The wind was northwest yesterday on the Delaware River, the sky was a crisp blue and the foliage along the banks was electrified by some of the brightest oranges and yellows I've seen in this region, where atumn usually is a subdued tapestry.
So, of course, I took Bluebird out for a sail at two o'clock instead of going to Home Depot for a new garbage disposal.
There was quite a bit of water in the bilge and in the cabin, and that required using the electric pump to drain Bluebird of most of her burden. The pump always leaves some water, and I've learned to accept the everpresent sloshing.
With the sails raised, I headed with the current but against the wind, tacking downstream two miles past the little city of Beverly. I sailed until I reached a Pearson 28 that was sailing toward me. As if by plan, with both came about as we met, reversing our directions  and leaving each other behind. The sail upstream was with the wind, Bluebird at times was on a broad reach, at other times on a run, as we sailed the four miles to the Burlington-Bristol Bridge.
I sailed in close to the Red Dragon Canoe Club dock, where friend Bob was returning the launch. We exchanged greetings as Bluebird glided past in a breeze that carried gusts of about fifteen knots. I kept a good watch for other traffic. There were occasional powerboats, whose  captains waved as they sped by.
The sun was in the final quarter of its daily arc when Bluebird came about just upstream of the bridge and began sailing a saw-toothed track of long starboard tacks downstream and shorter port tacks across the stream.
Sitting low in the snug cockpit, I was content. Smug may be more correct, for I admit to feeling not only one with the wind but in some ways on an elevated plane compared with the rest of humanity.
Then, on a long starboard tack, I noticed a problem. The mast is supported by six slender stainless steel cables, one rising from the bow to part way up the front of the mast, a second attached to the stern and the top of the mast and, on each side, two called shrouds that keep the mast from falling  to the opposite side. On a starboard tack, the wind is pushing the sail -- and thus the mast -- to port, so the starboard shrouds have all the tension. The port shrouds are slack.
What I saw was that the "upper" port shroud was detached from its base on the deck, swinging gently out over the water. The shackle with which I'd pinned the bottom of the shroud to the deck fixture was still hanging from the "eye" at the bottom of the shroud, and its threaded pin -- which had worked free, allowing the shroud to detach from the deck fixture --was for the moment still held by one side of the shackle.
I had to laugh at my contenetment of a moment earlier.
I also had to do something or the mast would fall.
I let the sails flutter, making sure the tiller was pushed so that Bluebird wouldn't go on a port tack. Then I bent over the side and attempted to reattach the wandering shackle through the shroud eye and the deck fixture. Hard as I tugged, I was unable to stretch the shroud enough for the pin to reach the hole in the deck fixture. So I attached the shackle itself to the fixture and then, with a short piece of line that I use to tie up the mainsail when it's not in use, I put a rolling hitch around the shroud and passed the other end of the line through the shackle and tugged and tied it tight. For the time being the shroud was now stabalized and I could  sail on a port tack.
With that, Bluebird made it to the dock, where I fashioned a more stable connection between the shroud and the deck fitting, not a permanent solution but one that should keep the mast upright until I can get a proper pin.
What I learned is that you should never have a threaded  pin holding up the rigging because there is always a risk of that pin backing out, as this one did. And that reminded me that Robin, our ocean-going boat, has always had some of its shrouds held in place by bolts and nuts. I'll need to replace those with proper pins, too.