Harts At Sea

Living Aboard on the Hook or Mooring

We have completed the last leg of our summer move. First we took the boat to Great Island Boatyard in Harpswell early in April. We moved off for 2 weeks during the haul-out, and moved back on the dock two weeks ago.

Last night we moved to our summer mooring. That's right. We will live aboard on a mooring this summer. We do have better cell phone coverage in the mooring field. We do not have WiFi. That was anticipated and I expect to do my computer work on shore this summer, leaving boat time to work on the boat. This will be like leaving work "at the office" something I haven't been able to do in five years. 

What I like about living on the hook/mooring:

1. Privacy. It is a lot harder to "stop by" to see the broker (at 8 on Sunday morning or at dinnertime any night) when he is not on the dock. (Please note, EW will show your boat or sell you a boat seven days a week. You can call him on his cell. Just let me have him for Sunday breakfast. Thank you.)
2. Bow into the wind. On the dock, if the wind is from the wrong direction I can't grill. On the mooring the wind is always from the bow as we swing into the wind.
3. View. Oh, my goodness, Quahog Bay is a gorgeous harbor. Our view is spectacular. 
4. Practice. When we eventually set sail for distant shores we will largely live on the hook. This is a good opportunity to see what this is like for a lifestyle instead of just for weekends and vacation.

What I will be challenged by:

1. Power. We do not yet have wind or solar power and will have to run the engine daily to charge the batteries. I hate the sound of the engine running during breakfast. 
2. Commute. I actually love commuting by dinghy--even if there is frost on it! But we will have to coordinate schedules. This morning I had a 7:00 AM meeting in Portland. EW had to get up with me at 5:30 and take me in to shore. 

Really, that's pretty much it. I'll get all emails via my Blackberry and if I have to go in to get on the computer I can. I will have to plan my weeks and days better, but that is a good thing. I love this lifestyle and am looking forward to this new step and practicing living our dream. 

What steps have you taken to move toward your dream?  Go for it!

Leaving Portland Harbor for Great Island Boatyard in Casco Bay Maine

Good morning. This will be a quick post written just after seven AM on the 31st of March. We are getting ready to leave this marina in South Portland for the summer, heading to Great Island Boatyard in Harpswell Maine. EW is the yacht broker there and he will be the one without a commute this summer. I will use their wifi and commute to the Portland area 2 or 3 days a week. 

Last night was rough. Up to 30 MPH winds from NE. Not serious and not a severe NE storm but very, very uncomfortable. I got fewer than 3 hours of sleep and EW didn't get much more. Just talked with our neighbor across the dock - we are stern to stern. He said he got up in the night, thinking his boat was rolling a lot then he looked at ours and felt fortunate. We were mildly amused. He has a powerboat and should have been rolling much more than we were. This sailboat needs a mast. Can't wait. We rolled side to side from 11 to 2. 

Here's the plan for today: 

1. EW is taking apart the last of the frame (the door) and tossing it.
2. I'm stowing down below, doing breakfast dishes and packing to move ashore for 16 days
3. I will enter two courses into our navigation software -  One, up inside of Chebeague then out by Bailey's Island and two, straight out past Portland Head then outside up to Ragged Island. If it isn't too rough we prefer the more direct outside passage and neither of us relishes navigating around the small rocky islands and the shoal area near Bailey's. 
4. We will leave here between 8:30 and 9 - two + hours after low and hope that we can get right out the channel.
5. We will probably head out the ship's channel and see what the seas are like. Right now they are 11 feet but if those are big swells from the south it won't be too uncomfortable. According to Passage Weather, those seas are supposed to subside very soon.  In this boat we will be safe, just hoping for some comfort. 

The winds have died down a lot -- just like Passage Weather said they would. It is raining lightly or misting heavily. Cool. I'll pretend we are in Scotland or the Pacific Northwest - two places on my sailing bucket list. It will be an adventure. (Are we having fun yet?)

I'll post tweets and photos to this blog as we go. Should take 3 - 4 hours. We'll be hauled this afternoon and I'll be painting La Luna's bottom during the sunny weather coming up at the end of the week.  The mast will be put in on the 5th and EW has knee surgery on the 6th. Thankfully we can stay at a friend's house until the 15th and we will (fingers crossed) be back in the water by then.

Wish us luck and stay tuned! It's going to be a bumpy ride. (Name that movie and actress!)

Learning to Sail and Gybing the Boom (Jibing the Boom?)

So as you have probably figured out by now -- particularly if you have read the opening blog --  that I didn't know how to sail when I met EW. I had never been sailing. I had been on the ocean on a ferry to Nova Scotia and that's about it. Having grown up in Central Maine, I grew up knowing quite a bit about Maine's small lakes and ponds and not much at all about our coastline. Daddy had a 14 foot aluminum fishing boat and he liked Moosehead, Wassookeag, Sebec and China Lakes and a number of small ponds. 

So -- as has been mentioned (a lot) -- on our third date EW looked deep into my eyes and stated, "I sail and all of my friends sail." I said that I was sure I could learn. He didn't have a boat at that time (and frankly, I did wonder if he could really sail or was a "come up and see my etchings" kind of thing). Anyway he got me out on a few OPB's (Other People's Boats) and then rented a Cape Dory 28 for a week. That's all the sailing I had done until our honeymoon. 

So, EW has some great friends (now our great friends) who own a Hinckley - Competition 41. (This is where you all go "ooooooo, a Hinckley!") These friends, F & E, gave us a week on their boat for a wedding gift. Two other couples from the group provisioned the boat.  We all met on Vinalhaven in Penobscot Bay for a lobster feed and to get us checked out on the Hinckley. The next morning after pancakes on board for all, EW and I sailed away for a week. Alone. On a sailboat.  

Two more things you need to know. When he rented the Cape Dory 28, EW was smart enough to know that sailing with only me, She Who Knew Nothing, would get old. So we invited a dear friend of his to join us for most of that week.  This larger boat would be the first time I had been really required to help sail a boat for a period of time. Secondly, shortly after the "I sail and all of my friends sail" speech, EW had suggested that I take a Power Squadron navigating course.  I have a good sense of direction and it turns out that I am quite good at navigating. Back then, (25 years ago this coming July) navigating was all dead reckoning with paper charts and dividers, etc.   So off we go on our honeymoon, two newly weds, one OPB, and lots of food and drink.  We enjoyed Penobscot Bay and headed East for Blue Hill Bay and Mt. Desert. 

One of the challenges of spousal education is spousal communication. EW didn't always remember that I. Knew. Nothing.  about how the boat worked and some of his commands and direction were lacking. On the other hand, I was very nervous about "that heeling thing" and refused - absolutely REfused to take the helm. Ever. As in when he needed to "go to the head" I offered to hold a bottle for him. (That did not go over well at all.) So for the entire trip, EW captained and handled the helm and I was very green crew and outstanding navigator. 

Now finally - to our tale ..... drum roll please. I think I have to relate this as we do when we tell new friends who have not heard this one yet.

Barb: So we were going wing and wing -- down wind on a windy day -- 

EW: The wind was blowing twenty knots and we were having a great sail.  I was loving it, just hummin' along, heading into Frenchman's Bay.

Barb: So I go down below to make lunch and after a few minutes I look out the port and see an island. I pop up and say, where are you going? He says he's going behind thus and so island. I said that isn't thus and so it's such and such and there's a sand bar behind it you can't go this way.

    (Now you would think in 25 years I would have looked at a chart and gotten the names of those     islands. I have not. They've been "thus and so" and "such and such" for a long time.)

EW: So I told her, "You need to get up here, then. We're going to have to jibe the boom. Do you want to take the wheel or do you want to jibe the boom?"

Barb: Well, I still wasn't going drive the boat because I was afraid I'd tip it over so I said I'd jibe the boom. Now this boom had a preventer that was a b.i.t.c.h. The preventer is a line with ptackle used when going downwind to hold the boom so that it will not jibe unexpectedly. I was going to have to release it and install it on the other side of the boat. I hated that preventer as it ate fingers for lunch, but I wouldn't take the wheel because I'd tip the boat over. 

EW: So I told her, "Look it's very important that you control the jibe. You see that line going up and down from the cabin top to the boom? Well you take that line and you pull it in as much as you can and when I say 'Jibe Ho' you let it out gently. You are the brake. If the boom slams over it will take the rigging out and really damage the boat."

Barb: No pressure there, right? So here's the thing. I didn't pay attention in physics class. Ever. Sailing is basically all physics. That line he was talking about was of course the main sheet and it goes "up and down" from cabin top to boom through a series of pulleys. Instead of grabbing one section of the line and using the pulleys to help me. I wrapped both hands around all of the up and down sections and pulled as hard as I could. It wasn't enough.  Now EW is sailing the boat and handling the jib. This type of Hinckley has only one jib winch and it is behind the wheel, so when he is messing with the jib he isn't looking forward.  I got the preventer off, and went for the main sheet (all of 'em) and he turned the wheel, called "Jibe Ho" and turned to bring in the jib. I held on for dear life as that boom carried me all the way across the deck of the boat, bouncing the left side of my body on the cabin top, hand rails, and winches as I flew over them.  I'm tall enough (OK, big enough) that the boom stopped gently right where it was supposed to.  

   EW turns and says, "That was great!" 

    I said, "That hurt!" 

    He said, "You have to expect some discomfort when sailing."

    I said, "Discomfort, HELL! Real people shouldn't have to do that!"

Still Barb:  So we sail a very short distance before it is time to jibe back on course. 

EW: I offered to let her take the wheel and the jib ... 

Barb: But I said that no, I'd .. (well you get the idea). So proving that I am a natural blond AND a good sport, I went back to the boom and again grabbed all of the lines going up and down from deck to boom. 

EW: She two blocked it. (This is said with a touch of manly disgust) She had no leverage at all.

Barb: When we told my folks this story this is where my mother who had never sailed in her life looked at me and said, "Jeesum, Barb. I grew up on a fahm. I know what a pulley's for."  So anyway. Yes, yes I did do the exact same thing as we jibed back. Only this time, I bounced the right side of my body across the cabin top and hand rails and winch handles. And this time, EW got done with the jib more quickly and saw it.

EW: I turned around and there she was, flying across the deck with her legs out behind her. I'd never seen anything like it. I yelled,  "What the HELL are you doing?"

Barb: And I replied, "I'M JIBING YOUR G#*-D*$$ED BOOM!" (Remember, this is our honeymoon.)

EW: It was amazing. 

Barb: So later that afternoon we sailed into the town dock at Sorrento and on the dock is - no kidding - another Hinckley Competition 41. The doctor who owned it was there, tinkering and cleaning her and he very gladly helped us dock. We got off the boat and introduced ourselves and chatted a bit. He was looking at me a little strangely. At one point, EW took our garbage up to the barrel and the doc leaned closer to me and looked me deep in the eyes and asked, "Are you all right?". I looked at him blankly. His eyes dipped lower, to my legs -- both of which were breaking out in the most spectacular bruises you can imagine. "Seriously," he said, "you say the word and I will get you away from him right now!". Of course I just burst out laughing and as EW came back we had to relate, for the first time, how I learned to jibe a boom. 

EW: And then the doctor asks her if she has a sister - cause he'd love to sail with a woman who is such a good sport! 

Happy New Year

Greetings and welcome to the new decade. On Twitter yesterday afternoon, folks were sharing where they had been 10 years ago. Some responded with how they had spent the hours from 1999 to 2000, (can you say waiting for Y2K?) others described their lives -- families, careers, children. For most, the careers had changed, and children had certainly grown; some remarked on how far they had moved, others on the break up of their marriages.  It was a great reminder that we don't know what will happen in 10 years' time, but we can be assured that momentous changes will take place. 

EW and I are creating momentous change as we know that fairly early in this decade we will set sail for distant shores. That is such a cliche! "Set sail for distant shores!"  For thousands of years, coastal people have left their home port for near and distant shores and all the good phrases for that transition have been taken. We will not have new words to describe our experiences, but we look forward to living those experiences, and to trying to describe them in our own fashion.

Last night was a perfect New Year's Eve on La Luna. An impromptu casual dinner with two other live-aboard couples, one in their 20's and another in their 40's. We ate and drank and told stories. Stories of sailing, stories of friendly shores, and (in EW's case) perfectly recounted Marshall Dodge stories. 

The younger couple  --- well, they are both younger than we are -- so the youngest couple talked about how nice they found folks to be on the water.  They described landing at a marina in Maine and realizing that they needed provisions. They were dismayed to find out that no store was in walking distance. A guy said, "Here, take my truck," and gave them directions to the nearest store. It was a busy weekend and the store was full of locals, one of whom said to our friend, "So, you here on a sailboat?" Stunned, T. asked how he knew. "You're driving my truck. Figured my brother had loaned it to you." 

That is just the kind of experience we have enjoyed as we have sailed the Coast of Maine throughout our marriage. We look forward to telling similar stories about the people we meet on those distant shores in this next decade. 

At then end of the evening we rang in the new year with the ship's bell. The first 6 peals of the bell were struck by EW - the oldest on board. The last six by the youngest. A perfect way to begin the New Decade.

May you have fair winds and following seas -- no matter where you travel and no matter what your vessel. Happy New Year.

Choosing Fun

Whee! So yesterday I had a long to-do list and a boat that needed some house work done and what did I do? I went sailing of course!

Within a week we will have La Luna hauled in order to pull her mast. It is time to have the rigging and lights redone. We will then motor back to our home port in South Portland and put on the plastic cover for a 6 month stay on the dock. Yesterday's light breezes weren't enough for our big boat, but it was a nearly perfect fall day for Selene, my 17' O'Day sailboat.

EW had driven to the boatyard in Harpswell in order to show a boat. A couple of hours after he left, I called to tell him I was on my way to take him for a sail. He did not need any urging. "Come on!"

As you can see, the leaves were at their peak on the coast. There were very few other boats on the water, hardly any noise at all. We listened to the lapping of the water against Selene's hull, the birds (gulls, cormorants, and roosters - really), and sounds of folks chopping wood on shore. We could have done with a bit more wind -- but we are not complaining. It was a nearly perfect day.

These are things I need to remember: Choose fun. Celebrate. Live.

Labels: 17' O'Day, Autumn, dinghy sailing, Leaves changing colors, Maine Coast, Sailing

Teaching Your Wife/Husband to Sail and Other Secrets of a Long Marriage

On Friday, my wonderful husband delivered a used 17 foot O'Day "Day Sailer" to me at Great Island Boatyard in Harpswell. I am delighted, thrilled, and acting like a kid with a new toy. 

As I write this I am on La Luna, our floating home working and wondering if there is enough wind in Quahog Bay to take Selene for a sail. Since I will not be in Quahog Bay today, the question is moot, but I do want to sail my boat. 

In a normal summer (one with decent weather and a husband who didn't spend July battling cellulitis) we sail/motor to Great Island Boatyard every Thursday or Friday and return to South Portland for the work week on Sunday evening. As a Yacht Broker, Stew works all of Friday most of Saturday and a bit on Sunday, so I am left to my own devices in an area with no cell phone coverage and limited Wifi on the mooring. Last summer Stew (EW - to those who follow @BarbAtSea on Twitter) was gifted with a small sailing dinghy really suitable for one child  or small person. She had one sail, and did not point well, but I had a ball sailing that boat around the bay. 

This weekend Stew purchased the 17 foot boat that can easily take three adult women (Woot) and that I can also sail alone. Unlike the smaller dinghy sailboat, this one has a main and a jib, and a small cuddy cabin to keep things relatively dry. She sails much faster, points to windward better, and is much more responsive than the dinghy sailboat. I will be able to practice maneuvers that will come in handy as we sail "La Luna" to more distant ports. I've named her "Selene" as in goddess of the moon to show that she respects the queen of our fleet, "La Luna". I spent most of Saturday cleaning her, and running down the few parts I needed. EW fixed one broken spreader - he is talented like that - between selling boats and listing boats and showing boats. 

That afternoon, we took her for a short sail and discovered the centerboard wouldn't come down. We fixed that for the season and called it a day. On Sunday, we took the inflatable to shore, got a newspaper, towed Selene back to the mooring in the outer harbor and enjoyed a wonderful breakfast. Stew then went to the office while I puttered and waited for the wind to fill in. Finally, La Luna's flag was fluttering to indicate that we had wind, and I set sail on Selene. Once moving through the water, I called Stew on the marine radio to let him know. He was done with work and ready for a sail, so I stayed in the vicinity until he was ready to join me. 

I love Stew. We have been married for 24 years and I want to stay married to him for at least 51 more. He is welcome on Selene whenever I am not sailing with women friends. (With all of this build up you know what's coming, right?) Yep. We had "a moment". 

I need to learn some things on my own. I don't do well with being told stuff and not being able to try it myself, without interference. Except for one marginal sailing class on a Sunfish 25 years ago, everything I have learned about sailing I learned from my husband. There are many sailing programs and classes just for women for a reason. Spouses (of either gender) don't let spouses make mistakes and learn from them. We prod, we teach, we poke, we gently remind, point out, correct -- we interfere. I do that when I am the "expert". Stew did that as I was handling my new boat on Sunday, telling me I was too close to the wind and to fall off. I made the course adjustment, but also responded with the rolled eyes and snarky manner of a 14 year old. (Hey - I'm not proud of that, but I am truthful.) 

Stew was perceptive enough to say, "Do you not want me to tell you anything or what?" I replied, "No, I don't. You have told me how to sail for 24 years. These are things I need to try myself in order to really learn it. Unless we are in real danger, I want you to be the crew and enjoy the ride." He grudgingly agreed, but then showed he didn't quite get it when he eagerly added, "But do you feel the difference?" I told him he couldn't even ask that, and didn't answer him. 

This is a conversation we have had for over 20 years on four different boats. We both know that I have to sail this boat on my own in order to feel the wind in the sails, make the corrections, and build my confidence. It is past time. We had a terrific day on the water. Yes, I did offer him the opportunity to take the tiller (and total command of the "ship") and he showed me a new way to rig the jib sheet when sailing downwind. I discovered why the sheet gets hung up on the spreader and suggested a fix for that. I am learning to be a better, more observant sailor - because I have insisted on having the time to make my own observations. 

Stew did two great things this weekend. He got me a wonderful boat to learn on -- and he agreed to step back and let me learn. I can take 51 more years of that!

Lessons Learned Under Crisis

Two weeks ago, on July 3rd Stew (my captain, partner and husband) had a medical emergency. We ended up in the hospital late at night, miles from the boat. Stew was diagnosed with cellulitis -- a particularly nasty bacterial infection of the deepest layer of the skin. It had spread quickly (or as the doctor said, it was "aggressive") beginning with a small mark on his leg Friday morning. By late Friday night he had chills and his lower leg was bright red from ankle to knee and grossly swollen. 

We were out for dinner and a Jonathan Edwards concert in Ogunquit with Stew's sister, a retired nurse, who insisted that we go to the emergency room at the nearest hospital. We did, and though treated with respect and great care, we were there for over 3 hours total. They diagnosed the problem and gave Stew an I/V of antibiotics and a prescription for more. In addition they gave him medication for the pain, which was considerable. 

Lesson Number One -- Major infections can occur anywhere and are not to be taken lightly. If we had not gone to the hospital that night, Stew could have become gravely ill, requiring a 2 week or more hospital stay. His leg looked like those photos I've seen when sailors have encountered nasty tropical bugs. I have a lot of research to do regarding the on-board medical kit for our future travels. 

So there we were in Biddeford which is 30 minutes of our home port in South Portland, and the boat was in Harpswell which is a 45 minute drive north of said home port. It was 2:30 AM and we certainly could have called friends or checked into a hotel to get some rest, but Stew insisted that he could get from the car to the dinghy and out to our boat on a mooring. I didn't think that was possible, but wanted to get near the boat as I would have to tend to both Stew and the boat over the next two days and wanted to be close to both. At 4:00 AM we checked into a hotel in Brunswick, where I got 4 hours sleep until it was time to give Stew his medication. I got him a muffin, filled his prescription, and left him to sleep with the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. 

Then I called the boatyard and asked the weekend receptionist not to give out Stew's mobile number to prospective boat buyers or boat sellers; and I asked the yard's owner to please get our boat off the mooring and into a slip where I could expect to get Stew aboard later that day. 

Lesson Number Two -- Ask for help. When in a "challenging situation" it is not only OK to ask friends for help, it is expected. I had a hard time with it at first until someone reminded me that if any of our friends had a similar challenge, Stew and I would be more than willing to assist in any way. 

 Once I got the hang of it -- I asked for a lot of help. The friend who traveled with us that night, cheerfully waited the three hours at the hospital and helped throughout the weekend. At the hotel, I asked to check in at 4:00 AM, in a first floor unit, stay until 4:PM and pay only for one day. They had space and graciously allowed us to do so. The boatyard had to move someone else to a mooring and move our boat into a slip. They did it without question. Late in the afternoon, I got Stew back to the boat and someone fed me dinner. (He still had no appetite.) Now, I had husband and boat together, but the boat and car were in Harpswell and I needed us all to be in Portland on Sunday evening. So I asked more people to help. 

I suggested to Stew that I call three sailors from our marina in South Port to see whether they would give up a day on their boats and come to Harspwell to help me take our boat home. I figured that Stew would stay below in our cabin and be there to help with advice. I have never captained this boat without Stew on board. I also asked Lynnelle, a dear friend from South Portland to drive those sailors to Harpswell so we didn't end up with still more cars to transport. Then I asked boating friends in Harpswell to drive our car to South Portland on their way home to Massachusetts. I asked for a lot of help. 

Then Lynnelle offered to take Stew back to her house for the day, leaving me to manage the boat with our friends.  I didn't think he'd go, but he said it was a good idea -- clearly he was even sicker than I thought. But it was also clear that he thought I was capable of getting our boat home safely. 

Lynnelle took Stew home, made a sick bed for him on her couch and got "guy movies" for him to watch. The sailors and I had lunch and we left the dock without a hitch. We had a beautiful day. The trip can take 3 to 5 hours depending on the conditions. We made it in 3 hours on a perfect sail. I navigated and ran the ship and the three experienced sailors were an excellent crew. They had even organized a landing party to help us into our very tight slip in South Portland. Our boating neighbors had been told about our situation and twelve people were on hand to help us dock!

Lesson Number Three -- I really am a sailor! I did not sail at all until I met Stew. The number of women only sailing courses available are an indication that it can be difficult to be a confident sailor when you sail almost exclusively with the husband who taught you. Stew did not feel well, but he also knew that I could bring the boat home and he had more confidence in my abilities than I did. Once we got moving, I was able to give concise instructions regarding our furling mainsail and other gear. I was told that I sounded relaxed and that the crew had fun on the water with me. More important -- I had fun on the water with me. I'd go with me again! 

 Stew is recuperating -- it has taken over two weeks and we have kept sailing. While he is still gimping around, he stays at the wheel and runs the boat and I do all the deck work. Once he is recovered, we will swap roles much more often and I will run the boat half the time. After all, I really am a sailor!

Sailing in Maine: Two Wrongs - Two Rights It All Evens Out

Those who follow me on Twitter (@BarbAtSea)know that we left the dock for the first sail of 2009 on July 2nd. This is almost two months later than normal and due entirely to the horrendous weather we've had this year. The photo at left was captioned: "Barb At Sea, Truly, Really at Sea. I love my boat.' 

I do love my boat; I love sailing with Stew; and for the most part I enjoyed the sail regardless of the weather. What very few people knew was that we left South Portland at 5:30 AM with the intent to arrive in Harpswell at Great Island Boatyard by 9:00 AM, showered and ready for busy work days for both of us. We didn't make it to GIBY until 11:30 because the engine sputtered and died just outside of Jewell Island. 

Wrong: EW had checked the fuel the evening prior, and knew that we  had fuel in the reserve tank, but thought that one or both fill tanks were empty. We were tired, we wanted an early start and he thought there was enough to get to our destination, where we could fuel up prior to heading back to our home port. We don't actually know how to measure the amount of fuel in the reserve tank or how long that will take us. That isn't a safe boating practice and we know it. 

Second Wrong: When the engine died, he and I both immediately assumed we were out of fuel. We didn't even think of other possibilities. Clearly we both had wondered if there was enough for the trip, so that the first and only cause that we considered. The next day, when EW brought 5 gallons of diesel out to the boat -- he discovered that we actually had fuel in the tank. In fact, the level on the stick was nearly as high as it was when we started out on Thursday. Ah-ha! Then we looked for other issues and sure enough, we found a clogged fuel filter. Changed it out, bled the engine and the issue is solved. We could have done that Thursday morning and arrived nearly on time. I would have been on time to my appointment and completed more phone calls, but we would have missed a very fine sail, which brings me to ... 

First Right: While the wind wasn't coming from the optimum direction for a direct and timely sail to GIBY, we did have wind. We worked together to quickly unfurl the mainsail, move us away from the rocks, unfurl the jib and correct the course to allow for multiple tacks to our chosen entrance to Quahog Bay. We had good visibility, good wind, light rain, and a really nice sail. I plotted the best course given the conditions and we were able to sail right up to the mooring. I love the teamwork in sailing. I love being able to work with my life's partner to make the boat move, overcome challenges, and fix problems. 

Second Right: I told only 3 very close friends that EW had allowed us to run out of diesel. We joke, we tease, and we "tell on" each other -- but not about things that would be deeply embarrassing or are unprofessional. EW is a yacht broker and licensed captain. He is phenomenally knowledgeable about sail and power boats, can fix just about anything, and I trust him with my life. He was right that we had more than enough fuel to reach our destination. And I have recanted my story and reported the correct version to those 3 close friends. 

Lessons learned: 

1. We need to determine how to know the actual amount of fuel we have in the tanks. We use the diesel to run our furnace in the winter, and we heat water through that system when we are away from shore power in the summer. We cannot rely on engine hour records to give us accurate information about the amount of fuel left on board.
2. We need to take the time to do things right and to make sure we are completely ready for a safe passage, whether it is a matter of 30 miles or 3000 miles. We were anxious to finally move the boat away from the dock and impatient to take off. Certainly many a world sailor has found themselves in rough weather and dangerous situations due to being insistent on getting to a certain port regardless of the circumstances. 
3. Trust your partner and your boat. We didn't panic, blame, condemn or yell. We just got to work to move the boat. Because of that, it was indeed a great sail. I do love our boat .. and EW.

A Fog Mull

July 1, 2009 -- still dank and damp and dark and wet and not like July in Maine. Towels aren't drying, we plan grilled meals at our own peril, and we really, really, really want to go sailing. Today is a day of dense, heavy fog and no wind. According to John Gould's Maine Lingo this type of fog is known as a "fog mull". If you sail in Maine, you can expect to sail in fog. The phrase "fog bound Coast of Maine" is incredibly descriptive. When we have had a breeze, we have sailed in the fog both with and without instruments. We use our senses more fully as we look and listen for danger and buoys. We work together as a team to reach our destination safely. We celebrate at the end of a successful passage. 

We have also stayed on the hook or mooring or dock and waited it out. Using the time to explore a new harbor, read, play games, cook, and plot future courses. Both are good strategies for boaters. Since we can't change the weather, it makes sense to give in to the inevitable. I am doing that this week by using this time to reflect, plan, and sort. Stew and I are clearing the boat of clutter, using storage space more effectively, and making plans for our future. One could say that this "pre-boom" economy has put Maine and the country in a dense fog. As the owner of Hire Well, I am using part of the each work day to clear the clutter, create better systems, market more effectively and make plans for growth and prosperity. It's a fog mull day. Whether you choose to sail forward, or sit and reflect. Embrace the day and use it wisely.

Labels: economy, goals, Maine, planning, Sailing

Living Aboard in Maine and Planning to Sail the World

  We are bouncing with the chop of North East winds at high tide on this stormy Sunday. On this day we will lay out a plan to meet our cruising goal, so it is a good day to look at La Luna under sail. The photo was taken a couple of years ago on a beautiful day in Quahog Bay in Harpswell. I look forward to sailing La Luna in beautiful bays around the world -- Great Britain, the Med, Caribbean, Las Perlas Islands, Australia, British Columbia. This is a dream we have held for years and one we first put into action when we bought La Luna 7 years ago. We first saw her on January 19, 2002 and purchased her on April 1st of that year. We are living our dream.

This photo was taken by Jack Norby - photographer, sailor, and pilot in Maine.