I'd really like to have a sailboat again 2

Article By Bernard Boulanger

Part Two - The Effin' Jay

My 2nd boat I ever owned was a Flying Junior . After mentioning to my friend, that fateful day, that I would maybe buy a little sailboat, the idea took hold, and as is usual with me, it quickly eclipsed all other considerations. I immediately started trolling craigslist for appropriately sized and priced sailboats. This Davidson FJ popped up, listed for $900 with trailer, it claimed to be an ex-University of British Columbia race boat. I got pretty excited! A race boat! Wow! I researched it a bunch and decided to make the trip out to Cloverdale to have a look. It was about as far into Cloverdale as you can get and still be in Canada. About a block from Zero Avenue(the Canada/USA border) and roughly an hour and a bit away.

Cloverdale is largely a rural area and this place was certainly no exception. The boat was in a large open yard ,and when we got there the owner was sitting with a few friends around a fire of shipping pallets , drinking beer and availing themselves freely of the opportunities presented by our relaxed Canadian laws regarding certain flammable substances. It's a funny thing, but I've noticed with boats (and cars, maybe all vehicles?) that as soon as they're parked in a yard their value freezes at that point. They can stay there for 10 years exposed to the elements and not loose even a cent of their value in their owner's estimation. This FJ had been cinched down hard on a trailer outside for a while without a tarp, it had a good deal of water in it and the hull had been pushed in by the small trailer beds . The mast on the other hand looked skookum and the Harken race gear was worth the asking price, though the UBC coloured race sails were kind of worn. I talked to the guy some more and I found we had a common love of music. He said he was putting together a program of 'safety music' for schools and had made an entire doll/puppet band that would 'play' the 'safety music'. Did I want to see it?

It sounded hilarious and I sure did! My friend and I went into his house where against the wall in one room was this large 8' by 4' by 3' flat black box looking ominously like a giant coffin. He opened one side and revealed the following sight!

My friend (a lady) took one look and whispered "Let's get out of here" in a scared and urgent tone in my ear. I was struggling to contain my mirth as it didn't seem appropriate whilst under the scrutiny of the earnest would-be puppetteer. "Wow" I said "Amazing" and it truly was, though somewhat unusual and unexpected..whew! What an imaginative guy. I especially liked the coffee can drum set.

I couldn't buy it that day as I didn't have a hitch on my Mercedes, so I headed home and in a couple of days , driving a borrowed truck, I made my way back out to Cloverdale to cinch the deal and haul her home. I haggled the fellow down to $500 (My Hungarian grandfather said "if you don't open your mouth, you'll open your wallet" and he was so right) and hauled it back to Burnaby with a cautious eye on the trailer the whole way. This time with $#&$#&$# trailer insurance. I waited for a family dinner and coerced my 3 brothers into helping me lift the boat off it's trailer and flip it over so I could begin the repairing, fairing, and painting. I don't think I've ever bought a boat that I didn't get home and realize I should've payed $400-500 less for it! After researching paint, and all the techniques required for dealing with the various noxious substances required, I got straight to work cursing and swearing , learning about fiberglass, fairing the bottom and learning how to roll and tip marine paint. (I also learned at this time that the magical word "marine" generally meant doubling the price of any commodity it was put in front of.) In the end she looked quite fine all painted up yacht white and I decided to call her the 'Effin Jay' as she was an FJ and in honour of all the effin work that went into her.

With the boat on blocks I could inspect the trailer and soon discovered I could poke the wooden handle of my wire brush through the main beam. Hmmmm good thing it held together for the 1.5 hour trip back to Burnaby on country roads and the freeway. I decided to scarf in a new section and save the trailor, so I disassembled it and carted it off to my nice welding circus brother (yes, I actually said welding circus brother! www.undergroundcircus.ca). After welding on a new section of main beam, it was reassembled and painted..huzzah! I think at this time I also made a trailer hitch for the Benz, copied from one on the internet. No way was I going to drop $200-$400 on a $@^#@ trailer hitch! Mine cost the price of a trailer ball and a plug for the Benz

After I'd finished the hull painting, I again drafted my brothers and flipped the FJ back over. It was then that I noticed the transom was pretty soft, so, more learning about replacing rotten wood and glassing it in. I did a decent job and soon the boat was back on the trailer and ready to go to the local lake for testing. Off I went, with trailer insurance, laughing at all the policemen I saw along the way!

Once again I experienced that silent magical sensation, and this boat had a turn of speed. Here she is ghosting along in deer lake, I like the tomato soup and mustard coloured sails! My mother later painted a lovely picture using this photo.

or farther away

I had many a memorable sail on the FJ. Often I would go to Buntzen Lake (The same man made reservoir that powers The Buntzen Power Stations 'Dracula's Castles' in Indian Arm). There was a cool little island in the lake you could picnic on (My niece dubbed it 'Pooh Island' because of what we sometimes found there. ) , or if you really wanted to escape the loogins yelling on the beach with stereos blasting you could sail to the far end, tie up, and lie on the smooth rocks there. It was here that my conch really came into it's own. It would echo forever between the steep walled mountains that the lake was set amidst.

It was also on Buntzen Lake that I tried to resurrect some of the old piratical pastimes of the Leaky Bastard the 'terror of the inland lakes' In the Leaky Bastard we discovered that sailing upwind, if you had a bubble blowing kit (and what responsible ship captain doesn't, amongst the other nautical safety gear) one could just hold the bubble blower up into the wind and a vast stream of bubbles would cover the lake behind the boat. It was really quite something.

We immediately put this to good use terrorizing the local boaters. We would charge down upon unsuspecting canoes and inflatables, come about at the last minute yelling our piratical war cries and then zip off upwind 'raking' our luckless victim with our deadly bubble broadside. We used this diabolical technique again and again much to the dismay of our enemies. However, re-enacting it in the Effin Jay with my brother and niece mostly resulted in a bilge full of soapy water and dangerously slick bench seats. The bubble solution didn't even seem up to the strength of the wind anymore. Oh for the piratical days of yore when men were men and the bubble solution could stand a good blow.

After a season of lake sailing I decided to tackle the mighty ocean and moved up to Indian Arm. Coming as I did from sailing in lakes, with the changeable winds and confines of space, the inlet seemed huge and hazardous, especially in the summer with all the crazy power boats. I'm sure 90% of them had no idea of the laws of right of way.

Many a time I was left wallowing in the wake of some loud reckless power boat yelling myself hoarse developing new and colourful curses. Ahhh sailing can be so peaceful. Generally though, I found myself doing less sailing and more keeping an eye on other boats and water conditions, not too mention tides! I also had a valuable lesson in how a centerboard can get jammed up. If your boat is beached and big wakes are coming in, rocks can get crammed up the centerboard slot..

Now that was high adventure! Involving maneuvering the boat across the arm into the wind, going backwards using a failing electric motor and an oar, making it to somebody's private dock where a handy length of 2X4 was used to pry the board down. Whew, what an education. The farthest afield I went was to the Twin Islands , but with only an electric outboard that's as far as I wanted to go. One time I went a little beyond that and lost the wind late in the day. Huzzah for friendly sail-boaters motoring home and taking pity on our paddling. They threw us a tow rope and took us most of the way back, I had fun hangin 10 in the Effin Jay as we surfed their wake.

Early the next year I acquired a free Chrysler Mutineer 15 (in need of repair of course) and as at that time I felt a little foolish with two boats (What was I thinking??!! Now I know you really need at least three!!) and I needed the cash, I reluctantly sold the Effin Jay to a rum piratical sort of fellow who ended up becoming a good friend of mine. Lately I've almost been considering buying her back....