The Rigging

With the horizontal parts as painted and finished as I was willing to let them get in anno domini 2019, I turned my attention to the up-and-down pieces which cause the lateral bits to move. Many years ago a very dear friend had been kind enough to take my old standing rigging to the Binnacle, in Halifax, and have some new stainless shrouds rove. Every time since then that I’d thought of those coiled wires I’d been filled with a feeling of dread, lest they not be long enough – or worse, too long.

            My fears were allayed when I manhandled the mast into its newly-fitted step and strung the shrouds through their newly-laid bushings and into the refitted chainplates. They were exactly the correct length, at least without spreaders, but those mysterious pieces of hardware will constitute a future chapter all on their own. For the time being, the shrouds made me happy.

            The forestay wouldn’t reach the bow plate without more convincing than I could give it with my bare hand on the wire, but a shackle and some elbow grease talked it into a connection. I’d elected not to replace the forestay when I had the shrouds fabricated because the jib stay takes the majority of the strain once the halliard is tensioned, so now I’m left to cope with the original forestay and all its adorable eccentricities, like the weird kink in the middle that takes up so much slack.

The forestay looks deceptively perfect in this photo.

            Unlike running rigging of old, where all the lines ran up-and-down on blocks, this modern aluminum mast has its main and jib halliard running through the mast’s interior. The main halliard leads from a little pulley at the very tip-top of the mast down through the hollow insides and out a little hole near the bottom. The jib halliard is similar, except that it exits the mast part-way up. While I’m sure this is fine operationally, it’s a real pain in the ass to feed 25 feet of ¼ line down a hollow tube. I’m going to skip how I did this, because the explanation would take over a thousand words, many of them four-lettered, and require a schematic for the reader to truly appreciate. If you want to enjoy a similar experience you’ll need a pint of Malibu rum, a telescopic fly rod, about a thousand blackflies, blazing sun and five times your own length in aluminum piping to shake vigorously for at six minute intervals.

            In the end, though, it was up. I used the main halliard as a topping-lift for the boom, which I wanted in place so I could attach all the mainsheet rigging. I was happy with the result, and the next day I snuck out between rain showers to hoist the jib and mainsail for the very first time.

Finally carrying sail. 

            It was a beautiful sight to behold.

            I also realized that I’d have to improvise some sort of mechanical advantage for the mainsail’s outhaul, since the alternative is brute force and making a series of hitches at the end of the boom. I have spare blocks and cam-cleats, so that shouldn’t take more than a few minutes drilling and riveting.