Sail Agora

Here it goes! My (Thatcher’s) first entry. Where to begin?

I write this at both the tail end and the onset of a monumental year. The sailing vessel Sea Otter, purchased in October of 2020, has now become the sailing vessel Agora. And though this marks a symbolic change for both her and I, there are some things about Agora that will never change. 

She is still the sleak and capable Cal 39, built and perhaps overbuilt in 1979, sailed between continents and across oceans and maintained with love. She still rides around 30 degrees to windward, makes double digits in speed while surfing down swells, and steers herself with balanced sails. She will keep us safe with her solid fiberglass hull and 17 thousand pound ballast. And she will always, always, sail like a dream. 

But after such a monumental year, or more specifically a monumental six months, there are differences which surely justify her name change. 

She has no more soft-spots in her deck (the places that become weak spots due to water logged and rotten wooden core that is sandwiched between two thick layers of fiberglass, bouncy like a trampoline). In turn, all her deck hardware has been removed, the corresponding bolt-holes lined with a thick protective layer of thickened epoxy and then replaced with butyl-tape, a sealant which will never have to be redone. She has all new valves and rebedded through-holes for letting water either in or out of her plumbing. Her previously cracked rudder has been fully repaired, and the hundred or so blisters from osmosis in her hull have been fully repaired as well. 

There are other things to repair, there always are. But it’s the little details that make something interesting, and comprise a greater whole, forming the spirit of the thing that needs a name. In this case, once Sea Otter, now Agora for its ancient meaning, and feminine sound. 

All of her previously halogen bulbs have been change to LED (except for the mast-light… more on that later). Her headliner has been removed and will soon be replaced, and various storage compartments have been expanded. Spaces have been edited throughout her interior for all kinds of reasons… to make room for the new freezer-fridge, to grant better access to the bolts and nuts of her deck hardware, and to simply open up a space for the new LED lighting we will install. 

The aesthetic of Sea Otter was curtailed for homely feel. Dark wood veneer and trimmed vinyl headliner could be found tucked away in her darkest corners, keeping bolts and plumbing and wires from the eyes of the flashlight-bearing beholder. 

Agora, however, happily trades the extra cubic feet of storage for the encroaching pipe or hanging wire, secured safely to avoid damaging it. She takes pride in her systems, and security in their accessibility. When things that need to happen quickly are postponed by unscrewing panels or peeling back layers of trim, one is left questioning their purpose. She doesn’t have any modesty, and would happily lift her skirts in a pinch. 

Sea Otter was a Swiss Army knife of sails. Lightweight and ready to strut her stuff in the San Francisco Bay. Agora let’s her speed show, but not before her work is done. Her sail inventory is smaller, but safer. Her controls need to be easily managed by a single sailor, not a team. 

There are other differences, but those can either be mentioned in later entries, or will come out with time. For now, we need to stick to our schedule, and I’m already burning daylight by taking time to write this. 

Stephanie and I will depart on Monday for Catalina Island. Sliding in between major weather systems that have broken records and flooded freeways this week and caused some unfortunate molding in the V berth. My guess is, we’ll quickly discover everything we forgot to prepare for or bring with us, but who knows. The sea is a teacher, and we’re excited for our first lesson in her classroom. More details to come. Thanks for reading, and hold fast. 

Captain Thatch.