Sounds

The sound of a loon calling its mate at sunset is a haunting sound of which we never tire on Georgian Bay. 

Common Loon

"What's that noise I hear", is a question that sparks a hunt for the new sound until it's at least identified and with luck eliminated!

Personally, I can live with, and sleep through, a lot of noises on the boat, as long as I know their origins. 

So, for those not used to living on a platform suspended between water and wind I offer a sample of a few sounds we hear on the boat and their meaning and emotional impact:

• Wavelets lapping against the hull are soothing, an indicator of benign conditions.
• If we are swinging at anchor to the sounds of waves slapping on the hull and it all of a sudden goes quiet, it may mean we are dragging anchor and travelling with the waves. All hands on  deck!
• Wind whistling through the rigging, likely accompanied by vigorous flapping of the burgees or towels left out last evening cause a little tightening of the abdomen and a heightened vigilance that our anchor is not dragging.
• Flapping of imperfectly trimmed sails and our canvas cockpit enclosure while sailing in stronger winds tend to add to our perception of the severity of the conditions.
• Rain illicits mixed feelings. At night, listening to it drumming on the deck while we are warm and dry down below is wonderful (especially because the ports don't leak on this boat like they did on old Trekker).  Passing through downpours with severely reduced visibility and all the cracks in the canvas leaking like we did between Tobermory and Kincardine and again on the way to Goderich is stressful and uncomfortable!
• At the dock, docklines creak as they tighten and loosen against the wind and our fenders tend to squeek against the hull when compressed between the hull and the dock. Noisy but at least we don't have to worry about dragging! Karen puts in her earplugs and I burrow under my second pillow.  
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  Trekker docked in Kincardine

•  Neighbour's halyards (ropes that raise the sails up the mast) slapping on their mast are noisy and a sad indication of how inconsiderate we can be to one another. Smarten up people, tie your halyards away from the mast overnight!
• Waterfowl; the calls of sea gulls, ducks, Canada Geese and even swans are constantly in the background.
• Our new fridge and freezer exhaust fans are noisier than expected, but after a few weeks they have become white noise.  They have the added benefit of drowning out the sounds of the fridge and freezer compressors, so I do not lie awake at night trying to judge whether they are running more or less than normal!
• Sound travels surprising distances across the water. It's too bad that others in an anchorage don't realize this, or don't care, or just think that we really enjoy their taste in music!
• Rail lines often run along the shoreline. Consequently we get to hear the lonesome whistles of passing trains which I enjoy, reminding me of work terms in Thunder Bay.
• On the water, we're always attuned to any new sounds. In particular the engine, saildrive and "Helmut" our autopilot.  Right now Helmut is making a groaning sound every now and then, but it doesn't seem to be consistent, so that one is still in the "identify" phase!
• During our first two seasons on the boat, whenever we heeled to 14 degrees we would hear a clanging in the compression post that supports the mast in the cabin. We swore there was something inside the compression post, said to be impossible by the technical rep at Hanse.  This year? Silence.  Aren't boats fun?