Harts At Sea

Balance is Good

I admire people who lead a “balanced life”--whatever that may be. I tend to tip the teeter-totter in one direction or another. This past summer, I wrote and played, and wrote about playing. No boat projects were completed. Since we’ve been in St. Thomas I’ve socialized and cleaned. After two weeks of nearly nighty dinners out with friends and family, I’ve focused this week on cleaning the boat. So far I’ve cleaned out the pilot berth area and two shelf-lockers, skewer cleaned the galley, washed and stored clothing items (more on that later), washed the teak walls and the sole (floor) of the boat, cleaned out a number of the galley cupboards, and defrosted the freezer.

This is all good, but not balanced. I’m sure too much cleaning and organizing is bad for a person.  A few months ago I wrote a list for balanced boat maintenance. The idea was to remind me which things needed to be tackled daily, weekly, and monthly. At fifty-five years of age, you’d think I’d know. I do know, but I don’t do and to know and not to do is not to know. I hate that.

So in that wonderful list of accomplished “boathold” tasks, did you see writing anywhere? Neither did I. For a number of days ( A week? Really?)  I haven’t written a thing except lists. This is a pattern for me. When we moved out of the house nearly ten years ago, I went through some boxes of memorabilia from college and from the first few years after graduation. Know what I found? Lists. Lists of things to do, to make, to renovate, to fix, to try, to tour, to purchase, to learn. I found multiple lists, all created a couple of years apart, and none of them had a relationship to any other of them. Some things remained the same, other items appeared, still others were contradictory. Though I never read Shakespeare, or achieved my high school weight, I did accomplish something on each list – but many other things remained a challenge. I think “balance the checkbook” appeared every time.

That isn’t balanced, either.

Know what I purchased last week? A book for lists. I wanted to find filler paper for my small Rollo binders, but that didn’t happen. So I bought a small notebook and used small post-it notes to divide it into categories. (Aren’t your lists categorized?) I currently have five categories:

1. Short-term To Do (This includes weekly groceries.)
2. Long-term To Do (Featuring stuff on the Grenada To-Do list, which I didn’t accomplish because I just wrote and played.)
3. Destination Info
4. Boat Project Blog (Now there’s something that’s long overdue.)
5. Master Shopping/Provision list (We are heading to Puerto Rico after Christmas and I want to make sure I get everything we need that can’t be purchased in the Eastern Caribbean, like short pants for me.)

This is kind of balanced – if I keep it up and include writing 1000 words a day as part of my plan. And if I can hold that writing goal to 1000 words a day. Once I get started, I sometimes don’t stop. Why write one blog post when five are dancing around in my head? Who needs to eat dinner anyway? Can you say “popcorn for suppah”?

One of my recent excuses/challenges is that a part on my Wi-Fi antenna had to be replaced and took two weeks to get here. We have to take the laptop in to Internet cafes for Wi-Fi, and that means we have to transport the laptop in an inflatable-floor dinghy with a floor that doesn’t’ stay inflated. It’s a bit on the damp side. We have a dry bag that accommodates the camera, but not one to fit the laptop. (That item is on the Master Shopping List.) So, I don’t like to take the laptop in, and have been waiting – and not writing.  Not only is that not balanced, it’s just defeatist.

Speaking of not balanced – I’ve been wondering why I have a full clothes locker and nothing to wear. This is why. It seems that I never stored the cold weather clothing after leaving Hampton, Virginia last year. If there ever is a cold (40 degree) day in St. Thomas and south, I’m ready. That’s ridiculous. Our one hanging locker was also full of heavy vests and EW’s favorite L.L. Bean parka. (He would not let it go.) This explains why EW joined me in doing three double loads of laundry today. Now that the winter clothes are clean and dry, we’re compacting them in to vacuum bags and EW is going to find room for them under our bed.

Guess you can take the girl out of Maine, but not without her L.L. Bean sweaters and vests.

I can categorically state that my cleaning frenzy is over. There are still things that need doing, but I’m going to tackle them over a few weeks, write, socialize, do boat projects, and enjoy the islands. I have a plan and I’ve put it on the list. Yeah. That’ll work.

Wishing you balance. If you find the secret, please let me know. It’s time I got the hang of it.

Final Note:  Talking with Carrie, an experienced cruiser, I told her of my cleaning frenzy and about cleaning out my clothes locker. “Guess what I found?” I said. “A heavy sweater?” she replied.

A heavy sweater? One of them? Obviously she’s not from Maine—she’s from Florida. Wait ‘til she sees these photos.

Thugs Aren’t Pirates

Inevitably, when we talk with those who aren’t cruising under sail, someone will ask about pirates. One of our Buddy Boaters said that her mother will ask, “Have you seen any pirates, yet?” just as if we expect to see a schooner under sail, flying the Jolly Roger.

Well, actually, we have seen “pirate ships” but those usually have seating for fifty or more invited (paying) “crew”, songs, grog (with and without alcohol) and at least one Johnny Depp look-a-like. We do not see, nor do we expect to be attacked by, pirates in the Caribbean.

However, we were very distressed to learn that folks we'd met recently were attacked on their boat at anchor in the Tobago Cays. Kate and Allen have lived the cruising life for the past 20 years, and are outstanding people and excellent sailors. We had heard about the attack on them from a number of cruising radio nets and from other cruisers. Now, they've taken the time to write a detailed account of what happened, what they could have done differently, and what they (and others) did correctly. This has been posted on Noonsite, The Global Site of Cruising Sailors.

It’s a lengthy report, one that I think should be read by every cruising sailor or prospective cruising sailor. I admire Kate and Allen for what they've accomplished as sailors and because they are genuinely nice people, and EW and I agree with their conclusions. While we all know that there is truly a concern about piracy in some areas of the world, most cruising sailors need to focus more about taking precautions against bad guys breaking into their boat or robbing them on the street. I often remind our friends and family that there are bad guys everywhere – from my hometown of Newport, Maine, to Portland, to New York and San Francisco. Don’t romanticize the ones I could meet in the Caribbean by calling them pirates. They are thugs, just like the bad guys who are detailed in the crime pages back home.

If you don’t choose to read the entire article by Kate and Allen, let me duplicate their final thoughts here as their words describe how EW and I feel.

The people of this planet are extraordinarily kind and generous and they invite us into their lives and share their meals and their world. From a little Masai Village in the Serengeti to an Engineers Elegant home in Borneo we have been welcomed. This is the life we choose.

We have always liked the following prose:

“I see before me fathomless depths
And far flung distances; vastness beyond vast
I see names of places, transcendental spaces, strange faces
I see routes across the earth
Well-tracked routes of famous people
They say “Come, I have been here, the way is not safe,
But death stalks surely where you now reside
And boredom, deaths brother.”

…Unknown

 EW and I don’t know how much of the world we will see during the years we sail, but we have met wonderful people from Tony and his cousin Anna and her family in Luperon, to Debra and Vanessa and Elvis in Rodney Bay, to Cheryl and Winfield in Bequia. The islands are lovely, the sailing is fun and the people are wonderful. This is the life we choose as well.

Anniversary 2011

St. Lucia 2011

Underway in the North Atlantic, 2010

Christmas Morning, 2010 heading toward Bimini

Blue Hole, Bahamas 2011

Church Parade Bahamas, 2011

Brunch on Board, Bahamas 2011

Our Selfish Lifestyle at Sea

I once told EW that this lifestyle seemed a bit aimless to me. What is our purpose? During a recent conversation with a family member, I said that taking off  as we have done is a bit selfish. He disagreed and said we were living our lives and following our dreams.

That’s true, but traveling away from friends, family, neighborhoods, and organizations that we’ve supported requires us to let go of some “shoulds”. Friends help friends move, provide a shoulder to cry on, and open the champagne for celebrations. Family members go to doctor appointments, take care of kids, gather for holidays, and for bake beans for funerals. Good citizens volunteer, serve on boards, and stay involved. We’re no longer available to participate in person, and there have been months when we aren’t available by phone. As one girlfriend said during a call today, “You are happier when you are connected.” No kidding. (I love Puerto Rico, in part, because of U.S. ATT on the iPhone)

We miss our friends and family, I’ve found that easier to cope with than knowing how much they miss us. Having us leave wasn’t their choice, but they must deal with the consequences and that makes me feel selfish. Our son, Mo, lives across the country and  he’s a sailor, adventurer and traveler so he was the easiest person to tell. Our parents had passed away, and that makes this easier for us than it is for other boaters. One woman told me that her otherwise independent mom cries every time they talk on the phone.  These folks are going to store their boat during hurricane season and immerse themselves in friends and family for four months. Two different boaters who have built homes in Luperon have moved their 90 year old moms to the island with great success. When we bought our boat, one of my mom’s dear friends congratulated us and said, “I think this a great thing, but I’m sure glad you waited until your mom was gone before you did it.” No kidding. My sister and her husband, as has EW’s sister, immediately recognized the boat as our home. My sister made this for us the Christmas after we moved aboard.

Whether we travel by boat, RV, or plane, those of us who have opted for this lifestyle understand that we are giving up daily and weekly contact with friends and family, and it’s important that we understand that those same folks are making sacrifices as well – but they didn’t get to make the decision. Are you traveling far from home? Have you moved to another country for your retirement? Do you sometimes feel selfish? I’d welcome your thoughts.

This weighs more heavily on me than it does on EW, but he’s a nice guy and doesn’t diminish my feelings. He hugs me, and we call everyone we can when we have cell coverage. We’re sorry and we miss you, but we are loving this life.

This plaque was a going away present from my college roommates and their families – my honorary nieces and nephews. This kind of support, makes the journey possible for me.

Mr. Romance is Not a Hunter-Gatherer

I love EW. Truly and with all my heart. He will attempt to fix nearly anything on board and is successful most of the time. But I have never seen him land a fish.

He landed one when he crossed the Atlantic with Chuck and Diane. Here's the photo. It gave me hope. I believed with all my heart that EW would follow the thousands of other cruisers who have gone before and provide for us from the sea’s bounty. I was ready. I purchased rice for sticky rice and sushi and limes for seveche. I collected seafood recipes and made sure I had stocked up on the normal necessary ingredients. I read articles and books by other sailors – about how they never used the canned meats they’d packed because they caught so much seafood. I believed.

 

 

Prior to leaving Maine, EW got gear. He wanted a chest harness so he could fight the big ones, but I suggested we should start a bit smaller. He got a “yo-yo” rig, gloves, lures, a gaff, and filled one of my spray bottles with cheap booze for a humane kill. (Evidently one squirts rotgut into the fish’s gills and they die immediately. No muss, no fuss, no fish flopping all over deck and cockpit. He put his gear into a large tote and called it his “Fish Fear Me Bag”. Really.

He started fishing when we left Maine on October 18th. Nothing.

From October to March, not one fish took his line. We would buddy boat with other sailors in the Bahamas and hear about the fish they caught. We’d listen in on radio conversations and hear, “Fish on! Can’t talk now!”  We’d meet cruisers who had traveled the same track we had on the same day and caught a nice mahi-mahi or sea bass.

Furthermore, we went conching with cruisers who had easily harvested conch in thigh high water throughout the Berry Islands. Nothing. On another memorable day in the Exumas we went in search of conch and lobster with Dave and Aimee from Crow’s Nest. EW (and I) can’t dive very deep. I’m not that good a swimmer and EW can’t clear his ears – so I’m not complaining that EW didn’t get a conch in 12 feet of water. That’s above and beyond, in my opinion and Amiee and Dave did share their catch. EW helped them clean it and I cooked dinner. When the three of them took dinghies in to shore for the cleaning of the conch, I stayed on La Luna. Aimee used her noodle and goggles to swim ashore – and caught 3 conch in 3 feet of water. EW blithely motored over their bed and didn’t harvest anything. Apparently live seafood doesn’t speak to him.

Cleaning conch is icky and hard and it turns out we aren’t in love with it so I voluntarily withdrew all requests for conch. On Valentine’s Day in Georgetown, I bought lobster tails from the hair salon (I love that!) and made a wonderful dinner using a recipe from  An Embarrassment of Mangoes by Ann Vanderhoof. Perfect.  Ann and her husband, Steve,  traveled from Eastern Canada to Grenada. He fished all the way – even learned how to toss a shrimp net. After two years they returned to Canada with all canned protein on board and untouched.  He speared fish, he lassoed lobster, he found conch, and on the way home he caught fish. Lots of fish. (While in the islands they bought fish, listening for the conch horn to let folks know when a fresh catch was in. I’m not in the right islands for that.)

Ann didn’t talk a lot about fishing off the boat until near the end of the book in a chapter entitled “Beautiful Babe Spit”. (That is not a typo.) They were returning north and competing in a fishing contest with a buddy boat. Ann and Steve were well back on the fishing points scale, when they stopped in at Culebra to meet up again with Cleo. …”a courtly man with the look of a longtime sailor. Lithe, attentive, with laughing eyes --- a real ladies’ man, my mother would have said –- white haired and well-read.” Over dinner Cleo described how he had taken a Grenadian girl fishing and had “explained the secret of successful fishing to her. If a pretty lady spits on the lure before it goes into the water, she will almost certainly catch a fish.”

That tickled me and you will have to read the book to see the results, but let’s just say that Ann’s wise and romantic husband assured his wife she was beautiful and asked her to spit on the lure for the remainder of the trip. It worked very well.

I read this to EW early in our voyage. He chuckled. He caught no fish. He talked with people about lures; he let out more line; he let out less line; he fished at different depths and speeds. He fished from Maine to the Turks and Caicos and never caught a fish and never --- not once --- asked his wife to spit on the lure. Mo will read this before we tell him the story, and right now he is thinking, “Way to go, Dad. Mr. Romance strikes, again.” Or something like that. EW is not always quick on the romance uptake. So, a couple of months into the trip, I mention the “Beautiful Babe Spit” and he looked appropriately chagrined – but still, never once asked me to anoint his lure.

Until last week. We were on our way to the Dominican Republic and I had suggested with a bit of attitude that it was “too damn bad that he didn’t have a beautiful wife” to anoint his lure. Finally – five months after leaving Maine he got it. Now, it must be said that then he had a momentary relapse. He took his “Fish Fear Me Bag” to the aft deck and started getting things ready, saying he’d call me when it was time. A few minutes later I saw him paying out the line. “You ready?” I asked sweetly. “Oh, yes!  Just getting the lure wet!” He said as he rapidly reeled it back in. After I stopped laughing, I went aft, created a mouthful of saliva and spit on the lure and hook. He called me his beautiful bride and we both went back to the cockpit.

The photo at left is EW stating that he was just getting the line wet. Right. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t form the words.

 

About two hours later, I looked aft and said, “I think you have a fish!” He did. A beautiful mahi-mahi, probably about three pounds. He reeled it in and I got the camera and the gaff. Then we made a fatal error for which I share the responsibility.  As he lifted the fish out of the water, he said, “Get a photo!” not “Get the Gaff!” I complied and we lost the fish – and didn’t get the photo.

We’ve only had a very short opportunity since, sailing close to shore on the way to Luperon, but you can bet he remembered to call me beautiful and ask me to spit.

I believe.

Food Storage on a Sailboat

We’ve lived aboard for nearly nine years, and food storage was an early priority. On the day we toured the boat, i let EW know that if he wanted to eat I was appropriating most of the port settee area for food storage. Since that time, I’ve been refining my storage system and accumulating more space for food items. EW insists on eating every day.

I’d planned food storage, purchased shallow tubs to help keep items from spilling, cleaned and painted the compartment and thought we had it right. The long settee (couch and spare single bed) along the port side had quite accessible storage underneath. Galley items take up two thirds of the space, and I graciously allowed EW to use the other third for heavy tools. (See, I can be flexible.) In order to get to the space, we would  lift or bend the cushion, hold up the plywood cover with one hand, or have a helper hold it as we found and removed our items.  Or we removed all three cushions and the plywood to allow for hands-free access.

 

It never occurred to me that there was a better way until we got the insurance survey back. That survey requires us to screw or fasten all lids and floorboards that could fly if LaLuna goes the wrong way up in a big storm. We don’t expect to be in that situation, but EW worked in Fort Lauderdale to comply with the insurance company. He knew screwing down that settee cover wasn’t going to work as I need to get into it at least once a day. The solution was to attach a hinge to the back of the board and slide bolts to the front to lock the board in place.

The photo at left shows the area – and gives you a preview of the the ultimate solution.

 

As he was planning the project, I had a brainstorm. (Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it causes heavy sighs and much eye-rolling.) This time it was a good thing – it meant more work for EW but he was cheerful about it.

I asked him to hinge the galley cover so that it would open over each storage compartment, not along the whole length of the settee. Then I asked him to hinge it 5 inches out from the back of the settee, to allow the seat cushion to stay up in back. It was brilliant, I tell you. Brilliant!

Since we are at sea, with few power tools, EW used his very special Japanese hand saw and patiently cut the board into four sections:

1. The section over his tools, which we needed to have open fully.
2. One piece along “my” two-thirds, 5 inches wide.
3. The two lids over the galley section.

At right, Tools and Galley One are open and all cushions are removed.

How I wish we’d thought of this 8 years ago! This complies with our safety requirements, preventing cans and tools from flying  around the boat in the event of a knock down. Since I don’t anticipate a knock-down, I am more thrilled with the ease of access I now have under the settee.

 

 

The photo at left shows one easily opened cupboard with all cushions still on the settee. That works for quick access. When I am storing or digging for supplies, I can take the two back cushions off and the lids and settee seat stay up.

 

As EW says, “We eat tonight!”

Smaller is Better When You Live Aboard a Boat (Or, Cathy Was Right)

Ever since we moved aboard the La Luna eight and a half years ago, our friends have been very supportive. One friend tickled us because she kept looking for things that would “fit” our new lifestyle and came up with bread mixes that only needed one ingredient, coats that zipped into a pocket, and a travel towel from L.L. Bean.

I have to confess that I was not enamored with that travel towel. In private, we smirked a bit and exclaimed “But this is our home! We use regular towels!” Indeed, when our plush green towels started showing wear, we purchased even more plush white and buff towels, 60 inches long. We even had a set for guests.

Then Margo (world cruiser and one of the folks I listen to with rapt attention) said, “You know you can’t take those towels when you cruise, don’t you?” EW was more stricken than I and I was struck dumb. “Really?”. “No, you can’t. They will take ages to dry in the tropics and will  mildew.” Ick.

So I did some research on microfiber towels. (You know where this is going, don’t you?) I found the towels on Amazon for a good price, but the size I wanted didn’t have hanging tags and then I found the same towels just down the road at L.L. Bean. EW and I took a short road trip before we left Maine and picked up two sets of microfiber towels so we have a set for guests. They really do dry us well, and they dry very quickly. They’ll be easy to wash out on the boat when we are far from a laundry-matt.

And they take up a lot less space. Here are two lovely plush towels with two lovely flat micro-fiber towels on top of them.

And here they are with one vacuum bagged plush towel. EW wouldn’t let me get rid of them, so they’re stored under our bed. This is supposed to be a long cruise and I wonder if they will still be usable (or important) eight years from now.

From Maine to Florida in 60 Days and 15 Projects (Sort of)

 

We left Maine on October 18, sailed (and powered) over 1500 miles to reach Fort Lauderdale. This evening, December 18, we will leave Florida for the Bahamas. After 1500 miles in 2 and three day passages down the U.S. Coast, we will travel for fewer than 20 hours to reach a foreign country.  EW says we have been “on a delivery” taking the boat from one place to another, fixing and installing things as we go. We’ve had fun (and a lot of it) but we’ve also done a lot of work on La Luna – some planned and some decidedly not.  We know we will still fix and install items once we leave the states. Boaters everywhere have heard the phrase that cruising is the opportunity to fix your boat in the most beautiful harbors in the world. All of them. But things will be different from now on. EW has agreed to – and proposed – some new guidelines for our cruising lifestyle.

So – in addition to reaching St. Augustine in time for Thanksgiving with CK and UA and their family, and reaching Fort Lauderdale to see our son, Mo (formerly known as Favorite, he’s now given permission for me to use his name here) what have we done?

As we sailed down the coast:

In Cuttyhunk EW fixed the bilge pump. Definitely not planned but the high water alarm is quite the wake up call!

In Portland, Cuttyhunk, and in New Jersey, EW worked on the furnace, which apparently repaired itself as we moved south. (To you who think we don’t need it anymore, there has been a cool spell in Florida and we also use it to heat water year round. It’s a wonderful thing.)

In New Jersey he installed the new wash down pump as the old one had been shorting out. I would switch on the windlass and the wash down pump, go on deck and raise the anchor, washing the mud off of the chain. During our first effort at leaving Sandy Hook (muddy bottom) I had to go back below to restart the wash down pump 4 times. He put the new one in. Eventually that one will include a fresh water option and a faucet for salt water at the galley sink. All in good time.

In Hampton, EW installed the Wind Generator and the hoist for the dinghy outboard. He also ran wires for the Single Sideband and GPS. I pulled old wires out, and as you may recall I didn’t like that job. Prior to that he had a major unplanned project in Hampton when he discovered broken bolts on the auto pilot hydraulic ram.

In Hampton he also changed the oil and he changed it again in St. Augustine.

And also in Hampton, EW installed the old fresh water pump because the new one died. However, when he called ITT Jabsco, the wonderful customer service person arranged to have a new pump sent to us. We got it in Florida.

At Cumberland Island, and during our wonderful visit in St. Augustine we took a break from major projects but EW still managed to install a new gasket on the aft lazarette and I repaired the jib.

In Fort Lauderdale, EW completed the projects required by our insurance: installed floor anchors, installed GFI protected outlets, screwed down the bunks and settees, and covered the 120 volt breaker panel. He also devised and installed a system to hold down the sewing machine so it doesn’t bang around, and he serviced the main sail outhaul winch.

As part of the bolting/screwing the settee covers so they won’t fly around if we tip (don’t worry, we don’t plan to tip that far!) EW kindly and expertly made modifications at my request. There will be a post with photos. Can’t believe I didn’t think of this 8 years ago.

In Fort Lauderdale, I installed new shelving in what had been two hanging lockers in our stateroom, and repaired the sail again. (This time on-deck where I could see the entire leech.) 

Also in Fort Lauderdale EW and I repaired the chock that had been pulled out during a docking fiasco in St. Augustine. This project took 12 sailor hours (in lieu of man hours) and generated some spectacular bruises on my body. I’m the one who gets to squeeze around the furnace. EW’s on-deck tasks required brute strength and the ability to work with 5200 adhesive sealant without getting it where it doesn’t belong.

At nearly every port, but particularly in Fort Lauderdale, we divested ourselves of more clothes and stuff. This photo is a dinghy full of clothes and items destined for a homeless shelter. I had already gotten rid of a million plastic hangers and a large cooler. Now that we think it is warm enough, I vacuum bagged the cold weather clothing we are keeping and stored them under our bed.

If you’re a boater, you know how much mess is generated by each of these projects. Sometimes on-deck projects (such as the chock repair) don’t require any space below decks. More often projects, such as running wires, involve the master stateroom, engine compartment, chart table and galley. To that add all the tools and parts that get laid out (or scattered) in the main salon and you’ll realize that a lot of our time at anchor or on the dock has been spent in a boat that was cluttered, to put it mildly.

In Hampton, I took this photo. This is why we took pizza to a neighboring boat for dinner. No one was setting foot on La Luna.

Each time we stopped, we (or EW) would undertake a project. Each time we left for the next port, we had to spend hours getting the boat ready for sea. In Fort Lauderdale, EW did most of the project work and I ran errands. We also provisioned for the Bahamas. So we added a new layer of mess with $500.00 of food and $100.00 of beer (EW’s contribution.)

I had a hissy fit.

We spent two days cleaning the boat, and the result is amazing. We have our boat back. We even have room for guests as the forward cabin is no longer full of things to be installed or stored. Anything that requires a home has one. Anything that needs to be installed is in the pilot berth. We have our boat back, just in time for cruising.

And the new guidelines for projects, now that we will be cruisers?

1. Work on the boat and write in the morning.

2. Swim and snorkel.

3. Be a tourist.

4. Sundowners and dinner.

I’m looking forward to it!

The Cruising Life: It's Not Always Fun in the Sun

This has been an interesting week. Much of it has been good, but some of it has been frustrating and I must confess that my normal good humor seemed to disappear for hours at a time. The reality is that all of the problems are solvable. 

Our navigation software is down. Since the manufacturer and the support team are in France, it is a bit of a challenge to contact them. They needed me to download a debug software, and we didn't have reliable wifi on the hook. So we are at Southport Raw Bar before they open. They charge boaters $10.00 to tie their dinghy -- and give you a receipt for $10.00 of food and drink. Not a bad deal, actually.  We may scoot back to the boat to complete some high priority tasks and come back later today for dinner. 

So, getting things like this done takes longer. Getting a lot of things done takes longer. But we get to enjoy people and experiences that we'd otherwise miss.  Essentially, I still need to learn to chill. Chilling is easy here today. Back in the fleece jackets as it was in the 40's this AM.

The must-do projects include stowing the provisions we took on board and stowing a lot of things that have been left out while EW has worked on Boat Projects. We will have to come to an understanding about taking a one or two day break between projects as major projects encompass main salon, galley, and master stateroom, leaving me no place to go but on deck and no way to so my projects, clean, or cook.  It makes me testy. Very.

So. Today we will get everything stowed. We will. It will happen. Then we will come back here and reward ourselves.  I can get behind that. Funny how we all let little things get us down. In the general scheme of things none of these problems matter.  We will soon be cruising in the Bahamas. We are moving forward to fulfill our dreams. That is what matters. 

I have notes and photos and will write posts to catch you all up on a wonderful Thanksgiving, friends in Jacksonville, and fun times in Fort Lauderdale. Life is good. Best to all of you.

You Have Nothing to Fear but Cape Fear Itself.

Written on Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I have the watch on a nearly perfect Wednesday afternoon. The wind is blowing 20 - 30 knots from the west. We're 60 miles offshore from South Carolina, beating down to Cumberland Island Georgia under a reefed main and jib. The mess in the cabin below and the splint on my finger are the only evidence that today is the reward for having conquered Cape Fear yesterday. 

We still aren't sure how we so badly miss-judged the weather. I want to talk to a meteorologist I know to ask him what we did wrong and to learn about Capes, such as Fear, Hatteras, Good Hope.  We will sail around many capes during our cruise and sailing near Cape Elizabeth in Maine was not adequate preparation. Perhaps we needed to be reminded that wise sailors are humble sailors. We'd been quite smug about our sailing decisions and about our willingness to wait for a weather window for every departure. We thought we had excellent weather for this four day passage from Hampton, Virginia to Cumberland Island. A four day cruise .. (cue Gilligan's Island theme music) a four day cruse.

We left Hampton on Saturday, November 13th and sailed down Chesapeake Bay, and then turned on Pine Top as the sun set and motored for the next 20 hours around a placid Cape Hatteras and an indifferent Cape Lookout. The plan was to spend four days at sea and reach Cumberland Island on Tuesday or Wednesday. We would gladly sail slowly rather than work Pine Top. EW wisely told his sister that we would call her on Thursday or Friday, while I had blithely posted the four day plan on the blog so other friends and family members expected to hear from us on Wednesday. The weather reports had indicated two days of very little wind and a few hours of 20 - 30 knots along the entire coastline on Tuesday. La Luna loves 20-30 knots in the right conditions. We were heading south and we expected to be south of Cape Fear before the winds rose, but truthfully we didn't think about Cape Fear as more than a point along our way. 

Mistake #1. I did not fear Cape Fear. Heck, I didn't even respect Cape Fear. My entire focus was to get safely and easily around Hatteras. The only thought I gave to Cape Fear was to try to remember whetherDeNiro was the villain in the movie "Cape Fear", or was Nolte the villain. I dimly remember that there was a storm in that movie. Shoulda been a clue.

Mistake #2. Fuel Management Issue Part Deux. As you may remember, we had a fuel management issue in New England that required a 68 mile sail into New York Harbor. EW felt that since we had motored for 30 hours, we should drop in to Beaufort, North Carolina (this one is pronounced BOW-fort) for diesel, and we arrived at the dock at eight in the morning on Monday. The tanks only took 30 gallons and the cantankerous dock master said that our Perkins should only use 3/4 of a gallon every hour in calm seas. We had wasted his time by coming in. For us the choice was a mixed blessing. On the one hand we wasted at least four hours getting fuel we didn't need. On the other hand, since we lost those four hours, we ended up needing the fuel. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

While on the dock, we chatted with some other boaters including some charming gentlemen from Connecticut. They had come outside to Beaufort, crossing the Gulf Stream twice and told a tale of 50 knot winds and surfing down the waves at 18 knots. Not my idea of a comfortable sail. We chatted and talked of harbors and marinas. I told them the "propane lady" story and they were a wonderful audience. Meanwhile, EW was drawn into conversation with a salty character who lived aboard two rafted sailboats in the harbor. The gentleman aboard S/V Cosmo and I listened with one ear to the other conversation. They also planned to leave the harbor and head south within the half hour. 

Mistake #3 We did not heed Local Knowledge. "Local Knowledge" refers to that information locals know to be fact. As an example, the Salty Character talking with EW said, "You might have some trouble in this channel at low tide. They were supposed to dredge it three years ago." That's local knowledge and we generally respect it. So we decided to pick up a mooring for a couple of hours, shower on board, have lunch and untangle the topping lift from the flag halyard (or vice versa). Now Salty Character had also looked up at the nearly pristine blue sky and said, "See that line of clouds right here? That's the Labrador Current.  And see those over there? Those ones are over the Gulf Stream. When you see two formations coming together like this, you know it'll get nasty at Cape Fear". Formations? Those were wisps, hardly clouds at all. There was no wind. We had blue skies and sunshine and would round Cape Fear that night, long before the predicted 20-30 knot winds. We waited for the tide to turn and left Beaufort (the BOW-fort one).  

We had a lovely sail that afternoon and evening. Three other, slightly larger and faster sailboats were near us most of the night. I talked on the radio with the captain of one of them. As the wind slackened and came more on the nose, they started their engines a couple of hours before we did, and the last of them called me on the radio as they rounded the buoy about five hours ahead of us. I suspect that five hour lead made all the difference. The wind was building in the early hours of the morning. During EW's6 to 9 shift we discussed our approximate point of sail after Cape Fear and prepared to unfurl the jib. 
As we rounded the bouy, the wind increased,came at us on the nose and the seas that greeted us were 5 feet and choppy. We could not make headway toward our goal, and tried much longer than we should have to find a combination of sails and direction that would allow us to sail. There were two: one would take us to the northeast, back north of Cape Fear and toward the Gulf Stream. If we sailed in the other direction, we'd land hard on Frying Pan Shoals. We had to bring in the jib, reduce the main and sheet it in to the middle of the boat to provide stability, and use the engine to move us forward. We were now 6 or 7 hours behind our companions of the night. We were stuck at Cape Fear and the weather got worse.

Over the course of the day I grew furious with NOAA Weather Radio. They use automated voices to provide the weather that is keyed in by someone who obviously 1) didn't have any local knowledge and 2) did not listen to "current conditions", take new observations, or update the forecast for over 8 hours. The channel at Cape Fear uses a female automated voice to recite current conditions and a male voice to provide the forecast. For hours I would turn on the forecast to hear "Her" relate the current conditions at Cape Fear as winds of 19 - 22 knots with 6 - 8 foot seas. "Him" would follow with the forecast of 10 to 15 knots of wind and 4-5 foot seas except in "occasional" storms. From the looks of the skies to the south they had occasional storms. We had one squall after another, marching toward us from the west. Winds were 20 knots at the start, and built to 30 in the morning. Over night we experienced sustained gusts of 40 and 45 knots. The seas built from the south to 12-15 feet. NOAAweather radio didn't acknowledge the storm until 8:00 PM Tuesday night and by that time both "Her" and "Him" had lost all credibility with me.

For nearly 24 hours La Luna threw water over her deck as she buried her bow in a wave, or stopped and shuddered when hit cross-ways by a particularly nasty wave. Casey, the trusty auto pilot steered a course west south west, and while the sound,wind and motion made it seem that we were moving quickly, we were only able to make 1.5 to 3 knots "course over the ground". (Which means actually moving forward). Very slowly we were moving the boat away from Cape Fear and Frying Pan Shoals. We stood three hour watches, checked the radar, and held on. Off watch, we'd curl up on the starboard side and try to sleep. EW made sandwiches for lunch on Tuesday. I know I fed us something for supper but can't for the life of me remember what it was and don't believe I ate much. We both tried to keep hydrated and tried to sleep off watch. 

This is the worst storm I've experienced, yet I wasn't afraid of the conditions. I was afraid of what might happen, such as the storm getting worse or that the "scattered thunder storms" might head in our direction. On deck, I sat in the cockpit holding on with my right hand around the main furling winch.  I cannot describe the feeling of watching La Luna meet every wave. Some came right at her bow. Others on her forward quarter. One large wave hit her broadside with an amazing bang as water rushed up onto the deck and poured down below into the galley through a vent. EW slept through most bangs and bumps but that one had him jumping up with a "What the hell happened?" La Luna just plowed ahead. She might heel over with wind and waves, then come back to a more reasonable slant. She never wavered. She's a stout, well-built blue water boat. Our job was to keep her off the rocks and not screw up. As long as the auto pilot worked, three hour watches were - if not easily handled - handled.

However, I did screw up, twice, fairly early in the day. The forward sail is a furling jib. To make it smaller in high winds, or to bring it in altogether one of us hauls a furling line and the other keeps some tension on one of the sheets. The sheets are two one-inch ropes that keep the sail on the appropriate side of the boat and at the right tension for the direction of the wind. In the morning, while we were still trying to sail, I handled the sheet on a tack and lost control of it. These sheets are tied to the sail at one end and to a winch near the cockpit. I didn't get it winched in quickly, lost control of it and that line began whipping where it was slack. (Remember snapping the dish towel at your sibling when you are doing dishes? Now imagine being hit by a one inch thick rope snapped by wind at 30 knots.) I was hit in the forehead twice and as I tried to grab it the line snapped on my pinkie finger. Man did that hurt! Thankfully, we'd picked up some finger splints for the first aid kit and I quickly got back on deck.  The second time I miss-handled a line we were giving up on sailing and were furling the jib. The mistake resulted in getting both sheets into a tangled mess. We furled the sail and EW had to leave the relative safety of the cockpit and go forward to free up the sheets. 

EW had to go forward three times during the storm. Those were the times I was most afraid. He is very careful and we were both strapped to the boat with a harness.  We run a jack line on both sides of the deck so that we can strap in when working outside the cockpit, but it is still possible to get washed overboard. That is what terrifies me. He was careful, and he did what had to be done. Every time.
We ate, we slept, we stood watch, we waited it out and we dealt with anything that happened.

You don't stay dry in a storm like this. After his first soaking, EW would wear full foul weather gear on watch. My splinted finger made it difficult for me to get into and out of the weather gear trousers. It was fairly warm, so I would wear a pair of jeans on deck take them off after my watch and put on dry pants the next watch. We ended up with a lot of wet clothing after the storm.

Before the storm, we had a rule on La Luna: Barb does not have to be alone on the deck in a thunder and lightening storm. I hate them. I've been known to get a bit weepy with fear during a nasty storm inCasco Bay. Well, there is no crying on watch.  "Him" had ominously predicted "isolated" thunder storms after midnight. Of course the only one we experienced occurred during my nine to midnight watch. By then EW had gone forward twice, once during my watch. He needed his rest. I sat on the floor of the cockpit with my feet on the companionway ladder, holding on to the wooden hatch. (No metal for me!) I did not cry. The lightening gave me a great view of the seas as the storm passed overhead. There is no crying on watch.

While I had lost most faith in "Him", we continued to listen to the weather and once "Him" caught up with the actual conditions the reports seemed to be more on-target. I began to believe that the storm would abate on Wednesday morning, as promised, so when EW awakened me for the three to six watch, I was hoping for some improvement. The winds and seas were still strong as EW told me we were still getting 45 knot gusts, but the skies were clear and we could see the stars. My euphoria was dampened as EW said, "They're getting hail and watching for tornadoes on shore. Mariners are advised to keep an eye out for rapidly changing conditions." "What the heck does that mean?" I screamed, "and what am I supposed to do about it?" (Not one of my finer moments.) "Look, nothing is going on right now, you can see stars all around. Just keep an eye out and call me if you see something." And he went to sleep.

I sat in the cockpit, right (uninjured) hand around the winch, watching the sky as we continued motoring into the early morning hours. There was no unusual sound -- though the wind, smashing waves, and fluttering main made more than enough noise to mask most things. One moment there were stars all around, the next moment I looked to port and saw black. I was startled, but it didn't look like an oncoming tornado or waterspout. It was too uniform in size and too straight-sided.  I stood up and looked again. Wow. The inflatable dinghy had been very securely tied upside-down the deck. EW had used the pad eye on the bow of dinghy to secure it tightly to the deck and that had broken. The dinghy was standing up on the port side of the deck in 30 - 40 knots of wind.

I called down to EW, "Honey .. you need to see this." He got right up and started on deck in his shorts. "No, you'll want shoes for this -- and probably your foulies."  "Am I looking at something or doingsomething?" He was a bit tired. "Just take your time, but get ready and get up here." He did. When he came on deck, I pointed out the dinghy. "What the hell? Why didn't you tell me the dinghy was in the rigging?" "I didn't have the words for that." (Later we both agreed -- that if I has said "The dinghy is in the rigging," EW would have replied "What do you mean the dinghy is in the rigging?" He really had to see it for himself. This photo was taken after sunrise. 

 

He did go on deck in the dark, but there was no safe way to get it back down in those conditions. Wetightened the jib sheet behind it and left it there until after 9:00. During that time, EW said it was an effective stay sail. As the wind and seas calmed, EW went forward an d I turned La Luna to port. The shift in wind direction caused the dinghy to fall back on deck where EW secured it once again. 
Shortly after that, the wind began to shift and we gradually turned La Luna to starboard until we were on course for Cumberland Island. We discussed making a 68 mile detour to Charleston but decided that since the boat and we were fine, we'd just sail south, well away from the Cape Fear Zone. It was a lovely two-day sail. We deserved it. 

I took this photo as we set sail for Cumberland Island.

 

 

That Leaving Thing??? Not so Much. Still in Hampton

We didn't leave today. The weather didn't look good yesterday and the boat looked worse. It's all good, though. EW is on the far end of installing the wind generator. So far along that it has to be done before we go. The weather prediction yesterday was horrible for heading around Hatteras today and tomorrow. At least I felt it was horrible. They were predicting 8 - 12 foot seas (which means individual waves may be twice that height) and 24 foot seas were predicted for Thursday. 

Other individual boats and the Caribbean 1500 decided to set off yesterday and today to around Hatteras or across the gulf at the best possible time available this week. We elected to stay:

1. We are just two people and I don't have the experience EW has.

2. We aren't on the same deadline as other folks who have to get their boats to the south and get themselves and crew back to day jobs.

3. The boat wasn't ready.

We felt that we had done well making conservative decision thus far and would continue to do so.

This morning the weather predictions had changed. Not a 24 foot sea in sight on PassageWeather, WindFinder or NOAA. Hmphf! So we may leave tomorrow. EW has me on watch to help him whenever he needs it. In between that I'll do what I can down below to get ready.

Down Below  No photo because it is embarrassing and EW is very apologetic. You just can't do a major boat project and not mess up the living area. In this case the living and sleeping area. I actually purchased more mayonnaise so I wouldn't have to take everything off the settee to access the food storage area. We each have a place to sit. We have a bed at night. And the galley is mostly unaffected. (Though I came back from laundry the other day to find parts on both counter-tops.  The drawers from under our bed are stacked in the shower. New food items that go in the under settee storage are stacked next to the sink.  It's a mess. But it's progress. I'm not complanin', just sayin'. 

Was My Face Red!  (A new category to share the things that make EW laugh.)

    Remember the trek for propane? So two days later I'm in the shuttle to West Marine (I'm on a first name basis with 5 of their staff people -- and know how old their kids are.) In the shuttle are three guys -- one of whom is J, from Maine.  We were chatting about how nice folks are in Hampton. I mentioned -- just mentioned - the help I had gotten when I walked for propane on Thursday. J turned to me with eyes wide, "You're the Propane Lady?"  "There's a Propane Lady?" I squeeked. "Yep. We heard about you at the cocktail party." Guess I'll go down in history with the boating community of Hampton, VA.

Before we got here I had to fill the flour bin in the Galley due to all the baking. Afterward I made banana bread, which was 'meh', hot dog roll biscuits (to be described later), and finally pizza dough. We ate the banana bread but didn't like it much. It had been a highly touted recipe. The hot dog rolls were something I made up. It worked OK and I was/am planning on perfecting it and telling you about it. The pizza dough did not rise. I made two batches with three and a half cups of flour each before I realized that I wasn't using flour. I hadn't marked the vacuum bag that the masca tortilla mix was in. Take if from me, you can't bake with that stuff. 

Finally -- you may be able to teach a middle-aged boater new tricks, but it takes a while. I've had trouble with the dinghy motor since we started. The motor is fine. Now that we are not in our territorial waters we are unhooking the little safety clip from the dinghy and stowing it on board. I've yet to leave the boat with that darn thing. I've yet to realize it before practically yanking my arm off trying to start our easy to start four stroke Tohatsu. On shore I've repeated the process with the darn thing in my pocket. EW finds it amusing. 

So -- off to work with the new charting software. EW calls me to help whenever he needs a second person. I try to act smart. We now hope to leave Hampton tomorrow. (Though that will blow the lunch we have planned for Thursday with friends formerly from Maine.) That's cruising.