Umiaq is Montgomery 15 #264. I bought the boat in July of 1997.
One Wednesday in October I launched Umiaq at Backyard Boats in Shadyside MD. The marina was carefully selected to meet the strict requirement of answering their phone when I called to ask if they had a ramp and saying "yes" when I asked if I could leave the boat there for a couple of days before I started my trip. It turns out that they're pretty nice people there. For those who know the area, Shadyside is at the entrance to the West River, giving easy access to Chesapeake Bay a little south of Annapolis. The launch turned into more of a performance than it should have done because the engine was even less cooperative than usual. After hauling away at the starter for a while, cleaning plugs, fiddling with the carburetor and cursing the very idea of the two-stroke cycle I sailed (as opposed to motored) away from the dock only to find that I had missed the entrance to the slip I had been assigned and the centerboard wouldn't come down. I spent the next hour or so trying to beat back against the wind and current. Eventually the board freed off and startled me by thumping down on its own; after that I was quickly where I needed to be.
The next day was the opening of the Annapolis sailboat show, where I saw many wonderful boats (plus a few dogs) but not a single small boat that could hold a candle to Umiaq. I also realized that I had been right when I swore 20 years ago that I would never own another two-stroke motor, and became the proud owner of a Honda 5HP four-stroke motor.
"It's a nice evening", I thought. "I'll just go and make sure that the boat's OK before I go home. Perhaps have a quiet snack on board". Nice idea. Instead, I found a foot of water in the cabin and isolated a point where a fitting had been screwed onto the hull and then removed as the point of failure. So I had a pleasant evening bailing and drying out. Just as well that I'd gone down, though, or the next day would have been less than perfect, probably involving large pumps.
As it turned out, the next day was very close to perfect. After leaving my family at the airport for their trip and picking up the new engine I finally got under way at about noon, and was very quickly able to douse the iron topsail as I entered the Bay. I suppose that it's about 10-15 miles across the Bay at that point, and I headed across towards the Poplar Islands. I had been concerned about crossing the shipping lanes, but no big deal (hint: If you are among the crab pot buoys, the ships can't get to you). The wind was just great, and the swell was enough to keep the boat feeling alive. The first mistake of the day was when I headed south to go round Tilghman Island instead of passing through Knapps Narrows. This mistake meant that I was at Sharps Island lighthouse (yes, I know, but it seemed a shame to be so near but not go and look at it) at sunset. Some mistakes are a good idea, and this one meant that I spent a while hove-to watching the sun go down on the water and the cormorants settling down for the night. The lighthouse is tilted over at quite an angle after being hit by ice floes a few years ago and is picturesque in an unbalanced sort of way. The time spent fitting proper running lights paid off as I chugged up the east side of Tilghman Island in a flat calm in the dark.
Just a little south of Knapps Narrows is Dogwood Harbor and Harrison's Hotel. After plowing through the mud for a while I was able to tie up next to some workboats and go for one of the nicest meals that I remember. Harrisons is highly recommended if you're in the area. The second mistake of the day may have been deciding not to find a quiet corner of Dogwood Harbor to anchor for the night - I went a little offshore to escape the sound of Tilghman youth burning rubber on the main drag. And there I was for my first night on my new boat.
I immediately learned that what I had learned kayak camping is equally true on a larger boat: The less you have, the more you can find, so the more you have. I had so much that I had almost nothing. No matter, Umiaq's cabin is incredibly cozy and comfortable.
Next morning found me bouncing around considerably with the freshened (and changed) wind. This was a fast (as in, no eating) day, which made breakfast very simple. We (Umiaq and I) were soon sailing off across the Choptank towards the mouth of Broad Creek. I'd decided that the town of Saint Michaels was a good place to head for, and although the main part of the town has the Miles River on the North edge it is on a narrow isthmus, and you can also approach it from the other side on Broad Creek to San Domingo Creek. The Miles River is busy and noisy, filled with boats of all types and sizes, while San Domingo Creek is quiet and peaceful. After a few hours just blissfully sailing about, the wind died away to nothing and I put in the last few miles courtesy of the Honda Motor Corporation. When I've visited here before it's been on a much larger boat, which meant anchoring, inflating the dink and rowing to the dock used by the workboats. Umiaq has no problem going right to the dinghy dock. Unfortunately I managed to pick up a large amount of heavy duty fishing line on the prop, and before I realized what had happened it was so thoroughly wrapped up that I had to bring the engine inboard and remove the propeller to clear it. The line was even wrapped around the shear pin!
This brings me to the only problem that I have identified with the Honda outboard - it's heavy. I'm not sure how much the Johnson 4HP weighs, but it's considerably less than the Honda 5's 61 pounds.
Anyway, all soon became well, and I hit the town for dinner/breakfast. The bar at the City Dock (Miles River side) does a good tuna sandwich, and I did justice to it. Pleasant walk around the town and back to the dock in the moonlight. As I headed towards one of the deserted (shallow) side creeks I lowered the centerboard for a little extra stability, and... CLUNK. It was immediately obvious that the thing had left its casing and was dangling loose below the boat hanging from its pennant. &^%$#@! Oh, well. Nothing to be done tonight.
I passed a very peaceful night and woke to the sunrise clearing the mist from the water as flocks of geese flew overhead surrounded by honking.
Back at the shallow water around the dock, I dropped the centerboard pennant and was able to recover the board without even getting my knees wet. Yep, it's broken. For the rest of the trip, the centerboard formed an impromptu cockpit grating. Interestingly enough, I found that without a centerboard in the housing the cockpit drain becomes a decorative fountain while under way. Some rags stuffed into the drain kept it mostly closed.
The rest of the day was spent generally lazing around St Michaels and the boat, and the evening was brightened when a friend arrived unexpectedly aboard his Pacific Seacraft 27 footer. I passed the night rafted up to his boat which felt, in comparison, like a large building - it doesn't move when you step aboard.
The next day was the long trip. From St Michaels to Galesville on the West River via Knapps Narrows. The first hour or so involved motoring down to the open part of the Choptank River, where I found a fleet of work boats tonging for oysters. On a day like that (light wind, pleasant temperature, clear skies) it looked idyllic, but hard work. On a cold wet day with the boat jumping all over the place it must be just hard work.
Shortly afterwards I happened on a Skipjack under sail. What a splendid sight! And how lucky to see a working craft under sail. Knapps Narrows turned out to be no problem, and I was soon out in the open bay on a broad reach with a freshening wind. I regretted not having made lunch beforehand because the boat was jumping around too much to do other than eat handfuls of stuff. Although the Montgomery is an amazingly sea-kindly craft it is only 15 feet long and fairly light. It cannot help but be lively. By the time I arrived at Galesville I had been under way for nine hours, some of them quite bouncy, and was getting a little tired.
The lack of a centerboard had definitely affected the boat, but the shoal keel was enough to sail pretty well. Come to think of it, that's all that many such boats ever have.
So... what did I learn? A 15 foot boat is plenty large enough to make multi-day cruises, in fact if you approach it from the backpacking or kayak camping point of view it is pretty luxurious. The cabin of the Montgomery is comfortable, and I would have no qualms in going out on larger water in this boat. Is there room for two? Well, there is plenty of room for one, and I see no reason why another could not fit in. There are a few detail changes I'm going to make, including moving the anchor to a pulpit mount and moving the mainsheet to the transom so that it isn't in the middle of the companionway, but in general it's hard to believe how good that little boat is.
The 4-stroke motor is a big improvement on the 2-stroke. Although it isn't quieter or smoother the sound is less annoying - and it's nice to know that it's going to start. I know that a 2-stroke can be set up to start and run well, but it seems to be in the nature of the beast to be quirky.
I've lived in the Washington area for many years now, and the entire trip was within a short drive from home - but with my small sailboat I was able to see things that I would have missed if I lived here a hundred years. I also enjoy kayaking in this area, but the sailboat gives me the added freedom of stopping without setting up camp. Perhaps I should use my 17 ft kayak as a tender to my 15ft sailboat.