Klintholmhavn, Møn Island, Denmark, 7:45pm, Wednesday, Aug 14

After a nice breakfast, the captain gathered us for our morning discussion about today’s destination. Although Annie and I were pulling for Copenhagen, the captain worried that if we went as far north as that or to Malmø, we might not have favorable winds for the southward trip back to Rostock. We’d potentially have to burn a lot of diesel, which is both expensive and the antithesis to the joy of sailing. His suggestion was Klimtholm, which was just a third of the distance of our prior day’s rough trip.

Now a couple German words:

Ostsee – literally “East Sea,” known in English as the Baltic Sea

As I explained in the previous post, the Baltic is relatively shallow, a lot being just between 5 and 15 meters (16-50 feet). The good news is that means the water is generally warmer and the waves smaller. The bad news is that the waves can come much closer together, and today was rough. Frank, who has sailed the Ostsee 4 times, said these were the biggest waves he’d experienced.

To my untrained eyes, they seemed not that big, maybe just 6-8 foot swells. But because they came so close together, our 40.5 meter (133 foot) craft bounced and crashed through them repeatedly, making our ride even rougher, though thankfully shorter than yesterday’s. Not thankfully for several passengers, who alternated between sitting outside, breathing fresh air and focusing on the horizon, or curling up on the padded benches inside, attempting to sleep through the tumult.

I was doing fine, until…

Sich übergeben – literally “to give oneself over,” the polite/medical term for throwing up

[like in English, there are countless slang terms in German for this mostly involuntary reflex]

I was wandering around the ship, going downstairs to fetch a jacket or cap, upstairs to offer seasickness medication, etc. Then I had to go to the bathroom. The onboard bathrooms are remarkably clean. But inside the cramped room with all walls and no window, the rolling, roiling seas provided a stirring and unsettling argument against my equilibrium. Moments later, I rushed to a sink, none too soon, returning to sender a generously prepared breakfast.

The crew, sympathetic and apologetic for a second day of discomfort for many, added diesel power to the sail power to hasten us more smoothly to our berth tonight.

Klintholmhavn is a tiny harbor, and as we lumbered toward the entrance, a large, dual-hulled ship plowed past us. I really couldn’t imagine how we were going to maneuver in this harbor, even without the other boat traffic. Indeed, one deck hand lowered the dinghy into the water and motored around to the bow, helping guide the front of the ship like a little tug boat.

So short was our berth that another deckhand clamored to the front of the bowsprit, which cleared a dockside streetlamp by mere feet. The dinghy, usually suspended at the stern, remained in the water, tied to the side of the ship as I think it would not fit between our stern and the next ship behind us!

As our hulking mass inched its way into the tight berth, an old dude on ground was motioning with his hands and in German and English urged us to move our ship forward. There were indeed, several meters in front of our bow before a perpendicular wall. Mind you, this was likely a visiting vacationer, not a mariner or local familiar with the harbor. Indeed, after we were securely moored, another sailing ship, similar in size to ours, parked along that perpendicular wall, mere feet in front of our ship. Annie had to laugh. It seems like there is always some guy everywhere in the world, trying to help you park, despite having little actual clue what is needed or possible.

Once moored, Annie and I quickly disembarked, happy to feel solid ground beneath our feet. Admittedly, it still felt like the ground was moving as I walked, and I could hear Carol King singing “I feel the earth move under my feet” for at least 10 minutes.

We walked a small circle through Klintholm, passing a couple small restaurants, a market, and a little outdoor food court.

License plates revealed summer vacationers from Germany, Denmark, Italy, Belgium, Sweden, Czech Republic, and more, and we passed a couple camping sites for tents and RVers.

We returned to the food court, and although we have dinner coming, we had both skipped lunch (and I had sent my breakfast back) so we sat down and had one of the best fish and chips we’ve had in years. Annie made a point to thank the owner.

Abel Tasman 2024 Blog Series:
Part 1: The Abel Tasman, 2024 Blog Series
Part 2: A Fresh Start with Sand and Stars
Part 3: A Water Swing and Pizza
Part 4: High Winds and Seas
Part 5: Tiny Cabins and a Chat with the Captain
Part 6: German Card Games
Part 7: Hiddensee Island
Part 8: Train Talk and Sunset
Part 9: Returning to Rostock

We had a long, windy sail from Wustrow, Germany to Rødvig, Denmark, longer than any one day trip on last year’s voyage. Winds were favorable, but port side waves made the ride a little rough for those with sensitive constitutions.

The Baltic Sea is relatively shallow, much of it only 5 – 15 meters (16-50 feet) deep. That means the waves are smaller, but closer together.

One of the crew climbed the mast while the great ship pitched and swayed through the water and attached a rope a cross beam near the top of the main mast. On the bottom they attached a small chair. With the ship keeling over to the port side, a person could sit in the chair and skim the waves.

We’d sit in the chair and swing out over the water rushing past us, swinging forward and backward and side to side, as the roiling water and swells would sometimes splash and crash into us. The 40.5-meter-long (133-foot) ship was doing about eight knots, which seemed very fast from the chair.

It looked really cold and I was trepidatious before initially springing out over the side. I was substantially larger and heavier than the previous folks, but the captain assured me the crossbeam should be able to support 200kg. Yes, but what about the knot, I wondered.

I strapped in and with little hesitation stepped overboard. It wasn’t cold, and like everyone else who tried it, I was all smiles and laughter as soon as I literally hit the water.

That evening was our turn to make dinner. Annie planned to make pizza and Caprese salad. She was feeling a little bit unsettled after the rough sail, but quickly recovered once we were safely moored in the harbor. Many people stepped up to volunteer with prep, slicing vegetables and cheese. I grated what was probably about 7-8 lbs. of cheese.

Annie had prepared the pizza dough the night prior. Watching how fast 7.5 kg (16.5 lbs.) of potatoes had been devoured during a previous meal, she decided to make a lot of dough. She used 3 kg (6.6 lbs.) of flour, and we had a bit of a challenge finding room in the onboard refrigerator for all the resulting dough to proof overnight.

She spread out the dough on seven sheets and quickly assembled the pizzas with all the previously prepared ingredients. The small kitchen on the ship was equipped with an efficient oven that could do three big pizzas at a time.

The crowd ate it all up! By the time the last pizza was delivered, a tiny bit of the salad was left, thoughtfully reserved by one of our friends to ensure we would have some to eat along with leftover pizza. People were happily stuffed by the time we came upstairs to have our meal, and Annie received a well-deserved rousing applause from the satiated diners.

Not sure where we are bound for today. Annie and I of course would love to go to Copenhagen, but it sounds like the majority are not interested in that since most have been there many times. We’ll see.

Abel Tasman 2024 Blog Series:
Part 1: The Abel Tasman, 2024 Blog Series
Part 2: A Fresh Start with Sand and Stars
Part 3: A Water Swing and Pizza
Part 4: High Winds and Seas
Part 5: Tiny Cabins and a Chat with the Captain
Part 6: German Card Games
Part 7: Hiddensee Island
Part 8: Train Talk and Sunset
Part 9: Returning to Rostock

We came aboard and slept Sunday night in Rostock, Germany. All our food was delivered the next morning, which took a while to inventory and find places to store in the fridges and dry storage containers.

Winds were light and unfavorable, so we motored up the Warnow river to Warnemünde, and then northeast to Wustrow, anchoring offshore. A few of us were taxied in a dinghy to shore to stroll the beach and a little of the coastal town during sunset. The sunset was gorgeous!

Far from big cities, the sky was dark and perfect for stargazing. Staying up late, we saw several great meteors from the Perseid shower and a constant string of satellites crisscrossing the Milky Way. A dull light grey haze on the horizon I assumed to be glare from city lights. But photographs taken revealed brilliant colors our eyes could not perceive of the Aurora Borealis.

Most of us sailed last year and have been quick studies learning/relearning the sails and lines. We hoisted and set sails like experienced hands under the supervision of the crew. I spent an hour or two on the wheel on the first day.

Like last year, I took advantage of the light winds and smooth seas to scale the 95-foot mast. Several followed me to the dizzying height.

This year’s crew was all Dutch captained by the ship’s owner. Most spoke German, though a couple prefer English. Everyone on board, passenger and crew spoke English and readily used it when desired. I translated as much as I could on the fly.

Abel Tasman 2024 Blog Series:
Part 1: The Abel Tasman, 2024 Blog Series
Part 2: A Fresh Start with Sand and Stars
Part 3: A Water Swing and Pizza
Part 4: High Winds and Seas
Part 5: Tiny Cabins and a Chat with the Captain
Part 6: German Card Games
Part 7: Hiddensee Island
Part 8: Train Talk and Sunset
Part 9: Returning to Rostock

I went sailing again on the Abel Tasman, a 111 year old, 133-foot long, twin masted Dutch schooner.

I wrote a 7-part blog series about my voyage last year. We all had such a good time, we urged our host to do it again. So, my friend, Frank, indulged us and organized another trip.

Last year we had 17 passengers. This year, all but one returned, and our numbers swelled to 22 as partners, children, and a few new friends joined us.

I was especially excited since this year the Abel Tasman would be departing from Rostock, a former East German city I had studied in 35 years ago before the fall of the Berlin Wall. I have a blog devoted to memories from that extraordinary experience. This would be my first time returning to that city.

Starting with several emails I wrote during the trip, I have edited, expanded, and added photographs to create this blog series.

I hope you enjoy it!

Abel Tasman 2024 Blog Series:
Part 1: The Abel Tasman, 2024 Blog Series
Part 2: A Fresh Start with Sand and Stars
Part 3: A Water Swing and Pizza
Part 4: High Winds and Seas
Part 5: Tiny Cabins and a Chat with the Captain
Part 6: German Card Games
Part 7: Hiddensee Island
Part 8: Train Talk and Sunset
Part 9: Returning to Rostock

Last year I had the wonderful experience sailing the Baltic Sea on a twin masted schooner, the Abel Tasman. I wrote about it in a 7-part blog series.

We all had such a good time we persuaded our host and my friend, Frank, into doing it again!

So. we’ll be setting sail in just a few weeks from Rostock, the former East German city in which I spent one semester studying before the fall of the Berlin Wall. I’ve blogged about my memories of that extraordinary experience as well.

We will embark on Sunday, Aug 11 and return to Rostock a week later on Aug 18.

As of this writing, the Abel Tasman set sail yesterday from Brest, France and is making her way up to the Netherlands, Denmark and eventually to Rostock.

We won’t know where we are sailing from day to day. On a typical morning, we will eat breakfast, and the captain will announce the forecasted winds and currents and show us a chart with possible destinations.

If you would like to track our progress, you may use this tool:
https://www.myshiptracking.com/?mmsi=245877000

Last weekend I was a judge at a robot competition.

This was my first time. A friend who was organizing the event asked if I would be willing to spend a day judging robot teams and I had to say, “yes!”

FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition in Science and Technology) is a global nonprofit founded in 1989 which engages students around the world, inspiring them to build robots and compete in team robot challenges.

The competition I judged was a “FIRST Tech Challenge” (FTC) for students from 7th to 12th grade and took place at Hillsboro High School. Student teams from Salem, Portland, Beaverton, West Linn, Cornelius and other cities attended. In total, there were about 20 teams consisting of four to over a dozen members.

Last September, the rules of the robot challenge were published. That gave teams only a few months to build, program, and perfect their robots. At the most basic level, this game required robots to collect “pixels” (plastic hexagons) from one corner of the arena and stack them on a board at the opposite corner. But there were several optional ways to score bonus points. Here is a 6-minute video describing the rules of the challenge, which are surprisingly complex.

The Game
Each match lasts 2.5 minutes. For the first 30 seconds, the robots may operate autonomously (if so built and programmed) and score points. At the 30 second mark, “drivers” pick up their controllers and take active command of their robots. Four robots are in the arena at a time. Teams are randomly paired together. For two and a half minutes, these teams work together to score the most points.

Judging
Each team is interviewed, and their robots inspected to make sure they comply with the rules. The teams provide judges with portfolios describing their team and the journey they went through designing, building, and perfecting their robots. Multiple categories are available for awards, both technical and non-technical.

The latter is where I came in. Although I work in Information Technology, I am neither an engineer nor a programmer, and I have never built or controlled a robot. So, I was assigned to judge teams in two non-technical categories: “Connect” and “Motivate.” Each team is encouraged to do outreach to foster more interest and participation in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math), raise funds, and serve their communities.

One after another, each team marched in, gave us a 5-minute presentation introducing themselves and their robot followed by about 10 minutes of questions from the judges. After seeing all our teams, the judges shared notes and compiled follow-up questions. We then visited those teams back at the “pit” area where they prepared (and sometimes repaired) their robots for their next matches.

Overall, the number one value of this entire competition is Gracious Professionalism®. One question I asked each team is what this term meant to them and how their team embodied this value. Their answers were thoughtful and inspiring.

In between interviews I was able to catch a match or two. Announcers called out robot numbers, noting scoring attempts and actions. Cheers and shouts of encouragement echoed through the hall just like you might hear at football or other sporting event.

Awards Ceremony
The judging scores were compiled and ranked just as the final matches were completed and the game arenas dismantled. Teams of students and their parents waited anxiously as the judges filed out of our room to present the awards.

We judges took turns announcing each award category and winners. After collecting their awards, the winning teams passed the line of judges receving congratulatory high-fives.

Conclusion
The day was long yet exhilarating. I was amazed and inspired by the tremendous achievements of these kids — even those teams whose robots weren’t able to accomplish everything they attempted or who failed mid-competition. The cheers that erupted from the crowd were just as enthusiastic and fervent as at any athletic competition, and the genuine camaraderie and support between the teams was moving.

Back when I was in high school, the closest thing to celebrated academic competition was College Bowl.

The level of technical challenge, the fund raising, and community outreach displayed by these kids really gives me excitement and optimism for the future, which is in the hands of these young engineers and scholars.

If this sounds interesting to you, there is no shortage of opportunity to take part. Volunteers are needed at all levels (much more than just judging). Sponsorship and mentoring plays a huge role in the success of this endeavor. Check out the FIRST website and/or talk to people at your area schools to see if they participate in this program and what, if anything you can do to contribute and support.

Postscript
My friend coaches 8610 ToborTech, a team which last Saturday scored the 5th highest score in the world and 2nd highest in the U.S. Here you can see the amazing match:

Today I fixed my microwave.

Why fix a 19 y.o. microwave? Why not?

If something could be repaired, I’d rather do that than buy a new one — I wouldn’t have to pay for a new microwave and its installation as well as deal with the removal and disposal of the old one. And old appliances seem to be more durably built than those today, the latter of which seem to be designed to fail after only a handful of years.

Here’s my full story:

1. Things start to go haywire:
The touch pad buttons on my microwave started to act up. There is one button that turns on the light and another that turns on the exhaust fan. Sometimes, pressing the light button, the fan would come on (sometimes the light too). I’d have to press the button repeatedly until the desired combination of light and fan was achieved. It was a minor irritation.

But then the number keys started to act up. Pressing one number might work, but the numbers on the display might change to a completely different number. It was at this point I decided something needed to be done.

2. Researching the problem and possible solution
The main parts of the oven (the microwave and turntable) were fine. I suspected the touchpad and/or circuitry were starting to go bad. Maybe I could replace them? (I was successful a couple years back fixing a washing machine door, which I wrote about here).

I took a picture of the label with the model (General Electric JVM1630BJ01), serial number, and manufacture date (July, 2004) and searched Google.

I quickly found a site that showed a schematic with pictures of the various parts and their part numbers. Unfortunately, my microwave was too old to find new replacement parts, but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

I noted the specific part number for the control panel and searched Google and eBay for it. I found the used part for sale on eBay. But would I be able to do the repair myself?

I next went to YouTube and searched for videos explaining how to replace the circuit board and touch pad for a GE microwave. I quickly found videos showing how to do it, and it looked like a pretty simple task: remove a couple screws to remove a vent cover, then remove another screw or two to loosen the control pad panel, disconnect some wires, then reverse the process with a replacement panel.

The used replacement circuit board/control panel was going to cost about $60. Because it was both the control panel and the circuit board, I would be able to skip a lot of the steps in the video above.

It wasn’t guaranteed to work, but I had decent confidence it would. And it would be a lot cheaper and less time-consuming than buying a new microwave and doing the removal of the old and installation of the new. I decided to take the gamble and give it a try.

3. Taking the plunge
I ordered the used part from eBay and waited. It arrived a week later. Holding it up in front of the microwave made it clear I had ordered the correct part.

It was time to do the operation.

I turned off the circuit breaker for the microwave and within minutes had removed the vent cover — which revealed an unsettling accumulation of nearly 20 years’ worth of grease.

One more screw removed, and the control panel was loose.

I recorded detailed notes of all the wire connections, then carefully disconnected the various wires from the old panel and completely removed it. I then held the replacement panel up and connected the wires into it.

Securing the panel with a screw, I went to the circuit breakers and turned the power back on.

Voila! The panel immediately illuminated. I set the clock and pressed the fan and light buttons repeatedly, and all operated normally. Running the microwave also worked fine.

I took the opportunity to soak and clean the greasy vent panel as well as clean the grease off the exposed inner surface of the microwave before reattaching the vent and securing the screws.

Apart from cleaning the grease, the entire repair took me about 30 minutes.

I can’t guaranty your appliance repairs will go this quickly or smoothly (I have had some repairs take days to complete). But I do encourage you to at least do a little searching on Google and YouTube when something starts to fail before rushing out to buy a completely new appliance.