PDRacer Sailboat - Jason Voyage in Shoestring

Cruising in a Puddle Duck
By Jason Stancil

After spending about a month of evenings getting my PD "shoestring" together I was ready for the maiden voyage. I had a week off from work and school for spring break so I headed down to Beaufort, NC to set the little boat through her paces.

Upon arrival my dad just laughed at the sight of shoestring saying it probably wouldn't be able to tack and that it would be a cold day in hell before he stepped foot in any boat I built. The next day must have been a bit chilly in the underworld because I coerced him into the boat by promising a coat of cetol on his boat's decks. It took about 5 minutes to rig the little balanced lug and paddle out deep enough to drop the kick-up leeboard and rudder.

A gust of wind hit. I pulled on the sheet and off the little coffin like boat went. She had a good load on board, about 400 lbs. of crew, still the boat push on against the headwinds and the flooding tide. We spent about 2 hours sailing up and down Taylor's Creek. The wind was light as we ghosted through the mooring field inspecting the bluewater cruisers that had come from around the world to rest in Beaufort Harbor.

I was really pleased with the boat and my dad was jealous that it sailed better than his very tender tender. I found the boat a bit faster and less of a rocking horse ride than the Bolger brick I had built a year and a half ago. Unlike the brick this boat didn't leak a drop and the kick up board and rudder were a huge improvement over Bolger's design.

My confidence up, I packed my dry bags that night. I loaded my sleeping bag, sleeping pad, my stove, cook pot, some warm clothes and foul weather gear in the bags and I was ready to cruise. The next morning I loaded a little cooler full of beer, water and grub into "shoestring", grabbed the handheld VHF and I was off. I launched mid day under sunny skies, 12 mph winds out of the south west and followed the dropping tide to the east down taylor's creek (away from the inlet) 3 miles later the creek ends as it enters the south river, I went another ź mile into the river towards harpers ferry before heading due south along middle marsh. I chose this route as the water is only a few feet deep all along the marsh until just north of shackleford banks. The leeboard bumped and skidded along the sandy bottom as the wind picked up and began to kick up some chop out in the sound. I was a bit nervous being over a mile and a half from shore and very happy with my decision to be in calf deep water. About the time I was patting myself on the back about my route I had to make the half mile passage across deep water to shackleford. The boat was on a reach and handled the chop marvelously. However, the flex of the ź inch bottom didn't necessarily instill confidence. Thump! The leeboard hit the bar that guards the anchorage behind shackleford banks. I had made it. I cruised towards the inlet just to see what the swells rolling in looked like. It was a slow going beat towards the inlet as I passed the odd anchored boat in the little anchorage. People stared in disbelief as I tacked on by towards the ocean. When I saw saw the 5 foot swells rolling through the inlet I knew it was time to go find a little cove for the night. As I jibed back towards shelter my father was bearing down on me in his lobster boat. He came up alongside and I dropped the lug and climbed on board his boat. I was greeted with a frosty beverage and "you're crazier than hell".

I tied up "shoestring" to the sampson post on his transom and she looked like the dingy she is. Dad towed me as far east up the anchorage as his single screw diesel could go. It was getting late and the sun was starting to set so I needed to find a camp for the night. I untied the PD and climbed back in. I pushed the tiller over pointed up wind and raised the sail. I heard the diesel roar to life behind me as "shoestring" creaked into motion. I had to raise the leeboard as I creped farther east towards the back side of Cape Hatteras 7 miles away. The live oaks were getting thick and stealing my wind so I figured I'd tuck into the next cove for the nights shelter.

I drug "shoestring" up on the beach above the high water mark, tweaked the lazy jacks so I could rig the boom tent, inflated my sleeping pad and laid it on the hull bottom. I put on some layers as the sun set across the sound, cracked a beer, fired up the stove and leaned back against the bow of "shoestring" while dinner cooked. I ate a pot of mac n' cheese as I listened to the ocean's roar and the playing of wild ponies on the other side of the island. I rolled a cigarette as the stars grew brighter. I figured the weather was looking good so I threw my sleeping pad on the beach, unstuffed my sleeping bag, put on my headlamp and read "Confessions of a Barbarian" by ed abbey until I slipped into slumber under the twisted live oaks overhead.

The next morning I awoke to overcast skies and no wind I made some coffee and went on a hike over the dunes to the beach. I walked past some ruins from the old settlement on shackleford, approached a herd of ponies and then walked a ways down the beach. I wandered around for about 2 hours and till I could feel a breeze picking up, then I decided it was time to head back to the mainland.

I packed up my things, drug the boat back to the water and shoved off, one problem, no wind. I could feel it on the south side of the island but it wasn't hitting the sound. Arghhhhh, I broke out the oars and started rowing. Being a river ranger and guide I get paid to row and it's not something I particularly enjoy doing in my leisure. When I got out past the bar, towards middle marsh, I left the wind shadow of the island and hoisted the sail.

Being early with light winds no chop had yet formed so I made good time heading down wind straight for Taylor's Creek instead of running down middle marsh. I lifted the leeboard for speed, ha! It felt kind of squirrelly with the board up so I put it back in the drink. Life was good till I rounded up into Taylor's Creek. The tide was pushing hard and I was making little headway even though I was putting up a wake. Then the wind shifted to the west and I was beating against the tide and wind. When I looked at the bank I realized I was now loosing ground under full sail, back to the oars. It's really annoying when your being passed by people walking on shore!

An hour later the tide ebbed and I got the sail back up and made it back to the dingy beach. As I unloaded my stuff I got bombarded with questions by passer-byers. What is that? Did you make it? Does it leak? Is that sail a tarp? It was kinda fun talking to folks as I furled the sail, grabbed the cooler, oars, dry bags and started heading home. As I walked up the road towards the house I could see two people poking around at my boat laughing. Cheap thrills

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