John Harris knows small boats. He ought to; he owns Chesapeake Light Craft, "The Best Boats You Can Build" (http://www.clcboats.com). John bought his M-15 towards the end of 2001. His first sail, in late April of 2002, was a weekend on the Chesapeake. The following is an account of that sail on Chimpanzee and his assessment of the boat. Ready to launch. Note the rudder travel position. I live on Kent Island on Maryland's Eastern Shore, and the idea was to head down the shore from Kent Island towards the Choptank River. I launched the boat solo on Friday evening around 5 and headed out close-hauled into Eastern Bay. The weather report predicted foul weather on Sunday and Monday, and I decided that I should stay closer to home and not get out into the open Chesapeake. Every bit of rigging except the mast section was new, and I've found that on almost every first sail in a boat I've rigged something goes "Twang!" and chaos ensues. So no Choptank; I steered south for St. Michael's. Eastern Bay and the Miles River are protected from most wind directions. Besides, every boat on the Chesapeake was assembling a few miles away to watch Sunday's start of the Volvo Ocean Race, and as fun as that is I wanted to avoid the crowd, especially if my tricky new rig was going to fall by the board. Although I stayed out of deep water, my 2-1/2 day, 40-mile sail gave me a chance to try the boat in almost every condition, from long upwind drives in fresh winds, spinnaker runs in less than 5 knots, and a screaming, surfing 15-mile broad reach under reduced sail. The experience confirmed a suspicion I had: the published reports often understate the M-15's abilities. Chimpanzee has a clean bottom, newly faired rudder and centerboard, and new sails, and all this has to help. But all in all it's a fine little sailer: stiff, fast and weatherly. My cruise started with a 10-mile beat up the Miles River towards St. Michaels in about 12 knots of wind with a small chop. After some experimentation, I found that Chimp was stiff enough that I could cleat the mainsheet, which left one hand free to hold the chart book, take compass bearings, and grab handfuls of trailmix. This was the first trial of the new sails. The new mainsail, by Ulmer-Kolius, is bigger than the stock M-15 main. I had them put in a great deal more roach, which is supported by a full-length top batten. Looks just like a West Wight Potter's mainsail, only it's quite a bit larger, 95 sqft. I had also installed a slightly larger jib off my Windmill racing sloop. I worried that extending the sail area of the mainsail aft would bring about too much weather helm. There was some helm, but it was modest and only appeared when the boat was pressed down by a strong puff. The GPS reported 4.5 knots VMG while pointing high, a very creditable show. Ghosting under tacking spinnaker off St. Michaels Good shot of whisker pole position on the mast. Says John, "... technically a 'poleless spinnaker,' or a 'tacking spinnaker.' The spinnaker has a tack and a clew that are not interchangeable; you secure it to the bow and pole it out with an ordinary whisker pole. Obviously this is 20 times easier to set than a traditional spinnaker. To make things more weird, in that extreme light air I tacked the spinnaker to the bow pulpit to get it out to windward a little more. Not normally good practice as I think the spinnaker could tear off the pulpit in a big puff."(easier to see on the full-size image, click on image for full-size version) (full-size: 100 kb) As the sun set Friday night, I bore off to run up the Wye River, and made another marvelous discovery: Chimpanzee will self-steer for 15 or 20 boat lengths on most points of sail. I laughed out loud; the only other small boat of mine to do this is my beloved Bolger Yawl (an Oldshoe, smaller sister of Connie's Micro). The boat came with a sort of tiller-tamer widget, and with the tiller clamped I could actually stand on the foredeck to set the whisker pole. This was a real treat, and I was rewarded by a thumbs-up from a passing yachtsman, admiring Chimpanzee as she charged up the Wye, wing-and-wing. Running wing-and-wing into the River Wye at sunset Another shot of whisker pole position. About the red line to the boom on the left side of the photo: "That's a boom vang. And a preventer. More about that in some later post." (full-size: 164 kb) On Saturday I sailed further south, exploring the Miles River nearly to its end. There was hardly a breath of air as a passing high pressure system lingered over the Bay. Nevertheless, a 5-knot northerly appeared for a few hours, and I used this to run a few miles under full mainsail and masthead spinnaker. The GPS showed 3.5 knots under spinnaker in that light air before it evaporated and I had to fire up the Honda kicker. Saturday night I sidled up a narrow creek off of the Miles and laid out two anchors. Lousy weather was predicted overnight, so I stretched the old jib over the boom to protect the companionway and settled into the cabin with lots of good books and food. I'm 6'1", and I think the M-15's cabin is wonderful. Cozy and dry. The rain poured down outside, while I stayed warm and comfortable. It isn't perfect, mind you; the condensation was annoying. (Fellow M-15 cruisers are nodding their heads emphatically as they read this.) The only solution is better ventilation. I'm awaiting the arrival of a small Lewmar hatch for installation in the foredeck, and I suspect that will take the edge off the mugginess. Rain it did, finally blowing out around noon on Sunday. I stowed my books and headed back up the Miles towards home, about 15 miles away. I pulled in a reef in the main and was glad I did; there was some weight behind the southwesterly that followed the passing of the warm front. 15-18 knots. It was a straight shot from St. Michaels to the boat ramp on Kent Island, a broad reach the whole way, and I had one of those sails that you remember for a long time. The waves built as I headed north, until in the last few miles I was surfing on 3-4 foot waves. In more protected water, I could sustain 5.5 knots, right at or just above hullspeed, with a giant foaming wake. But in the waves the speed crept up; 5.8, 6.2, 6.6, 6.8, and for one glorious moment, 7 knots. I got so carried away watching the GPS for the next big spike that I didn't mind my course and I had to jibe to maneuver into Crab Alley. Rough conditions, but the boat was snug and dry. All in all, great fun. One of the things I liked the most was the Harken jib furler. Without leaving the cockpit I could whisk the jib in and out nearly as quickly as it took to form the thought. This was of great value when maneuvering, especially for a solo sailor, and I would say worth the $250. The "slab reefing" on the mainsail worked on the first try (that has to be a first for me). The stock tiller was too short to my taste, and I plan to build one about 20" longer. That'll make it too long with two people in the cockpit, but I sail alone mostly, and I like to sit forward so that the transom doesn't drag. In the longer term, I'd like to build a fiberglass "sea hood" over the companionway to form the basis for a low canvas dodger. That will allow you to keep the hatch open when it's raining, permitting more headroom at anchor, and the solar panel can live atop the sea hood.