hoist and douse in comparison to the main.

While I don’t usually carry my mizzen staysail dead downwind because of the efficiency of my twin downwind trade-wind jibs, I do occasionally carry it on a beam reach.

The thing I like best about a ketch is being able to, in heavy air, just get rid of the mainsail, and still sail well under mizzen and staysail, with the ability to tack smartly even in a lull. Yes, we can round down and jibe as well, but this takes considerably more sea room.

But if I’m sailing into a harbor or onto a mooring with Ganesh and the wind is moderate to fresh, I come in under jib and jigger (the term we used back in the day) with good control.

Of course, a mizzen takes some getting used to, especially if you’re using a windvane for steering. Most windvanes don’t like mizzens or mainsails; they want all the sails far forward for easier steering. In gusty conditions, I have to take down my mizzen while broad-reaching; if I don’t, the boat will attempt to round up.

However, on Ganesh, I’m often able to fly the mizzen while our Monitor windvane steers dead downwind in moderate conditions, perhaps because of our nearly full keel. Regardless of gusts, there is seldom a problem flying a properly sized mizzen (we have three sets of reefs), with the wind from beam-on to closehauled.

Since the mizzen is so easy to hoist and douse, we use it a lot. Its steadying force often helps the efficiency of our other sails.

Let’s be honest. As a cruiser, I’m not tweaking my vessel nearly as much as when I’m on the racecourse. In fact, while underway, over half the time I adjust my sail controls, it isn’t to go faster but to go better: with less chafe, roll and noise.

What’s the downside of a ketch? Basically, speed. Two sails of a given total square footage are more efficient than three adding up to the same size. There’s also more weight aloft and aft, both bad locations that promote hobby horsing and wallowing.

If the ketch isn’t well- designed, the mainsail will backwind the mizzen, and the only solution will be to drop the smaller sail or head lower on your course.

However, a properly designed modern ketch can be very weatherly, and develop enough extra horsepower off the wind to pay for itself.

The mizzen mast, shrouds and sails all have windage. There’s no denying that. If I was going to sail primarily upwind or in light air, I would not consider a traditional ketch. Why lug around the extra gear to little advantage?

However, as a serial circumnavigator and confirmed trade-wind sailor, all the windage of the mizzen is just additional sail area 99 percent of the time.

The real day in, day out advantage of the mizzen is that you can easily dial in your weather helm. Is the rudder fighting you in the gusts and does your vessel want to round up? If so, just ease the mizzen until the helm is almost (but not quite) neutral. It’s one string, right? Easy peasy, no?

Do you have lee helm and the boat feels like it is almost refusing to go to windward? If so, sheet in the mizzen until a faint weather helm emerges. (Test this by letting go of the wheel or tiller and watching the boat slowly round up.)

In light air, a ketch offers few advantages, and in light air to windward, even fewer still. But let the breeze pipe up and a ketch comes into its own. Smaller sails are easier to douse, furl and stow. Once the mainsail is taken care of and the jib is rolled up, the mizzen and staysail can drive our vessel through a gale with relatively little force on the mainmast, shrouds and stays.

This also means Ganesh stays more upright. No sailor likes to live on his ear for too long on passage.

Both mizzen and staysail sails are inboard and thus easy to handle in hard conditions. Our mizzen is not only fully battened, but also has lazy jacks to guide it into its stack pack, making the sail a dream to douse from a broad reach to closehauled. (However, with the battens and a large roach, the sail can be a handful if I attempt to douse it dead downwind in heavy air.)

Different mizzen masts are stayed differently. Ours has a big footprint on deck with running backstays for use in gale-force conditions. It is strong. How strong? We often heave to under mizzen alone without worry, in winds ranging from 15 to 33 knots. This isn’t as safe as heaving to with our storm trysail, but it’s a good, quick-and-dirty way to ride out a sustained squall.

Another cool thing is that we can easily remove our tabernacle-stepped mizzen spar by tilting it aft and controlling it with the higher main halyard while lowering it, all the while with the loose shrouds attached.

We even use the mizzen under power to dampen our roll because it is the quickest and easiest sail to deploy.

Of course, everything is relative. There can be too much of a good thing. I know a guy who tosses up a mizzen mast on every sloop that he buys—an installation that is trickier than it might appear. But on a well-designed sloop, a mizzen isn’t needed because of the location of the single mast, while on a ketch it is needed by design, given where the main is set.

To my mind, our mizzen mast really pays for itself aboard Ganesh, as it does on other old-fashioned, two-masted cruising tubs. In fact, I write these words on deck under an awning held up by—you guested it—my mizzen boom!

Cap’n Fatty and Carolyn Goodlander are currently cruising Southeast Asia.

The post On Watch: Mizzen Smitten appeared first on Cruising World.

Regardless of ­whether you sail a modern, ­fractional-rigged sloop or a wishbone-rigged staysail schooner, it’s the running rigging that sets, trims, reefs and furls the sails. In the bad old days, decks were full of wobbly, sheaved high-friction blocks and essentially one kind of cordage. Today, running rigging has attained full-system status, with its primary goal being friction abatement.

Various types of synthetic- fiber cordage, with specific strength, stretch and creep characteristics, run through ultraslippery blocks and fairleads. Each line is aimed at the exact spot a team of ergonomics experts determined it should go. Even the halyard hardware that attaches the line to the head of a sail has been ­computer-modeled and scrutinized with finite element analysis. Soft shackles and strops, made from Dyneema fiber rope, are showing up in high-load locations. In short, we are in the midst of a ­running-rigging revolution, and much of the new stuff offers real value to the cruising sailor.

What’s My Line?

Just as pistons and cylinders play a primary role in a diesel auxiliary, rope and blocks are the guts of every sail-handling system. A few decades ago, Dacron (polyester cordage) ruled the roost. It remains a key player, but stronger, lighter, and less-stretchy options are gaining ground. Racers have embraced Dyneema, Vectran, Torlon, Zylon and a growing list of other odd-sounding esoteric fibers. The old enemy stretch has been tamed, but the big remaining question is whether a running-rigging makeover is worth the expense. It takes a little cost-benefit analysis to answer that question.

There’s consensus among sailors, riggers and yacht ­designers that there are cost-effective crossover points, where performance and value intersect. Take, for example, a mainsail halyard upgrade. Polyester has proved to be too stretchy, but PBO (Zylon) cored rope, sometimes called liquid crystal, is way too costly. But for cruisers, a midrange medium-tech upgrade makes a lot of sense. The line of choice is often a double braid with a high-modulus Dyneema core and a conventional polyester cover. This midrange combo results in a halyard with much lower stretch and good handling characteristics, plus it retains a chafe- and ­ultraviolet-resistant cover.

Going higher-tech in fiber selection for sheets on a cruising boat might not be as desirable. This is because a good-quality double-braid polyester remains a sensible solution, at least on cruising boats under 40 or so feet. Its stretchy nature might even add a little shock-absorber effect, lessening the fatigue cycle on mast, boom and line. However, higher-modulus (less-stretchy) line is a superior halyard material, and it also makes sense for use in running backstays, topping lifts, tack and head pennants, and ­boom-vang tackles.

When choosing the right high-modulus line, make sure it’s rated for tight turns around small-radius blocks and masthead sheaves. In the early days of synthetic fibers, many ultra-low-stretch lines stiffened with time, making line handling more like wrapping a tree branch around a winch drum. Today, Samson, Yale, New England Ropes and others have tamed this problem, and offer a wide range of products that meet the needs of cruisers and racers. Do some research, talk with a local rigger, and pick the right rope for your boat and your specific sailing requirements.

Around the Blocks

Every ball- and roller-bearing block spins like a roulette wheel when there’s no load on the sheave. But when you add hundreds, even thousands, of pounds of tension to a halyard or sheet, it’s only the better-built blocks that hold friction at bay. Usually these blocks have well-engineered frames and bearing races that resist deformation under heavy loads.

Ironically, cruisers don’t need the highest-tech line, but we certainly do benefit from the best-built blocks. These not only run smoothly under load, but they also continue to do so despite the test of time.

Over the years, as ­ingested salt spray is baked into grit by the unrelenting sun, bearing abrasion becomes a big problem. Keep in mind that if you can see the ­high-molecular-weight Delrin, Torlon or other plastic bearings, so can the sun, and this means that UV degradation will become an issue.

It’s also important to recognize that choosing the smallest, lightest block for a given line size makes little sense. A better approach is to pick a one-size-larger block that’s still appropriate for the given line diameter. It will deliver a higher safe working load, and therefore, the normal load will be a smaller percentage of the SWL. Such blocks will also have a larger bearing surface and will operate with less friction. Add to this the fact that lower loading also equates to longer hardware life, and you have another good reason to opt for a size uptick.

Power to the Winches

I think that the hand-crank winch is one of sailing’s most elegant inventions. And the good news is this piece of hardware continues to evolve. New designs come packed with better bearings, improved self-tailers and multiple gear ratios, making them even better muscle-power multipliers.

Modern winches are more ergonomic, and there’s even a model that lets you trim in and ease out via opposite rotations of the winch handle. The shorthanded cruiser has more trimming tools from which to choose—even a push-button electric winch that eliminates the old question: “Where’s the winch handle?”

However, when it comes to power winching, it’s important to rethink the way you handle a sheet or halyard. With the old hand-cranking approach, arm and shoulder strength provided both torque and feedback. Unfortunately, this feedback loop is absent when using an electric winch. As the tension increases, the button doesn’t get any harder to push. Therefore, we need to look more closely at the luff and head of the sail to make sure the halyard or sheet is not being overtensioned.

In the early days of power winches, I watched the crew of a 60-foot sloop set sail with the aid of electric winches. As the mainsail was being unfurled, the furling line hung up, causing the tension on the outhaul to reach full force in the matter of a second or two. A loud bang announced the separation of the clew from the mainsail. It was an attention-grabbing demonstration of the brute force delivered by a power winch—and a costly lesson in how high-modulus, low-stretch materials endure minimal elongation prior to failure. The takeaway from this episode was that careful attention must be paid to the line being tensioned and what’s happening to the sail. Beware of dodgers and Biminis that hide the sails from view and leave the person operating a power winch without any direct visual feedback.

Clutch Plays

Some see the self-tailing winch as the ultimate answer to handling a line under load. But there are other opinions that continue to hold sway. The oldest belongs to traditionalists who swear by horn cleats, just the way Nat Herreshoff intended. It’s a functional ­approach, especially if the deck is festooned with non-self-tailing winches that remain in good working order.

But we are in a rope-clutch revolution that’s realigned deck layouts and changed the approach to line handling. These lever-operated, clamplike devices allow one winch to cope with several lines, but not all at once. With badgerlike jaws, rope clutches lock lines in place, immobilizing the line under full load. Some clutches allow a sailor to release the fully tensioned line, but lines under load behave more sedately if, prior to releasing, they are wrapped on the winch and re-tensioned prior to releasing the clutch. The line is then eased from the winch drum.

There’s a fine art to making the right rope-clutch ­commitment. The “too much of a good thing” rule once again prevails, and surrounding a winch with four or five clutched lines can cause more problems than it solves. This is especially true if two or more heavily loaded lines are involved in the same sail-­handling evolution. I’ve sailed on boats where a main halyard and mainsheet are clutched off at the same winch. The assumption is that once the sail is set, the halyard will remain locked in the clutch and the winch can be used to handle the sheet. All is copacetic up until it’s time to reef, and the mainsheet and halyard have to be handled with only one winch. Add darkness, a significant seaway and a crew just rousted from a deep sleep, and the value of an extra winch, rather than too many rope clutches, becomes very clear.

Roll It Up

Furling systems are center stage aboard modern cruising sailboats. They make sail handling easier and safer because the majority of maneuvers can take place in the cockpit.

Headstay-mounted headsail furlers adorn almost every sailboat seen at in-water boat shows. They come in two distinct generic designs. Both types are comprised of a slotted alloy extrusion that fits over the headstay. A jib or genoa is initially hoisted via a rope halyard, then torque to wind in the sail is provided by a drum affixed to the bottom end of the foil. The difference between the two systems is that one relies on a mast-mounted sheave that leads a jib halyard to a sliding swivel that rides up and down the foil. The other system, usually found on smaller boats, has a sheave assembly affixed to the top foil section and the halyard(s) is not run to the mast. Owners with the latter system often continually fight the stretchiness of the small-diameter polyester line used for the halyard. Switching to a higher-modulus (less-stretchy) line lessens the stretch and is worth the investment.

Both systems rely on a spooled line to deliver the furling and reefing torque. This “in-haul” line endures years of UV and chafe damage, but at some point, failure becomes inevitable. It’s more likely to occur when the sail is reefed and the inhaul line is under significant load. For some reason, such failures seem to occur on a dark, rainy night at about 0300. And when a reefing line parts, the deeply reefed jib becomes a full genoa flogging like a flag in the breeze. Even worse, the line to haul it in is no longer usable. That’s why it makes sense to check for chafe and grow skeptical of a furling line that has been exposed to sunlight for more than a decade.

Endless or continuous line furlers are designed to tame large drifter/reachers and nylon asymmetric spinnakers. There are bottom-up and top-down versions, and each is designated by where the sail first begins to furl. Bottom-up furlers are used for light air, lightweight genoa-like sails (codes and reaching sails). Instead of furling with a fishing-reel-like drum arrangement, these endless line furlers rely on a continuous loop. Line tension turns into torque at the disk-shaped drum that holds only a partial turn of line. The twin leads of the elongated loop can be led aft to the cockpit via multiple sets of double blocks ­mounted on lifeline stanchions.

Asymmetric spinnakers utilize a top-down furling rotation that is telegraphed from the drum to the head of the sail using a torsion line. The splices on these endless-loop furling lines should be regularly checked, and so should the points where the torsion rope enters the hardware.

Cordage—like the ­hardware that leads and locks running rigging in place—has been vastly improved, and it makes sense for sailors to tap into what it has to offer. This can be done in a full-scale makeover or in a bit-at-a-time tuneup. With the latter, start with halyards, add some new blocks, and check or replace the mast sheaves. If winches and clutches are part of the redo, make sure the deck structure can handle the load, or have some extra ­reinforcement added.

Whatever the scale of the rigging refit, keep in mind that on a cruising boat, saving ounces isn’t the issue. Our goal is to add efficiency and reliability, and that involves picking hardware and cordage with the right specs, and using them in a layout that keeps the rigging running as friction-free as possible.

Technical expert Ralph Naranjo is a veteran circumnavigator and ocean racer, and author of The Art of Seamanship.

The post Understanding Running Rigging appeared first on Cruising World.

It’s easy to assume that a sailboat’s rig will perpetually point skyward. It has a lot to do with advances in engineering, material science and design priorities adopted by today’s boatbuilders. But with this uptick in reliability comes the downside of complacency. Time, metal fatigue and corrosion are co-conspirators, and they’re why every skipper needs to know where they sail on the rigging-failure timeline.

Most riggers generalize that the lifespan of a sailboat’s standing rigging is about a decade. This doesn’t mean that in the 11th season the mast is destined to go over the side. But it does mean that the trouble-free decade is astern and the likelihood of problems are on the rise. In terms of miles at sea, rigging lifespan is often defined as one circumnavigation’s worth of torment. But there’s much more to understand about standing rigging and when it’s time for replacement.

Whether your boat is gently rolling in a quiet mooring field or bashing to windward in a gale, cycle loading wears away on the components. Yes, the higher strain cycles take a greater toll, but all of the on-off energy transfers add up. There’s also a chemical war ­being waged between dissimilar metal alloys. It’s no ­surprise that rigging hardware on freshwater-sailed boats holds up better than aboard their saltwater sisterships. As time goes by, the structural safety factor built into a rig’s design starts to erode. At some point, the designer’s safety factor heads toward the negative part of the curve – a result of too many days at sea, an excess of spar-bashing tacks and jibes, and too much salt-laden spray. Fortunately, careful rig inspection and timely hardware ­replacement can help defeat the inevitable.

Sailboat rigs are perpetually in a compression/tension tug of war. On one side is the righting moment of the vessel, a force created by the buoyancy induced by hull shape and the location of the vessel’s center of gravity. At the other end of this tussle is the heeling moment, a force created by wind pressure on the sail plan.

The rig and rigging of most monohull sailboats are designed to handle a wind-­induced, 90-degree knockdown. The load this ­imposes on the windward side’s ­rigging, spreaders, fittings and ­chainplates can be computer ­modeled. Engineers use this data to help select hardware according to the specific loads each piece must handle. The rig designer determines the max loads each piece of standing rigging is to carry, and adds a specific safety factor to the equation. If, for example, an upper shroud will be tensioned to 5,000 pounds during a knockdown, a 2-to-1 ­safety factor would result in wire with a 10,000-pound breaking strength. A greater safety factor would usually extend the lifespan of the wire, but it also adds undesirable weight aloft and additional expense to the bottom line. Doing so might make sense for a crew sailing the Roaring Forties, but it’s counterproductive for coastal cruisers planning a voyage to the Bahamas.

The Rig Inspection

In recent decades, winter storage and year-round, in-water berthing have lessened the opportunity for a full mast and rigging inspection. Add to this complications like a headstay hidden inside a roller-furling foil, and one can see why too many years go by between a thorough rig inspection. Ideally, this will happen with the spar unstepped in the boatyard on sawhorses. It’s true that, if the standing rigging has been designed with a higher safety factor, the boat has not been vigorously sailed, and home port is in the middle of a large freshwater lake, the aging process elongates and the rigging is likely to outlast an oceangoing production boat. That said, the more complex the rig and older the vessel, the more scrutiny is necessary.

With the rig removed, I begin in the boat looking over the mast step and determining how all the compression loads have been handled. In cases in which the mast step is in or just forward of the keel sump, it’s important to note how the compression load is spread transversely and longitudinally. Look for signs of crushed or cracked grids, floor frames or other support structure. Closely inspect the mast step. It should be free of corrosion and provide a means to pin the mast heel in place once the spar is stepped. Deck-stepped masts deserve the same detective work. With these rigs, the compression loads are usually shared between a compression post or bulkhead and the deck or coach roof itself. There are considerable side loads generated during beats to windward. Look for signs of fiberglass crazing or microcracking, or a change in the contour around the step. Deck-stepped masts are fine, as long as they do not overly flex and distort the structure that supports them.

The chainplates anchor the standing rigging and represent the other end of a load-bearing couplet. As with the mast step, the big concern is whether the structure remains intact or the tension has caused the laminate, wood bulkhead or metal webbing to deform. No matter how good the standing rigging happens to be, a chainplate or mast-step failure usually leads to a dismasting and major ­vessel damage.

Next comes a close look at the spar itself. I prefer a ­bottom-up approach, ­starting at the base, or the heel of the mast, and working toward the masthead. During the design and engineering of a mast and rigging, many spar builders use finite element ­analysis to model the loads that ­migrate through a rig. A ­computer graphic reveals a range of ­colors overlaid on the spar ­section, with red or magenta ­indicating where high-stress areas are located. These energy focal points are found at spreader roots, rigging ­attachment points, the mast-heel fitting, and other areas where tension, compression and bending ­moments stress the spar. These are the spots where potential problems lurk and indicators include stress cracks, surface deformation, pitting and corrosion. If you notice this type of deterioration, it’s time to have an ­experienced rigger or marine surveyor take a closer look.

A Look Aloft

Of course, not everybody pulls their rig on a regular ­basis and has the opportunity to ­inspect the mast when nestled on stands. But there’s plenty you can observe when ­sailing. During a race to Bermuda with the late Rod Stephens, the brother of Olin and one of the driving forces of Sparkman & Stephens, I learned why a cruiser at sea should do a ­daily “rigging walk around.” Rod’s morning rig check involved a slow amble forward on the windward deck ­glancing up and down to make sure ­toggles, clevis pins, and ­other bits and pieces were all in place, and none of the running ­rigging had been led incorrectly in the dark. Returning aft on the leeward side, he looked over the gooseneck fitting and glanced aloft at the spreaders, noting mast bend and the fall off to leeward that the spar had to endure.

Back in the cockpit, Rod would focus a pair of 7×50 binoculars on the masthead and work his way down to the lower spreader tips, looking for telltale signs of trouble. This is a good way for cruisers to make sure that the halyard lead to the headstay furler’s top ­swivel remains fairly led. If there’s a wrap or two around the foil, roller furling becomes difficult and foil damage will soon follow. Rod always insisted that this magnification-­aided checkup was not a substitute for going aloft in a bosun’s chair. The latter should be done prior to heading offshore or embarking on a lengthy coastal cruise. Going aloft in a ­seaway, to cope with a problem that should have been sorted out prior to departure, raises the risk factor and complicates a repair. But at times it must be done. Keep in mind that the further aloft you go, the more violent the effect of the vessel’s pitch and roll. Make sure your mast-working equipment kit includes a harness tether that holds you to the spar, as well as safe hoisting tackle.

It’s important to ­identify what riggers call “critical ­components.” In this case, it’s the rigging hardware and wire, rod or rope that plays an essential role in keeping the rig in place. Rig loss can be ­attributed to something as simple as a missing cotter pin or loose Nylock nut holding a tension rod to a ­chainplate. Critical rigging components include a ring pin ­keeping a headstay turnbuckle in place. If it gets snagged and pulled out by a genoa sheet, the ­domino effect can lead to a ­dismasting. On the ­other hand, if the same thing ­happens to the clevis pin on the rear lower shroud or an ­intermediate shroud, the rig is likely to ­remain standing. Double checking critical rigging, like the headstay, upper shrouds and backstay, is a top priority.

Many old-school ­cruisers favored a cutter rig for more than headsail versatility. They knew that with an inner forestay and a running backstay set, they had hedged their bet if it came to the loss of a headstay or backstay. It ­also lessened mast pumping and its metal fatigue implications. During long distance ­passagemaking, tacks and jibes ­become less frequent and complaints about runners and a forestay disappear.

Contemporary cruisers have a new ally in high modulus (HMPE) line, not only as an optimum choice for running rigging, but also as a stand-in when and if a wire-rigging problem arises. The norm aboard most race boats, it has the crew attaching unused headsail and spinnaker halyards to a fitting or mini-rail just ahead of the mast. But aboard a cruising boat that’s headed offshore, it makes sense to keep a HMPE spinnaker/drifter halyard tacked forward, attached to a well-­secured, anchor-roller strut or a mini bowsprit. This adds a backup safety margin, just in case the headstay gives way. The same halyard can also be moved to an amidships rail to help keep the mast up, if a spreader fails or there’s the loss of a shroud. In fact, high modulus line is a strong, lightweight standing-­rigging ­alternative that’s proven its validity aboard multihulls and many high-performance monohulls. Chafe can be an issue, so those who settle on ­fiber rigging need to make sure their sheet and guys are fair led when going through a sail change, ­especially at night.

Keeping the rig where it ­belongs requires regular ­inspections and maintenance, and the recognition that, like ­anchor chain, one weak link can spell disaster.

Technical expert Ralph Naranjo is a veteran circumnavigator and ocean racer, and the author of the The Art of Seamanship.

DIY Spar Inspection Checklist

Every few years, the rig should come out and a detailed inspection ensue. One of the reasons for such scrutiny is the chain-linklike behavior of standing rigging.

1. Check mast for corrosion especially at heel, gooseneck, spreader tips and wherever stainless steel contacts aluminum.
2. Inspect rigging hardware and note corrosion, pitting and elongation of clevis pin holes.
3. Check swage fittings, clean with plastic scrub pad, and use magnifying glass to search for swage barrel cracks, pitting and wire cracks.
4. If mechanical compression terminals have been used, look for signs of wire slippage or cracks in wire strands and terminal barrel.
5. Rub down all 1×19 wire rigging with a nylon stocking that will snag on any cracks in wire strands.
6. Check all clevis pins for wear and make sure that toggles connecting to stainless-steel chainplates have stainless-steel clevis pins, not bronze or chrome-plated pins.
7. Wire brush away corrosion on alloy spars and inspect for cracks (if corrosion is minor, acid etch, epoxy prime and paint).
8. Closely inspect top and bottom headstay fittings and roller furling system; service furler as per manufacture’s recommendations; and consider disassembly and replacing the headstay if over 10 years old.
9. Those with an in-mast furling system should follow manufacturer’s recommendation for maintenance and lubrication/replacement of bearings.
10. Visually inspect and heck mast electrical wiring for continuity; improve chafe protection.

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