The Blue View - Windlass Controllers

As I write this, we are in Suriname, moored near the tiny town of Domburg. A couple of nights ago, an American catamaran sailed in after a passage from Brazil. When they tried to anchor, their windlass jammed with the anchor partially deployed. They had just enough rode out to snag on the bottom, but not enough to hold the boat in place. As they tried to fix the problem, they ended up hitting another boat, then getting thoroughly entangled with it. After a bit of spirited language and a few hours of work, they were finally able to get clear of the other boat and anchor. There were a few rookie mistakes involved, but I shan't pass any judgments – Lordy, we've certainly made our share of mistakes along the way.

It did, however, remind me of the love-hate relationship we have with our windlass, that big, fat hunk of metal that raises and lowers the anchor. With the size of our anchor and the amount of chain we use, it is a very important piece of gear, and something we depend on. When it is working, we love it, but it's a royal pain when it isn't.

In a calm, flat anchorage, I might still be able to haul in a couple hundred pounds of dead weight by hand (I see Marcie smirking about this claim), but it would be a struggle. An alternative would be to use a line attached to a cockpit winch, and winch the chain onto the deck, 25 feet at a time. It would be slow and messy, but the winch would get the job done. When conditions change, however, and we need to leave in a hurry, a working windlass on Nine of Cups becomes essential. We both remember trying to leave a deep anchorage at Tristan de Cunha when the wind shifted and the anchorage became untenable. We were taking waves over the bow and when our venerable old windlass crapped out, Marcie struggled to keep us off the rocks while I hauled in all 250 feet (75m) of chain and our 110 lb. (50kg) anchor. It took hours. Not something I'd want to do on a routine basis.

I've devoted a couple of blogs to windlasses and how we replaced ours. Just as important is the windlass controller. The windlass isn't much good if the switches that operate it aren't reliable. We've tried several different methods, some of which worked well and some of which didn't.

When we bought Nine of Cups, she had a heavy-duty Maxwell windlass that was operated by two deck mounted foot switches. The system was simple and straightforward – when you stepped on one of the foot switches, the contacts of the switch connected the 12 VDC to the windlass motor. This approach, while simple, had two problems.

The first problem was the 150 amps of current that passed through the switch contacts. In the salty environment in which the switches live, conducting that much current through the switch contacts caused a lot of arcing, which in turn, caused the contacts to pit and deteriorate. I think I replaced those switches once a year for the first three years we owned Cups before I got wise to the problem.

In the next iteration, I used a windlass motor control module. In this option, only a relatively small 3-5 amps of current passes through the foot switches, and the solid state relays of the motor controller handle the 150 amps required by the windlass. The foot switches now last many years instead of just one.

The second problem was damage to the deck core from water ingress. Whoever originally installed the deck switches did nothing to protect the core except caulk under the foot switches. Eventually, water made its way into the core, causing the core to deteriorate and the bond between the core and deck to weaken. When we were in New Zealand a few years ago, I removed the top of the foredeck, replaced the wet, damaged core, epoxied it and the deck back together, then fared and repainted the whole area. The job turned out well, and is probably stronger than when new, but it was a lot of work. It would have been a lot easier to prevent the damage to begin with.

Any time I drill a hole in the deck, I do what I can to protect the core from water damage. If I am using self tapping screws, I first drill a hole in the proper location. The hole should be the proper size for the screw and slightly longer than the screw length. Then I increase the hole size by .25” (6mm), about 75% of the depth that the screw will penetrate the core. I will want to remove the screw and fitting later, so I coat both with wax or silicone grease. Then I use a Q-tip to paint the inside of the hole with epoxy. As it is kicking, I mix a batch of thickened epoxy, about the consistency of ketchup, and pour it into the hole. Then I position the fitting and screw the fastener in place. I use just enough pressure to hold the fitting in place. Once the epoxy has cured, I remove the parts, caulk underneath the fitting, and screw it back in place, tightening the screws enough to make a good seal, but not enough to squeeze all the caulk out from under the fitting.

Any hole that penetrates the bottom layer of the deck, like the hole for the foot switch for example, should be temporarily sealed from the bottom to prevent the epoxy from dripping down into the interior. If it is a small hole, I make a plug from modeling clay. If it is a large hole, I attach a piece of scrap plywood to the underside of the deck using a glue gun. I use only enough to tack the wood in place, so it's not too difficult to remove later. Then I seal any gaps between the plywood and the lower surface of the deck with modeling clay. Next, I paint the core with epoxy to wet it out, and give it a coat of thickened epoxy. In this case, the epoxy should be thicker – maybe the consistency of peanut butter, to keep it from sagging too much.

All this sounds like a lot of work, but the hour you spend now will save a few weeks work repairing a spongy deck core down the road.

Stay tuned – in the next blog I'll talk about making a handheld windlass controller, and, if you aren't too “windlass controller-ed” out by then, I'll show you my nifty digital chain counter.

Marcie's comment: “Geek sailors of the world unite!”

Peperpot Nature Park

We had intended to book a rain forest tour while here in Suriname, but it just didn't work out. Most tours must be booked for a minimum of three days. Everything must be paid in advance in cash and the sleeping accommodations are usually hammocks unless you book a jungle resort. The activities listed did not appeal to us, so we sought alternatives. A new friend we met at the American Embassy suggested a day trip to Peperpot Nature Reserve. It's just over the Suriname River Bridge about 30 minutes from Paramaribo and it seemed like a good alternative. We hired a car for the day and off we went.

Peperpot, an early 18th century coffee/cacao plantation, is being transformed into a nature reserve with walking tracks and a new discovery center. There's still construction under way … it's a work in progress. We planned on an early morning visit. Peperpot is considered a birding “hotspot”. More than 300 species of birds have been identified in the park, and morning is the best time to see them. We were told monkeys and other critters roam there as well, plus an amazing array of flora. We arrived early enough, but the admission folks didn't quite have it together and it was after 0830 before we paid our fees (SR$18/pp) and hit the trail. There were no trail maps nor other information available, but we were told the trail was 2.5km one way.

The beginning of the trail was muddy after yesterday's showers, but soon opened and dried out into sand, gravel and trampled leaves. Bamboo and palms provided lots of shade. Banana trees and old coffee (kofimama) and cacao trees, remnants of the plantation days, still intersperse with rain forest foliage.

Signs in both Dutch and English provided information about both fauna and flora in the park.

We could hear birds, lots of them, but could see none. Other than the kiskadees whose song we easily recognized, we had no idea of what birds were serenading us. When we did spot a few, they were always high in the canopy or deep in foliage preventing any clear photos. Sigh!

A worker on a moped went up and down the trail several times. Men with machetes were clearing bamboo and chatting loudly between machete thwacks. A backhoe was working on clearing a muddy area. We were hoping for quiet, but it was hard to find. We reminded ourselves … this park is a work in progress!

Insects abounded. We saw termites nests and long trails of red and leafcutter ants. Butterflies and dragonflies were in abundance, too … brilliantly colored and patient enough to pose for photos.

The trail was measured out with small signs at .5km intervals. At 2.5 km, the trail continued with no end in sight. We continued walking to 3km and 3.5km. Still no end in sight. We didn't actually know what was at the end of the trail, but we had hoped to get there. Disappointed, we finally turned around and retraced our steps. We had allotted the entire morning to Peperpot, but the late start had robbed us of an hour or more.

On our return to the entrance building, they asked if we enjoyed the plantation house. “What plantation house?”, we asked. “Oh, you didn't see it? Well, you can drive there. It's only 1 km down the dirt road.”

Hmmm … we got back in the car and started down the designated rutted, dirt road only to be further stymied by deep ditches and holes filled with water which we thought our low-slung Toyota would have problems negotiating. I nicked a photo of the plantation house off the Internet to see what we'd missed.

Though feeling a bit let down, we did, however, see wattled jacanas in the irrigation ditches alongside the road, as well as an unidentified raptor, which was some comfort. Probably common birds in the area, but uncommon to us.

We'd heard people rave about the birds and monkeys and other fauna they'd seen … like anteaters, so we were feeling that our timing was off. And we'd missed the plantation house altogether through naivete on our part and a bit of misinformation. All in all, not our best nature park experience, but the walk itself through the forest was lovely and we can see the potential for good things at Peperpot. Maybe next time?

Dutch word for the day - Drempel …. speed bump

There are many drempels on the roads in Suriname, even on “highways”. Most times they are marked, but sometimes they are not. We hit several that jarred out teeth.

A Hindu Cremation at Road to the Sea

Henri Fernandesweg is the official name of a side street off Kwattaweg, about 15km (10mi) northwest of Paramaribo city. It's popularly called Weg naar Zee, “The Road to the Sea” and it leads to the shores of the Atlantic. It's a popular birding site because it passes through agricultural lands, mudflats and mangroves. We did see herons and sandpipers, but it wasn't the birds we'd come for. The road also leads to a Hindu sanctuary, and nearby, is the oldest open-air cremation site in Suriname.

Births, weddings and deaths are key events in every culture. We had learned from several local sources attending a Hindu cremation was possible. We were interested. Hopefully, this doesn't sound too morbid or ghoulish to you … any more than visiting old graveyards. We read that strangers are welcome at the ceremony and photography is allowed, as some of the mourners would be photographing as well. The only rules … be respectful, stand up when the coffin arrives and do not hinder the proceedings.

The Road to the Sea was the best maintained, smoothest road we had driven on in all of Suriname. We drove past well-maintained homes. Hindu prayer flags mounted on bamboo poles adorned most yards.

We followed the road to the very end and found the Hindu sanctuary. It seemed totally deserted. Perhaps after the recent Diwali celebration (Hindu Festival of Lights), people didn't feel the need for sanctuary. It was spitting rain as we drove through the entrance.

We didn't stay long. We admired the colossal, colorful statues of the many Hindu gods and goddesses.

The grounds were beautifully kept. We could see that on another day, there would probably be many visitors, just not today. We felt as if we were trespassing upon a sacred place and we left.

We weren't sure of the exact location of the cremation site, but we noticed a continuous line of cars heading along another road which might lead to the sea. We followed like sheep. About 2 km away, we knew we were in the right spot. Cars had lined up and were parked on both sides of the road. We parked and once again, followed the crowd. We were told that cremations take place almost every weekday and usually begin at 2pm. It was 1pm as we wandered in the direction of crowd. We could see funeral pyres and then we saw a large covered area with people milling around … mostly dressed in white, the color worn by Hindus for mourning.

A large covered area with wooden benches at one end was filled with people. We saw a white coffin with family and friends crowded around it. Then, we saw two more coffins. Three separate wooden pyres had been constructed in an open area under small protective metal awnings. Men were waiting solemnly beside each. The rain came down in torrents.

Within minutes, men in white bearing one of the coffins, brought it to a cremation site, removed the lid and placed the coffin on the wooden pyre. Mourners followed. Shortly after, another coffin was brought to the second cremation site and finally the third coffin was brought out and laid carefully on its funeral pyre and the lid removed. Family and family led by a Hindu officiant dressed in white, followed and then gathered around.

We rose, bowed our heads and waited for the proceedings to begin. From our vantage point, we watched as large tins of ghee (clarified butter) were poured over the body. The lid was replaced on the coffin and then men carefully stacked wood high around the coffin. The fire was lit. The white-clad, pallbearers, their heads shaven (perhaps acolytes ?), walked around the coffin, stopping to light the pyre at strategic places.

The crowd stayed close. Some threw flower petals...a final farewell to a loved one or friend.

As the flames grew in intensity, the awning was removed and the family withdrew. We could feel the heat from where we stood and hear the sound of the roaring blaze as it devoured the pyre.

All three coffins now stood ablaze. The families had retreated under the large covered area. Food and drink had been set out. There was chatting and talking. Children ran around. In this aspect, not so different from Christian funerals we'd attended.

We didn't understand much of the ritual and wish we had known more, but we found the ceremony to be solemn, respectful, and beautiful. The public, open air aspect of the Hundu cremation with family present seemed very personal. We thought it was a better farewell than the impersonal method with which we are familiar... a mortician delivering the body to a crematorium and collecting an urn of ashes a few days later. We're told that in the Hindu ceremony, the ashes would be gathered the next day by the family and scattered on the sea in a separate ritual. We considered this an unusual cultural experience and felt we were fortunate to be able to witness it.

New word for the day is Hindi – jhandi – prayer flag