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Thoughts on DS Tuning

Two articles from late 1991, early 1992 by Dan Duggan on tuning the Day Sailer Jib and main.
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Orbital Space Plane

I need to become more familiar with the proposed Orbital Space Plane, which is the supposed replacement for the Space Shuttle. So far, the only things I've read so far are this article. It seems to be very well reasoned argument of this vehicles deficiencies by the author, Don Peterson.

The Space Shuttle has a lot of problems, but it also has a lot of capabilities, (decent payload upmass capability, reusability, Extravehicular Activity and Robotics capabilities) which this OSP will not have. Peterson details these deficiencies well. It seems to me this thing is a pumped up X-38, which was the proposed Crew Rescue Vehicle for ISS. (The X-38 was cancelled, limiting the crew onboard the ISS to three, because the Russian Soyuz can only handle that many people.)

My solace in this is that inevitably, the design will change. But I'm not sure it will change for the better.

My impression of the U.S. Space program is that we went from the capability to launch payloads into orbit, to launching a few of people into orbit, to being able to send and return three people to the moon. Then we dropped back to launching a few people and cargo into orbit as well as returning the cargo to being able to construct a large habitable structure in low Earth orbit. We lost the capability to go to the moon. We only temporarily had that capability.

If we go to this OSP, and do not replace the other capabilities of the Shuttle, will have again lost capabilities. If we are going to go to the Moon and Mars we will need to find a way to continue to build large structures in orbit, and to launch and return large amounts of cargo to Earth.

If we don't keep this capability, we will have to relearn it before we send people to the planets, because the spacecraft needed to get there will need to be large enough to accomodate people comfortably for months. I can't imaging traveling somewhere cooped up in an SUV for 6 months. Something about the size of a submarine is the most comparable thing I can envision.

Why do we need to build large structures in orbit? Because the most fuel spent during a spaceflight is to get the payload into Earth orbit. That's why the Saturn V rockets had such a small upper stage (compared to the first and second stage). If instead of launching the entire vehicle into orbit, you bring up the pieces of the vehicle into orbit, and assemble them there, you can get a much larger vehicle ready to go to the Moon or Mars, or beyond.

I hope that we keep our capability.

Building up the centerboard trunk opening

Since the Day Sailer is not allowed to have a gasket over the centerboard trunk opening, the next best thing is to narrow the centerboard truck opening to the minimum width possible.
This article, written in 1992 by Grant and Marta Day, details steps to accomplish this. I have not compared the rules that are referenced in this article with the current rules, but I think they are still applicable.
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Michigan Trip Day 4

So, once more it was up early, before dawn and onto the road, destination - home, back to things familiar. From Cape Girardeau, MO to home is over 700 miles. We settled for a substitute breakfast at Micky D's, and headed into Arkansas. Jim took the wheel and I took a nap. I was awakened to a huge banging, thumping sound and, the truck bumped hard. I came awake immediately thinking 'Damn...We're lost a trailer bearing.' As I turned to look at the trailer wheel in the mirror, Jim said, "Sorry, I hit a truck tread in the road. I tried to avoid it, but there was too much."
"Let's pull over and make sure everything is all right."
We stopped on the shoulder of I-40 and I got out and walked back to the boat. Maybe a couple of minor scratches in the gelcoat, but I wasn't sure if they were there when I got her. The trailer light plug had been pulled out of the socket on the truck, which was bent up by the loose tread that had passed under the truck. I straightened the socket and reconnected the lights. We tested the lights and noticed that the left running light was not working. Jim reported no leaks from the truck, and so we got back on the road.

The trip down I-40 into Little Rock was otherwise uneventful. We stopped at a restaurant on the west side of Little Rock, near Benton, and had a proper lunch. We refuelled, and bought a replacement light bulb for the trailer. On down the road we went, I called Kathy and made arrangements to meet her for dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant.

We stopped for fuel at a truck stop near Texarkana, and examinesd the trailer light- luckily it was onyl the bulb that was broken for a few coins, we repaired it, restocked our refreshments and proceeded into Texas. The familiar highway 59 wound it's way toward Houston. We passed Timpson, Tenaha but not Bobo nor Blair... I haven't decided if East Texas is pretty or not. There's no reason for it to not be, except the trees are a bit scrubby, and there's always a feeling I get when I travel through there. Like there's a feeling of helplessness, a sadness, a feeling of disapointment. Perhaps it's the poverty that appears to be there.
We finally got back into Houston at dusk. We crossed the Fred Hartman bridge over the Houston Ship Channel and went south. Got Jim back home to his family, thanked him for his help, and met Kathy for dinner. A whirlwind trip to be sure, but it was good to get out of town for a few days.

Build a Centerboard

by Dave Misunas. One of the best written articles on the subject. Highly recommended reading for any Day Sailer sailor.
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Trip to Michigan, Day 3

I live in Houston, Texas, and yes, the rumors are true. Everything is bigger in Texas. But bigger ain't necessarily better. One such thing are the distances between major cities. It's a about a 4 hour drive to San Antonio at 70 mph. It's a five hour drive to Dallas/Fort Worth. It's three and a half to Corpus Christi, and another four beyond that to Brownsville. Those drives are okay, because the scenery is interesting. But if you ever must travel west from San Antonio on I-10, get ready, because west of San Antonio is a city called Junction, and beyond that is... nothing. Nothing at all. For many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, miles. This area is what I think they call the trans-Pecos. I call it hell. It's flat, desolate, dry, boring, and big, really big. It takes forever to cross. And may God help you if you break down out there, because there's nothing out there. I've made the trip on I-10 from San Antonio to El Paso six times. And it's never gotten easier. The last time was without air conditioning in July. (Did I mention there's nothing out there?) So, I've been through "the-hell-that-is-I-10-east-of-El-Paso" in considerable thermal discomfort.
Based on this, I think I can safely say I'm a veteran road traveller, and compared to a trip across West Texas, a side trip to Chicago from Detroit is a simple thing to do. I've never been to Chicago, and I've heard it's a great town.
I knew we wouldn't have much time there, but at least I could say I've driven through Chicago.

So, with this intention, we got up early on Saturday Morning, showered, shaved, checked out and hooked the boat up for the trip back home via Chicago. Jim had spied a Starbucks the night before when we were searching for dinner. It was comforting to know that after the sludge Jim was served at Denny's that there was some place to get good coffee.

There was surprisingly little traffic, which was good, considering I had an untested trailer on my truck hitch. The next to last thing I wanted was to have trouble with it. (The last thing is to have trouble with it in heavy traffic.) We filled our coffee mugs, grabbed a couple of pastries and hit the road, bound for Chi-town. The vague, and in retrospect, too vague, plan was to go into Chicago, take a look at the Chicago Yacht Club, the town itself, and get a genuine Chicago style pizza. We refilled in Michigan because we had to. At $1.79 a gallon I had the feeling of being robbed by that gas pump. We were entertained on the local graft and corruption by a grumpy old local guy who maintained everyone who owned a big truck in Michigan was skipping out on their taxes on the heavier trucks due to some loophole in the law. Maybe he's right, but with the condition of the roads, all I could do was determine to get out of the state as soon as possible, Despite the fact it's a reasonably pretty copuntryt. So, we bumped on down I-94 and left Michigan for Indiana.
The road got better a few miles before Indiana, probably because the heavy trucks don't go there. We drove through Gary, Indiana; Gary, Indiana....( sounds better when you sing it). From the highway, Gary looks pretty industrial. It was strange how we skirted Lake Michigan on I-94, yet never saw it until we reached Gary.

One observation - Northern Illinois is the land of toll roads, Even I-80, which we crossed but did not take, is a toll road. I-94 became a toll road outside of Chicago. The first toll was $.30, the next toll booth - $.70, the next- $2.00. You could tell how close you were to Chicago by the amount you paid in the toll booth. I knew we were nearing Chicago when I saw the Sears tower rise above the horizon, and that it looked almost like the scenes in Microsoft Flight Simulator. We continued up I-94, noticed the rapid transit commuter trains, and that the traffic got bad... I thought Houston drivers were nuts, but these guys (and gals) in Chicago are worse. Usually you can get a lane change in Houston by signalling and assertively moving over. The signalling is optional, actually. In Houston people ignore the turn signals. But in Chicago, if you signal, the other drivers actively take steps to ensure you can't get over, like speeding up if they are behind you, and slowing down if they are in front of you. Despite this, I managed to make two lane changes and exit onto Monroe street. We turned east and went into downtown Chicago, crossing the south Chicago river.

It's probably obvious to everyone but me, but I'm pretty convinced I was rather foolish to be towing a 17ft sailboat here, but by this time it was too late to reconsider, and I wanted Pizza... We continued east and poor Jim was trying to figure out where we were. The GPS said we were approaching Lakeshore Drive, but I couldn't tell. All I could see, and I wish I had had the opportunity to look at it closely, were the high rises, and roads under construction, and El lines running above the streets we were crossing. I found myself wondering where Elwood Blues lived...
"Oh yeah, Carrie Fisher blew it up with a shoulder fired missile, and it was only in a movie, so it never existed."
"Right, whatever, keep your mind on the road, Hunkins. "

Suddenly there it was, the Chicago Yacht Club, across the street right in front of us. We crossed Lakeshore and pulled into the driveway. Jim got out and thought he'd see if there was a way we could visit for a few minutes and hopefully find a place to put the boat for a while while we ate. After the heavy traffic and the huge number of people jogging and riding the bikes that I was desperately trying to miss hitting without destroying either myself, the truck or the boat, I was glad to just sit there in the truck, out of traffic and wait. Hopefully no one would try to make me move. I rolled the windows down, tried to relax and enjoy the fresh breeze from the lake. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to stretch out on the seat of the truck.

"Hey! Do you you know there's no place to launch that here?" I sat up, looked over and saw a middle-aged guy, obviously very rich, graying at the temples, driving some European sports car. The car was the color of a tonka toy and had a black rag top, which was down. He was looking at me, my truck and the boat with distain. He obviously couldn't tell that the mast was broken, and probably didn't care. He just didn't want to be invaded by some hoi polloi Texan in a Chevy pickup towing a dinghy. "I know, I know, That's not why I'm here." I responded, trying to stay as deferential and polite as possible. He sniffed, said nothing more and drove into the yacht club. "Probably a stinkpotter, I thought." I tried to relax again, wondering if the cops would come and tell me to get the hell out of town.

A few minutes later, Jim came back and confirmed what I had suspected. No place to park for the likes of us. The guy said we might find a place up Lakeshore Drive, so we took off. We exited and headed toward what looked like a parking place. We pulled up to the toll gate, saw the sign "No trailers",
turned around, and got back on Lakeshore heading south.

I vaguely glimpsed a road sign for Wacker drive, and again recalled scenes in "The Blues Brothers" where they were being chased by the entire Chicago police force down lower Wacker drive, running into Daley Plaza and having the SWAT teams go "Hut, Hut, hut" while repelling down from the top of the building. They were on a mission from God. We just wanted Pizza.

But there's nowhere to park in Chicago if you have a trailer, nowhere we could find. So, I resigned myself to the fact the best thing to do would be to get out of town.
I foolishly had thought there might be a place to park, and it was worth a try. But... Mental note - Don't try to park while pulling a boat trailer in Metropolitan areas...

I was tired and a bit cranky by now, as was Jim. I barely noticed that big fountain, the one that was on the opening of that dumb TV show "Married with Children". I think I saw where Meigs Field used to be, but couldn't see the remains of the airfield itself. We got on I-55 and headed out of town. We were feeling really hungry by now. It was after 2pm, and we exited I-55 to try to figure out what to do. We found ourselves in Romeoville, southwest of Chicago and stopped at the first likely place. Pizza was no longer a requirement. We stopped at a deli called "Danny Boy". I ordered an italian sausage and beef sandwich which was just wonderful. Jim got a Gyro Sandwich. We took our ease.

With our blood sugar restored to nominal levels, and a taste of Chicago behind us, we continued into Joliet. I had hoped to glimpse the prison where they filmed part of "The Blues Brothers", but with the realization that we had a long way to goand I didn't know where it was, I didn't expect to see it. But, fortune smiled this time, and while Jim was driving, I was looking atthe countrysdie to the right. There they were; the stone turrets of Joliet Prison, jsut like i nthe movie. If I had only been quick with my camera. I'm an odd one... I go to Chicago hoping to see a prison. I must be mental. Actually, I was mostly curious as to if the buiulding was at all like it was in the movie. It seemed to be so.

We got back onto I-55, and pressed on down the road. A few hours later we arrived in Springfield, Illinois, the home of Abe Lincoln. We stopped at Lincoln's tomb, a few minutes after they closed for the evening. We stopped at Lincoln's home, which is interesting from the standpoint that they have restored the city block where he lived to be like it was in the 1860's. Gravel road, and wooden sidewalks. They did, however, have air conditioning units in the houses that were used for park service administration. I noticed that there was not much going on in Springfield. It's the state capitol, so ther's lots of lawyers, but in general, there were a lot of slums in Springfield.

We pressed on dow nthe road, stopped at a gas station, got a snack, some road cokes and headed toward Saint Louis. We got into Saint Louis just before dark, and being in need of fuel, we did our best to find a station near the Arch. The Arch is probably the coolest structure in the U.S... cooler than the Golden Gate bridge, cooler than the Sears tower, amd probably cooler than the monuments in D.C., not for it's historical significance, of course, but from the sheer architectural and engineering beauty of it. I wish I had the time to go up in it. I tried to take a picture of it out the window of the truck, but I think I just blinded poor Jim with the flash, which I didn't need, but whic hwent off anyway. We refueled, and headed down the road. South of Saint Louis we found a restaurant and ate. As I recall it was a Ponderosa or something. Okay food, but nothing to write home about. I had really wanted to find an Outback or some other steakhouse. We continued onward to Cape Girardeau and stopped there for the night in a really bad motel. I don't know if it was the motel, or the town, but I wasn't too impressed with Cape Girardeau; it looked like a kind of dirty town. I can see why Rush Limbaugh left. The room we stayed in was wall papered, but by someone who didn't bother to go to the local seminars at the Home Depot to learn. The paper was bubbled, and irregularly done. The rest of the room was old and betrayed the age of the motel, very like the way an aging Hollywood diva trys to keep looking young with cosmetic surgery, but comes across emphasizing her age as a result. One more day on the road; home tomorrow...

Cruising in a Daysailer

This is the third in a series of articles requested by Roger. There are some interesting comments regarding how to pack items for a cruise. The author, John Ries also mentions a type of sea stove, I think that here, a picture would have been worthwhile.
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Two Years ago,

things changed for all of us. I don't plan to post stuff like this here, but I'm compelled to set down my thoughts on these events that happened. I hope that it will help me remember the feelings I had that day and perhaps it will help you remember what you thought and felt that day.

I was sitting at my desk studying a document for a Space Station Mission Control Center console position I was going to start supporting in the next months. I heard something had happened and I went over to the TVs we have here that are usually used to watch shuttle launches. I saw the towers burning, and I was unable to understand. I didn't realize it was terrorists. I thought it was a piloting error. I went back to my desk, and turned on the walkman radio I keep in the top drawer of my desk. I heard that the north tower had fallen. I went numb. I walked back to the TV, where everyone was standing. The replays of the fall were being played. Slowly, the realization that it was Islamic terrorists came out. We were all just standing around, in shock. There was some apprehension. Were we at NASA going to be attacked? The news of the Pentagon attack made our fear more intense. I guess I didn't think of NASA as a target for such things, but then again, I didn't think that someone would do this with an airliner. The government shut down the center. The Space Station control was transferred to Russia and we all were sent home. Before I left, I called my fiancee, made sure she was okay, and told her what was going on here. I drove to a friend's house, and when I got there, he was surprised to see me. I could tell he didn't know. I told him to turn on the TV. I saw a little of what must have gone across my face when I learned it. Shock. Disbelief. We talked for a while. I left, and decided I didn't want to go home. I went to a local pub for lunch, even though I wasn't too hungry. Folks there were in shock, too. There were comments, patriotic, anti-terroristic, and just expressions of shock and horror.
I finally went home and listened to the president's address. The news media were worried and critical of President Bush because he wasn't visible. I was a bit angry at them for that. The last thing I wanted was to tell these bastards, if they were out there, where our commander in chief was. I remember his address helped. But the rest of the day was a blur.

The next day, I don't remember if we went back to work. I do remember that the sailboat races normally held on Wednesdays were cancelled. The race committee said although they were loathe to let the terrorists change the way we lived here, that it would be inappropriate to play when so many had died. We didn't much feel like sailing, anyway, so we sat at the bar and talked. More shock, more patriotism, more anger at these scum.

I guess my thoughts are this: They attacked us because we are successful. Our forebears created the best, most free country in the world. We continue to build on it. Now come these scum, these vermin, to tear us down, instead of building themselves up. Now I'm not saying that we're perfect, but I do think we're the best thing going on this planet. I like being free to play with boats, to live where I choose, to follow the career I want, to live, learn, and love who and what I choose. And these people, these scum, these radical Islamofascists, these vermin, want to take that away from me?! It's clear, at least to me, it is. We can't negotiate with them. We must defeat them.

That's all I have to say. If you've read this far, thanks. Commemorate 9/11 somehow, perhaps give blood, they can always use it. Or maybe just just think about it for a few moments and be thankful for what we have. I hope we resolve to keep what we have from being taken away.

I promise I'll post more Day Sailer articles tonight.
Victory, then Peace...

Man ships himself in a crate

Part of me has to admire this guy. But I know that the government is going to have a heyday and make it illegal. The most disturbing part of this story is that he was arrested, but hasn't been charged with a crime.

Update: Actually he was arrested on other charges.... Hmmmm.

Trip to Michigan, Day 2

We got up early Friday morning, 5 am, which was not as difficult as it is when I have to get up that early for work. For some reason, getting up at 5 am to drive a pickup truck all day is pretty much like getting up at 5 am to drive a pickup truck all day. Getting up at 5 am to go to work is like coming out of deep sedation after major surgery. In other words, You're groggy, in pain, grouchy, hate life and want some form of drug to help you forget the world sucks. (The drug I refer to is of course, caffeine....)

On to the events of the day. We arose, checked out and hit the road shortly before dawn. We stopped at a Cracker Barrel restaurant (these things are everywhere, except when you want one, that is) and loaded up on cholesterol.
But it was sooo good... Eggs over medium, country ham, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, and of course, Coffee, served hot and hot. Jack Aubrey would have approved, but my doctor wouldn't.

I was surprised when I read the paper, that the top local story was about how parents were upset with the local teachers who were on strike. At first glance it wasn't surprising; I'd be ticked off if my kids were getting the shaft on education, but that wasn't why they were upset. They were upset because the teachers were also the, get this football coaches and their kids were not going to get to play high school football and would lose out on the college athletic scholarships... Forget education, forget preparing then next generation to take their place in the workforce, all we care about is getting them onto the football field so we can live vicariously through them, and hope they can get a athletic scholarship, join a frathouse and drink themselves into dropping out their sophomore year... Ah, sorry, I'm generalizing, and I digress. I just think there were some priorities that were severely misplaced here. I think the purpose of schools outght to be to teach people to think, not play sports. I guess I'm old fashioned.
We continued on the road through Illinois, and turned onto I-70 toward Indianapolis. Stopped for lunch there at another, yes, Cracker Barrel. I forget what I had, but I'll say this last thing about these restaurants. They've got a great concept - a chain that brings people in for food, and also sells some useful items for travellers. For example, they have books on tape that are rented and can be returned at another store on down the road. They also have travel pillows filled with buckwheat hulls - I bought one a few days before the trip and it makes taking a nap so much better. I'm sure it added a couple of hundred miles to our daily travel range.

We continued north on I-69, passing through Fort Wayne and Terre Haute, which I think means "High Land" But it didn't seem that high, the GPS showed only a couple hundred feet above sea level. I guess it's relative. We left Indiana and entered Michigan about 3pm, turning East on to I-94 where we immediately fell into a pothole the size of a van. Well, okay, I exaggerate. But the road immediately got rough. It was by far the worse interstate highway I've been on in years. At first I thought it was the fact they they get snow up here, and that is hard on the highways. But there was something more to it and it took me a few hours to realize it. That and Jim's perception. He pointed out that the fuel tanker trucks in Michigan have five sets of wheels on their trailers. The fuel tanks are probably 1/3 larger than the ones you see elsewhere. Apparently, in Michigan, they have higher weight limits on trucks, and consequently the roads get torn up much faster. There seems to be some sort of tax loop hole that allows them to skate on paying for the extra weight also. The preponderance of fuel trucks didn't seem to keep the gas prices down, that was for sure. As we headed north, the price of gasoline steadily rose from $1.55/gal to a high of $1.79/gal... Ouch.

We passed Ann Arbor and headed north to Bloomfield Hills northwest of Detroit. There are lots of car dealerships in this area. More than I've ever seen before. I know Detroit is the motor city, so the abundance of Ford, GM and Chrysler dealership is expected, but the number of import dealerships was high as well. We saw lots of people (probably GM executives) driving Lexus and Mercedes.

We made it to our destination about an hour before dark, and conducted our business with the seller. I did paperwork while Jim got the boat ready for towing. The seller said he had a mechanic repack the bearings and the cost was $70. I was a bit surprised by the cost, I would have figured $40, but the last thing I wanted was to burn out a bearing in the middle of Illinois, so I consoled myself with that. We ran into one problem. The trailer light plug was too short to reach the jack on my truck. So, we scurried down the busy boulevard to the nearest boat parts store without trailer lights and ran to the storefront just in time to see they had just closed. Luckily, after explaining we wanted to spend money, the manager inside was willing to let us in just long enough to get what what we needed - an extension that let us connect the lights to the truck. We were afraid that the lights may not work, but luck or Karma, a guardian angel, or Providence was with us and Jim was basked in the beautiful red glow of trailer taillights when I threw the light switch in the cab of the truck. since we were operating on Central Time, we thought it was just after 8pm, but it was really just after 9pm. (Eastern). For some reason, this suburban area shuts down entirely on a Friday night. There are few hotels, fewer restaurants, and no bars. We were in need of food and more importantly, cold beer. We found a Holiday Inn for a reasonable price, left the boat there and searched for dinner. It was now about 10pm. No night life, none. That's the worst part of these trips. If you have no idea where to go, you end up eating at Denny's. (There are no cracker Barrels in urban areas.)

For some reason, this Denny's was the only one in the entire country that doesn't have patty melts on the late night menu. While Jim convinced the waitress to have them make one for him, I went with a chicken sandwich. For some reason, people don't drink coffee there at night. I admit I'm not much for it myself, but I know of those who do. Jim asked the waitress several times for coffee and when a cup was at last brought it was a dark, thick, burned brew.. We mentioned it when we paid our bill and got blank stares in return. They didn't charge him for it. We returned to the hotel and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, although my mind was busy with plans for the next day.

The Day Sailer is for Cruising

This article from Spring 1965 relates the month-long adventure of four men who sailed a Day Sailer for 42 days. Imagine the tight quarters and long hours! They must have been good friends! Take a look.
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