Anyone that follows my blog know that I’ve missed the last three Nova Scotia Nonsuch Rendezvous Events, an annual get together dedicated to the Nonsuch sailboat and the happy people that sail them. This year was the International gathering that happens every two years alternating between the US and Canada. I wasn’t missing this one come hell or high water and we worked over a month getting Catalyst ready to attend. I wanted her to shine as much as a thirty year old boat can and she sparkled in the glint of the sun’s eye.
We left late Thursday morning assuming it would take between eight to ten hours to reach the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron. I’m not sure what I expected of the passage from Mahone Bay to Halifax, my longest excursion on the water thus far. Let’s face it, I’m rather naïve when it comes to the ways and means of sailing. All I can say is that the voyage to Halifax was quite an education and not necessarily a good one.
The passage was a gyrating and white-knuckled carnival ride. I’ve learned that a ship’s motion is divided into six components in the six degrees of freedom. Heave, yaw, roll, surge, pitch and sway and we experienced them all in rapid succession like riding a mechanical bull set on high. Not being gimbaled like the stove, I was flopped around and my stomach also rolled and heaved. It was rough going, my internal organs rearranged as we pounded around in the lumpy seas. A couple of weeks ago a program on CBC radio said a plug in one ear will quell seasickness and I improvised with rolled up toilet paper but the upset was already in motion before I inserted it in my ear canal and by then nothing could stop the outcome. I must have been a sight hanging on to the counter for dear life while retching into the galley sink with a big wad of paper hanging off the side of my head. But, as every cloud has a silver lining, it certainly came in handy to wipe my chin.
Hubby told me when he felt a bit queasy on a boat delivery to Hawaii, he went below to lie down and felt better, so I followed his advice. The nausea faded away and I drifted off to sleep, shortening the trip for me which was another silver lining. Even the rocking and pounding on swirling waves did little to jar me awake except for this one time I did rouse in time to hear hubby say, “Don’t worry, that’s what the deck wash hose is for.” I gathered someone else must have been woofing their cookies, ginger ones to be specific, that one of our guests, who must have known the ropes, brought as a seasickness preventative.
I drifted back to sleep, unconsciousness saving me from more hours of swirling seas. I must say that I didn’t relish returning home, being a cork in a whirlpool tub with jets on the highest setting is not my idea of a fun day on the water. Perhaps over time rolling seas will grow on me, at least melt away the constant fear of our boat breaking apart and tossing us all into an angry sea. Perhaps with experience, I’ll develop a saltier disposition and a titanium stomach to match. When starting at the bottom there’s only one direction one can go.
After we arrived and tied up at the finger wharf we had a day and a half to rest and tidy up. We washed the salt spray off her deck and topsides, vacuumed the cabin, polished a bit of salt encrusted stainless and then we were ready for the weekend.
Friday evening, there was a social meet and greet with a serenading choir and tables of hors d'oeuvres. Although the tent we collected under was as hot as Hades, with nary a breeze to cool simmering skin, we met some very nice people, especially Bob Cornell who came up from Connecticut with his wife Sue and lovely puggle Bailey for the event and planned to race with us on Catalyst. Gregg with his 50 year history sailing and racing other boat designs had only raced a Nonsuch once and he was looking forward to learning some tricks. I hadn’t realized how skilled and knowledgeable Bob would be, I’d only just met him on the internet through a Nonsuch Facebook site but he turned out to be a terrific find.
The rendezvous was well organized and full of fun things to do but I must say the pinnacle for me was the racing. Even if the day started with clouds and rain, by the race start the sun was shining and the winds were perfect. Quite the adrenaline rush, although I must confess I didn’t contribute much more then winching in the choker twice when called on. Mostly I crawled around the cockpit taking photos of our crew and the other boats; a prettier sight was never seen. I particularly love when they pass one another on the opposite tack and their sails cross in a V formation. Not to sound too smug, most of the photos were taken from our stern as the entire fleet was behind us in the first two races; bullets they called them as we crossed the finish line first. The third race Gregg made a tactical error that cost us a bit of time but we still managed to win the overall championship. Bob and Gregg performed as if they’d raced together for years and it was thrilling to see Catalyst strut her stuff as the guys tweaked the best out of her ten year old sail and thirty year old hull.
There was a lot of socializing, Dark’n & Stormys consumed and late evening swims in the most exquisite salt water pool to wash away the sticky, oppressive heat of the day. The Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron is beautiful as well as steeped in history, established in 1837 marking it the oldest yacht club in North America. We were welcomed by friendly and knowledgeable staff and we were immersed in an atmosphere of all things nautical.
The second evening was snack and hors d'oeuvres made by the boat owners. I took Greek’s pudding, a local flavour of Lunenburg County which seemed fitting and I also made 72 mini butter tarts that disappeared quickly.
One of the highlights of the weekend was the awards dinner when Chris Ouellette played guitar and sang the anthem he wrote for the Nonsuch. He was accompanied by highly respected composer and musician Paul Halley on keyboard and his equally talented son Nick on the drums. During the weekend, there always seemed to be music in the air, with Nick Halley hosting a sampling of his talented musician friends in the evenings.
It was sad untying and leaving the dock for the trip home. Saying goodbye to new friends, such beautiful surroundings and the laidback lifestyle one easily adapted too. I’d never stayed on our boat for five days in a row and it was enough of a taste to know I’d like more. The Nonsuch yacht exudes comfort, has all the amenities, and if not for the fact our poodles were home with a sitter, I might have asked to sail into the sunset and keep on going.
The journey home held no surprises the trip up had, except for hitting something submerged to grind us to an immediate stop. I was up on deck taking the sail cover off and the force pitched me forward, I jabbed my finger and broke a nail. It could have been worse; if we’d been motoring faster I might have been tossed overboard. Later, Gregg got in contact with the coast guard to report what looked like a four foot square cement block a couple of feet below the surface, perhaps part of a long ago peer? The depth meter registered 40 feet one minute and then we were stopped dead in the water the next. I’m sure our lead keel is sporting a dent that will need a bit of reshaping when she’s hauled out for winter. We were only a short distance from the yacht club when it happened and more to the shore side than down the center of the channel but it wasn’t marked on the paper chart or on Navionics to indicate an object to avoid.
The wind was on the nose so we motored for a while and when we finally hoisted the big sail, it was another beautiful day on the water. The trip home was sweet, erasing the bitter of the trip up. Charlie Mitchell, owner of Horsefeathers, a Nonsuch 36, joined us and helmed the entire way to Mahone Bay. His boat is suffering some transmission problems so he wasn’t able to bring it to the rendezvous and we were happy to let him have some wheel time.
We arrived home shortly after 8:00 pm. The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon and the sky was ablaze with long, sweeping brush strokes of pink and orange. Mahone Bay has some of the most incredible sunsets and sunrises and this one seemed to be an extra special welcome for us.
We left late Thursday morning assuming it would take between eight to ten hours to reach the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron. I’m not sure what I expected of the passage from Mahone Bay to Halifax, my longest excursion on the water thus far. Let’s face it, I’m rather naïve when it comes to the ways and means of sailing. All I can say is that the voyage to Halifax was quite an education and not necessarily a good one.
The passage was a gyrating and white-knuckled carnival ride. I’ve learned that a ship’s motion is divided into six components in the six degrees of freedom. Heave, yaw, roll, surge, pitch and sway and we experienced them all in rapid succession like riding a mechanical bull set on high. Not being gimbaled like the stove, I was flopped around and my stomach also rolled and heaved. It was rough going, my internal organs rearranged as we pounded around in the lumpy seas. A couple of weeks ago a program on CBC radio said a plug in one ear will quell seasickness and I improvised with rolled up toilet paper but the upset was already in motion before I inserted it in my ear canal and by then nothing could stop the outcome. I must have been a sight hanging on to the counter for dear life while retching into the galley sink with a big wad of paper hanging off the side of my head. But, as every cloud has a silver lining, it certainly came in handy to wipe my chin.
Hubby told me when he felt a bit queasy on a boat delivery to Hawaii, he went below to lie down and felt better, so I followed his advice. The nausea faded away and I drifted off to sleep, shortening the trip for me which was another silver lining. Even the rocking and pounding on swirling waves did little to jar me awake except for this one time I did rouse in time to hear hubby say, “Don’t worry, that’s what the deck wash hose is for.” I gathered someone else must have been woofing their cookies, ginger ones to be specific, that one of our guests, who must have known the ropes, brought as a seasickness preventative.
I drifted back to sleep, unconsciousness saving me from more hours of swirling seas. I must say that I didn’t relish returning home, being a cork in a whirlpool tub with jets on the highest setting is not my idea of a fun day on the water. Perhaps over time rolling seas will grow on me, at least melt away the constant fear of our boat breaking apart and tossing us all into an angry sea. Perhaps with experience, I’ll develop a saltier disposition and a titanium stomach to match. When starting at the bottom there’s only one direction one can go.
After we arrived and tied up at the finger wharf we had a day and a half to rest and tidy up. We washed the salt spray off her deck and topsides, vacuumed the cabin, polished a bit of salt encrusted stainless and then we were ready for the weekend.
Friday evening, there was a social meet and greet with a serenading choir and tables of hors d'oeuvres. Although the tent we collected under was as hot as Hades, with nary a breeze to cool simmering skin, we met some very nice people, especially Bob Cornell who came up from Connecticut with his wife Sue and lovely puggle Bailey for the event and planned to race with us on Catalyst. Gregg with his 50 year history sailing and racing other boat designs had only raced a Nonsuch once and he was looking forward to learning some tricks. I hadn’t realized how skilled and knowledgeable Bob would be, I’d only just met him on the internet through a Nonsuch Facebook site but he turned out to be a terrific find.
The rendezvous was well organized and full of fun things to do but I must say the pinnacle for me was the racing. Even if the day started with clouds and rain, by the race start the sun was shining and the winds were perfect. Quite the adrenaline rush, although I must confess I didn’t contribute much more then winching in the choker twice when called on. Mostly I crawled around the cockpit taking photos of our crew and the other boats; a prettier sight was never seen. I particularly love when they pass one another on the opposite tack and their sails cross in a V formation. Not to sound too smug, most of the photos were taken from our stern as the entire fleet was behind us in the first two races; bullets they called them as we crossed the finish line first. The third race Gregg made a tactical error that cost us a bit of time but we still managed to win the overall championship. Bob and Gregg performed as if they’d raced together for years and it was thrilling to see Catalyst strut her stuff as the guys tweaked the best out of her ten year old sail and thirty year old hull.
There was a lot of socializing, Dark’n & Stormys consumed and late evening swims in the most exquisite salt water pool to wash away the sticky, oppressive heat of the day. The Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron is beautiful as well as steeped in history, established in 1837 marking it the oldest yacht club in North America. We were welcomed by friendly and knowledgeable staff and we were immersed in an atmosphere of all things nautical.
The second evening was snack and hors d'oeuvres made by the boat owners. I took Greek’s pudding, a local flavour of Lunenburg County which seemed fitting and I also made 72 mini butter tarts that disappeared quickly.
One of the highlights of the weekend was the awards dinner when Chris Ouellette played guitar and sang the anthem he wrote for the Nonsuch. He was accompanied by highly respected composer and musician Paul Halley on keyboard and his equally talented son Nick on the drums. During the weekend, there always seemed to be music in the air, with Nick Halley hosting a sampling of his talented musician friends in the evenings.
It was sad untying and leaving the dock for the trip home. Saying goodbye to new friends, such beautiful surroundings and the laidback lifestyle one easily adapted too. I’d never stayed on our boat for five days in a row and it was enough of a taste to know I’d like more. The Nonsuch yacht exudes comfort, has all the amenities, and if not for the fact our poodles were home with a sitter, I might have asked to sail into the sunset and keep on going.
The journey home held no surprises the trip up had, except for hitting something submerged to grind us to an immediate stop. I was up on deck taking the sail cover off and the force pitched me forward, I jabbed my finger and broke a nail. It could have been worse; if we’d been motoring faster I might have been tossed overboard. Later, Gregg got in contact with the coast guard to report what looked like a four foot square cement block a couple of feet below the surface, perhaps part of a long ago peer? The depth meter registered 40 feet one minute and then we were stopped dead in the water the next. I’m sure our lead keel is sporting a dent that will need a bit of reshaping when she’s hauled out for winter. We were only a short distance from the yacht club when it happened and more to the shore side than down the center of the channel but it wasn’t marked on the paper chart or on Navionics to indicate an object to avoid.
The wind was on the nose so we motored for a while and when we finally hoisted the big sail, it was another beautiful day on the water. The trip home was sweet, erasing the bitter of the trip up. Charlie Mitchell, owner of Horsefeathers, a Nonsuch 36, joined us and helmed the entire way to Mahone Bay. His boat is suffering some transmission problems so he wasn’t able to bring it to the rendezvous and we were happy to let him have some wheel time.
We arrived home shortly after 8:00 pm. The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon and the sky was ablaze with long, sweeping brush strokes of pink and orange. Mahone Bay has some of the most incredible sunsets and sunrises and this one seemed to be an extra special welcome for us.
Bob tweaking the sail and Gregg at the helm. Teamwork at its very best.
Catalyst II above and below, Dark N' Stormy celebratory drinks after the race.
Gregg, Alison and Bob.
Gregg, Alison and Bob.
A ship's motion is divided into six components in the six degrees of freedom.
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