I’ve been pretty absent from this space lately, but since I’m off on another sailing adventure I thought I’d post an update. 2014 was a little rough with the NASA UAS Airspace Operations Challenge being cancelled after many hours of hard work put into it, then my motorcycle accident in October almost costing me my leg, and putting a big hole where my knee used to be. After getting reassembled from spare body parts, I’ve spent the first half of 2015 getting back to walking, kneeling, squatting, cycling and sailing, and am pretty much 85% operational again. Naturally it’s time to get back on the ocean, and what better way to do that than deliver a 46-foot carbon sportboat from Honolulu to San Francisco. My friend and occasional SHTP nemesis Ronnie Simpson is skippering. SHTP reigning champ Steve Hodges and boat guru/all around badass Walt Kotecki round out the crew, for what promises to be a fun trip.
As a bonus, we’ll be taking part in The Ocean Cleanup’s first-ever MegaExpedition, a survey involving 40 other boats, and aimed at studying the distribution and composition of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. For much of our crossing we’ll be trawling a contraption with a net, taking samples from the first foot of water, cataloging them and storing them so they can be shipped to Delft Technical University in the Netherlands for analysis when we arrive in San Francisco. The samples have to stay wet and cool, so we’ve been provided with a little fridge, which I suspect will also keep some of our food and drink cool, since all-out race machines generally don’t have refrigeration. In addition, we’ll be doing periodic visual surveys of the water around the boat for bigger pieces of junk that don’t make it in the net. I think as a whole we’re all pretty excited about this, despite the extra workload involved, and the fact that slowing down to trawl six hours a day will probably extend our trip by a day and a half at least. As sailors we get to see how mankind has been polluting our oceans, and it’s great to be part of one of the first efforts to remove trash from the ocean. You can help too by avoiding plastic bags, bottles, wrappers, and packaging!
You can track Varuna here.
Since starting sailing offshore singlehanded, I’ve received a number of questions about electrical setups. When I purchased Idefix, she had the minimalist electrical system of an inshore racer: running lights, a VHF radio, speed and wind instruments, and a small battery. This clearly wasn’t sufficient for what I planned to do, so I had a lot of number crunching and wiring to do. Here’s how I went about it.
There are a few basic things you need to know about electricity before reading this. If you’re an electrical genius, you might want to skip to the next part. First of all, units:
- Electrical potential is measured in Volts (V) – this is used to measure the electrical charge on a battery. Boats usually use a 12 Volt electrical system. This is only a nominal voltage, a typical battery will show somewhere between 14.4 and 12.5 Volts. More on this later, but if it’s showing 12 V, you need to charge it ASAP!
- Electrical current is measured in Amperes (A), also known as “amps”. This is the measure of flow of electricity.
- Electrical power is measured in Watts (W).
- Electrical resistance is measured in Ohms (Ω). This is typically a property inherent to electrical circuits. An open circuit (no electrical connection) is infinite Ohms. A short circuit (perfect connection) is zero ohms.
- Battery capacity is measured in Ampere-hours (Ah), also known as “amp-hours”. 1 Ah is equivalent to a 1A current drawn for one hour, or a 2A current over half an hour.
Electricity follows a couple basic laws that you might remember from your high school or college physics classes:
- Ohm’s Law: Current = Voltage / Resistance
- Joule’s Law: Power = Voltage * Current
We won’t deal with resistance much here, so focus is really on the second one. For example, a 20 Watt incandescent light at 12V draws 20/12 = 1.67 Amps. Finally, most things on boats (batteries or devices) are connected in parallel (positive to positive and negative to negative), which means that their currents add up, but voltages do not. Putting two 12V, 110Ah batteries in parallel means that you have 220Ah of battery capacity at 12V. Wiring them in series would mean that you have 110Ah at 24V.
The first step to equipping any boat’s electrical system to be independent offshore is to make a budget of all the electrical power consumed. It helps to be conservative here. Once that’s done, one can choose a scheme for power generation that adequately covers the losses for the time spent offshore. Here is my electrical budget for Idefix:
|Ah for 16 days||908.41|
Power consumption for each item on board can be easily measured using an ammeter or battery monitor, or estimated from specifications. The hardest part is to have a conservative but realistic estimate of how much you will use each item every day. The one I’m showing above was my “rainy day” budget, and most of the time I ended up running the AIS, laptop and music almost 24 hours a day. As you see, I had to figure out how to make up a little under 60 Ah per day. The total use for a 16 day trip (about how long a transpac could expect to take for a boat with an intact hull and rig) was over 900 Ah. To give you an idea how much power that is, running your standard 60W incandescent light bulb for the same amount of time would consume about 2000 Ah. the average car battery holds about 70 Ah. So on average, Idefix at sea runs at less than half a light bulb. I also came up with a second electrical budget for the 400-mile qualifier I had to do. Since this was going to be a much shorter trip, I was going to push the limits a little more, hand steer the boat most of the way, and rely more on VHF for weather:
The planned daily power consumption for my qualifier was going to be almost half of what it would be during a transpac.
My choice of batteries was driven by a couple constraints:
- Capacity: I wanted to be able to run my electrical system for the four days it would take me to do the 400-mile SHTP qualifier without recharging or damaging the batteries. Most flooded lead-acid batteries can only be discharged to about 50% without damage. This means I need a capacity of about 143/0.50 = 286 Ah. An AGM battery can withstand a discharge of up to 80%, so I could get an AGM battery of only 143/0.80 = 179 Ah.
- Space: To keep the batteries low, centered, secured, and covered, I was limited to the space under the benches in the middle of the cabin. This meant a maximum battery size of about 16″ x 9″.
- Safety: for redundancy, I needed two batteries that I could isolate in case one failed. I also wanted a sealed lead-acid or AGM battery that wouldn’t spill acid when the boat heeled.
- Budget: you’ve probably understood by now that I’m a cheapskate. I wanted the least expensive batteries that met my criteria.
- Weight: I wanted my batteries as light as possible for a given capacity.
With these criteria, I ended up buying two Universal UB121100 110Ah AGM batteries. They’re about 70lbs each, and fit nicely under the benches. They ended up providing plenty of power, and with my meager electrical consumption I could run for 4 or 5 days without any charging.
The batteries alone wouldn’t suffice for crossing the Pacific, so I had to think of a way to charge them. The Olson 30 has no inboard engine, and therefore no alternator. A gasoline-powered generator would’ve been about $1000, and I didn’t like the idea of flammable fuel and a loud and stinky mess on the boat. Wind generators were a little more expensive, and I ruled them out because they’re also noisy, heavy, and don’t put out enough power downwind. I pretty quickly focused on solar power, as it was quiet, clean, low weight, and cheap compared to other options. There are a couple things to know about solar panels. For one, they rely on weather, which is a notoriously unpredictable thing. Clouds will cut down on solar power production dramatically. So will the shadow of a sail, mast or rigging. So will a solar panel that’s not pointed directly at the sun. One can dedicate a lot of effort to calculating what the output of a particular solar installation would be on a given day in a given latitude, but since I was going to be cruising from the cloudy environs of 38 North to the mottled skies of the tropics, I simply came up with some rough figures: an efficiency of about 50% to account for controller losses, shadows and angles, and an illumination of 8 hours per day to account for nighttime and low sun angle. A solar panel typically isn’t wired directly to a battery, but through a device called a charge controller. There are several types of charge controllers, the most popular of which are PWM and MPPT. I selected an MPPT charge controller as they are significantly more efficient than PWM controllers. The charge controller losses were factored in my 50% efficiency.
If we go back to our transpac power consumption of 56.77 Ah/day, that gives us a requirement of 56.77 * 12 = 681 Wh/day. With 8 hours of power-generating sun a day we need 681/8 = 85 Watts, and at 50% efficiency that means 170 W of installed solar panels. I found a reasonable deal on a 135W panel and a 40W panel, so I ended up with 175W installed, with the two panels in parallel. I wanted to have two separate panels in case one cracked, and the 40W panel would’ve allowed me to run running lights and send out a message. I didn’t really know where to put it, so it ended up forward of the companionway under the boom, which means it was in the shade most of the time.
Interestingly, solar panels have become much more affordable and much better since I first equipped Idefix in 2010. The lightweight, flexible panels in particular are very attractive, and it’s only a matter of time before we see sails capable of gathering power.
Other Means of Generation
Solar was the clear choice for what I wanted to do, but there are other options to consider. Of course if your boat has a diesel engine, you have a fair bit of power at your disposal already. Fuel cells can be attractive too, being clean, quiet and powerful, although they are expensive and methanol fuel can be difficult to find. Finally, hydrogeneration seems to make leaps and bounds, with many of the IMOCA 60s now using hydrogenerators for power. Watt&Sea makes one that sells for a little under $4k.
A good battery monitor is a critical part of the installation. The monitor simply counts the current flowing in or out of the batteries and integrates current flow over time. It can therefore display the state of charge of the batteries at any given point in time, which is extremely useful. Like I mentioned earlier, most lead-acid batteries cannot tolerate being discharged past 50% of their capacity. I have seen several sailors deep-discharge their batteries and pointlessly ruin them. Most monitors have alarms set to prevent this. It’s also critical that everything be wired through the monitor to get an accurate picture of the state of charge of the batteries.
Our final power budget adds the power generation and subtracts the consumption to come up with a daily figure. Obviously we want this to be positive.
|Ah total (16 days)||24.92|
Tips for saving power
One of the greatest things about sailing is that we have virtually unlimited range. However, on a small boat with no inboard engine, electricity can be a bit of a stretch. If you’re singlehanding, the amount of power burned by an autopilot running over twelve hours a day starts to make things tricky. But it’s also a great opportunity to show that you can do more with less, and there are quite a few benefits to being frugal with energy. Lowering the power draw helps lighten the boat (panels and batteries add up), free up real estate (panels take up a ton of space), preserve your wallet (panels and batteries are expensive), keep your boat from looking like a solar farm, avoid the noise of a wind generator and the smoke and fuel of gas or diesel, keep you independent of marinas and fuel docks, and most importantly, keep you from ending up in the dark offshore. For that you have to be willing to forgo some of the power-intensive habits that are so easy to acquire on land. The most important part is to spend a little bit of time thinking about where your electrons are going, and discipline yourself while underway, keeping things off unless you really need them, and hand steering when you can. Here are a couple tips for lowering your power consumption:
- Ditch all your incandescent bulbs for LED lights. LEDs use up a fraction of the power. This is especially important for running lights, which are on all the time. As for cabin lighting, now you can find warm white LEDs that have that pleasant glow, so there’s no reason to stick to incandescents. I used a $5 red trailer LED to light up Idefix‘s chart table and cabin while underway.
- Ditch refrigeration. It is the single most power-hungry piece of equipment on a boat (except for a windlass, but you don’t run that all day while underway). I lived on Idefix for many months without refrigerated food. Here are some of the things I ate: cured meats, dried sausage, hard cheeses, eggs, bread, tortillas, cabbage, citrus, bananas, potatoes, onions, peppers, pineapple, fruit juice, UHT milk, dehydrated veggies of all kinds, pasta, rice, every canned food imaginable, and of course fresh fish! When you get back to land your loved ones will think you a rock star for keeping your eggs out of the refrigerator and eating things you left on the kitchen counter overnight.
- Look for mechanical alternatives to some of your electrical systems. I’ve never used a wind vane before, but I’ve heard they’re like a magical autopilot, and they use no power! Where many boats have a depth sounder, I got by with a lead line.
- Laptops are big power hogs. Look at battery life and power rating to get an idea before you buy. The netbook I used for AIS, chartplotting, email and weather was the least power-hungry on the market. I swapped out the hard disk with a solid state drive and brought the power consumption to under two-thirds of an amp.
- Inverters waste a lot of power. Get a 12V power supply for your laptop, MP3 player or cellphone.
- Make it a ritual to turn off running and instrument lights when the sun comes up.
- Understand your system and know what your big consumers are. Autopilot and laptop were mine, and I shut these down whenever I felt stressed about power.
- Most importantly, keep an eye on your power consumption. Use the battery monitor, and note the battery state of charge in your logbook. This will help you track trends, and tell if you’re running a deficit before things get hopeless.
On the 2012 SHTP we were in overcast for ten days and I noted early on that I was never coming up to full charge and started rationing power. I also kept an eye on battery voltage and realized at one point that my MPPT controller had been set to the wrong output voltage and wasn’t topping off my batteries, which allowed me to reset it to get even more power out of it. Not far away, my friend Ronnie on US101/Hope for the Warriors was in the dark, hand steering for 20 hours a day and unable to check in with his position. In the weeks before the race he had installed some high-tech lithium batteries that required a significantly higher voltage than lead-acid batteries, with a lightweight flexible solar panel that put out a little over 100W, and had a top-of-the-line but power-hungry autopilot. Unfortunately he was running short on time and hadn’t had a chance to test his setup, and the weather caught him off-guard and left him without power. Being a stupendous badass, he simply shut everything off, leaving just enough power to send the message that we wouldn’t hear from him for a while, and pulled out every ounce of human endurance to hand-steer his boat to a division win. While it makes for a great story, thoroughly planning and testing your electrical system is a good start to having a more relaxing trip.
One of the sailors prepping for this year’s Singlehanded Transpac recently asked me how the windows on Idefix held up. As you might recall from this post, in preparing for the 2012 SHTP I had replaced the old, leaky, cracking and hazy windows with new ones. I didn’t go into much detail about how I installed them, and I hadn’t followed up on how they held up, so it’s probably time I answered that.
Just one word: plastics
First of all, I used acrylic for the windows. Acrylic is also known as plexiglas. The other choices would be polycarbonate (sometimes referred to as Lexan) and glass. Glass is an obvious no-go for me because it’s heavy, fragile, expensive, and hard to cut and shape. Polycarbonate is frequently used to make bulletproof windows, fighter pilot canopies, motorcycle helmet visors, and other impact-resistant applications, so one might think it would be a good choice for a boat window. But it has some significant drawbacks. For one it scratches much more easily than acrylic. It is also way more flexible for the same thickness. And more expensive. Finally it is very hard to find it in the right thickness, and colors are very limited.
Acrylic, on the other hand, is quite stiff and scratch resistant. The downside is it tends to crack if it is improperly stressed. In the end, I chose it for the simple reason that it was cheaper, easy to cut myself, which is why all the boat manufacturers use it for windows and hatches.
Cutting the acrylic to shape was pretty easy. It comes with a protective layer on each side that you peel away before installation. I removed the existing windows and used them as templates, tracing their outline on the protective sheeting. I then cut the acrylic using a bandsaw, and smoothed the edges with a belt sander.
After choosing the material, I had to choose a way to fasten it to the boat. The Olson’s original acrylic windows were fastened with screws every 6 to 12 inches, and many had cracks radiating from them. The reason they crack is that the windows expand and contract much more than the fiberglass does with changes in temperature, leading to loads at the screws. I didn’t like the idea of drilling holes into my spiffy new windows, so I decided to forgo the screws, and just glue them on. Many boatyards take this approach. For adhesive, I did a bit of research on boat forums and chose Dow 795, which is allegedly used for gluing windows into skyscrapers. I’ve been told that Sikaflex 295 UV will work as well.
First of all, I had to meticulously clean up the area around the old windows. I hate leaky boats, and I wanted a perfect seal. This required a fair bit of peeling off old 4200 (yuck), scraping it off with razor blades, and sanding whatever was left. Then I rubbed the bond surface with acetone and wiped it dry. When all was ready, I cut the protective sheeting on the acrylic with an exacto knife in such a way as to expose only the bond area, leaving the inside window protected. I applied a steady bead of 795 all around the window. Too little and it will leave voids, but too much and it will ooze all over the place. Then I lined up the window and pressed it into place. The hardest part is to find a way to apply pressure to the window to keep it lined up and in place while the silicone cures. This involved a clever arrangement of 2x4s against the lifelines, but the forward windows were tricky and I ended up holding them in place manually for a little bit, then leaving them to their own devices. The cure time for 795 is supposedly three weeks, and I was a little worried because we had our usual Seattle cold and humid weather, and I even took the boat sailing a few times, but eventually everything hardened up nicely and the windows stayed put.
Ten thousand miles later…
As it turns out, the windows worked perfectly. There were no leaks for my whole trip to Australia, and the windows were nice and solid. Either at the dock or on the trip, one side of the boat was a little more exposed to sunlight, and one of the windows ended up getting a little bit of UV crazing, but other than that they looked as good as new.
And finally, a question of my own. What do you call the windows on a boat? Portholes? What if they don’t open?
I sailed on Huckleberry 3 in the Farr 40 North American championships in Long Beach two weeks ago, and it was a fun four days of sailing, but very tough racing for us. The level of competition is incredibly fierce, and a couple errors on the first (windy) day cost us multiple places in every race. A jib sheet I’d improperly left on the winch in a tack got seriously fouled and took ten or fifteen ugly seconds to clean up. In the last race a bad hoist wrapped the kite and we watched four or five boats sail past us as we struggled to clean it up. These are mistakes that can be made up for in handicap races, but are unforgivable at this level of one-design competition. We ended the day pretty frustrated, as we’d been in the middle of the fleet before screwing things up.
The breeze was lighter on the second day and we brought our A game. Our boat handling was better than it had ever been, and our maneuvers this time were flawless. But the other boats had improved as well, and this time we found our boat speed to be just plain lacking. We ended up at the tail of the fleet the whole day, and the next two days as well.
This was a pretty frustrating exercise, but I learned a lot, made some new friends, and my arms and shoulders have doubled in size from all the pulling lines and grinding winches! Check out the photos from the event on Joysailing’s page.
Day 1 of the Farr 40 Midwinter Championships was a tough one for Huckleberry 3, the boat I’m crewing on. One of the few amateur boats against a field of seasoned professionals, a charter boat that we’ve only had in our hands for a couple weeks of practice, and a crew that was only fully together for the first time as we left the dock for the first race. In retrospect, it’s no surprise that we’re tied for last place. But we managed to finish ahead of a few boats in each race, and were in the leading pack in the last one before we lost our spinnaker and retired, so there’s hope in the remaining three days of racing.
It’s quite a change being part of a competitive one-design program in a class with lots of professionals. Every move on the boat is choreographed to the smallest detail, and the racing is intensely close. I have no doubt that I’m learning a lot by sailing with Jim and his crew, and it’s tremendous fun to be part of the Huckleberry 3 program.
My arms, back, shoulders and legs are all aching with the dull pain of a good day of sailing in a solid breeze. I have no doubt that by the end of the week they’ll be in agony, but it’s all for good fun.
I’m finally getting around to cutting some of the footage from the 2012 Big Pacific Adventure, and I thought this little clip might help some of the people preparing for this year’s Singlehanded Transpac and Pacific Cup races, so it’s the first to go up. I threw in a few gratuitous sailing scenes just for fun!
Frantic has arrived safely in Hobart after three days of racing. The Hobart definitely lived up to its reputation as a tough race, serving up a gale that made the beat down the coast of Tasmania a rough ride, and rounding Tasman Island a serious challenge.
There was only minor carnage on the trip down from Sydney: a broken steering link took out one of the wheels, our pedestal grinder gave up the ghost, a tear in the main forced us to throttle back for the beat across Storm Bay, a collision with an ocean sunfish had us worried for a bit, and a garbage bag explosion in the stern wafted nasty smells through the boat for the last 36 hours of racing, on top of the usual wet boat unpleasantness that comes with beating to windward in a gale on a race boat with 13 people. It wasn’t all unpleasant though, with a very cool reach at the start, watching the maxis take off like bats out of hell, the crazy spectator fleet filling Sydney harbour, and helicopters buzzing all around. And nothing beats the running in solid breeze, with some good sustained runs in the twenties and a new boat speed record of 25 knots. And then there’s the reception in Hobart, with hundreds of people cheering and applauding every boat that comes in, and lots of spectators walking the docks, checking out the boats, and congratulating the racers. And let’s not mention the 24-hour party at The Customs House, where the racers celebrate their race until sunrise…
It looks like we’re sixth in division and 27th overall. I would’ve liked to do better, but you can’t always win when you like to take flyers (then again, Varuna made some more extreme moves than us and ended up winning our division), and there were some moments when we took the decision to sail the boat a little more conservatively and probably lost out a bit, but that can be justified when I look over at the dismasted Wedgetail sitting across the dock.