A Bit of Public Speaking

(Image from http://www.pivotalpublicspeaking.com)

There’s an oft-quoted statistic in business and self-help books that says it is very common to have a deep fear of public speaking. I was most definitely born without that gene. What can I tell you? I’m a Leo, and if you study astrology it claims that Leos like being the center of attention. So when a friend asked if we would please please please consider hosting a session on resources for cruisers traveling the ICW, I secretly considered it an opportunity to accomplish several things with a single act. (“Two birds with one stone,” and all that, but I hate that analogy, since dead birds just don’t make me happy.) We could pass on to other cruisers the wonderful mentoring that we had received from James and Ellen before our first trip, and … we could get the requester in our debt for doing something that was really not very unpleasant at all. Never know when this might come in handy if we need a favor in return.  Ooops, now that I’ve admitted that publicly, I guess I’ve rather ruined the impact. Sigh. I know said requester reads this blog.

Anyway, I need to back up a bit. On September 19, “Talk Like A Pirate Day,” we put on our pirate garb and went to the Eastport/Annapolis Neck library where we entertained the kids for their pirate-themed event. (pix on the library’s Facebook page; one even appeared here in the Capital next day.) “Remember,” we warned the kids, “we’re just playing here. Real pirates are bad guys, okay?” But I don’t really have a lot of qualms about being perceived as glorifying the bad guys. I learned from other historical-reenactor friends, you meet the kids where they are. Do what it takes to get their attention, get them hooked on history, and then use that as a springboard for the messages you really want to deliver.

“Library? What good is a library to a pirate?” I asked the kids. “Most pirates can’t read, because they think the first letter of the alphabet is “aaargh,” I joked with them. (Kinda corny, I know, but it plays pretty well to 5-year-olds.) “Though pirates do not be needing a library, the library needs pirates,” my friend Beth, wise mother of a challenging 4-year-old, responded later. “For children of all ages need inspiration to sail out into the unknown and find adventure. Many a true tale was inspired by Treasure Island.”

And just over a week after that, we gave a presentation about resources for traveling the ICW from Norfolk, Virginia to Florida to some grownups who may once have been those inspired children of whom my friend Beth spoke. I’m not much of a “joiner” of organizations or yacht clubs, etc; we generally tend to go our own way and associate if anything more with other locals than other cruisers. If we didn’t value independence, after all, we wouldn’t be traveling on a sailboat. One cruising organization we did join, however, was Seven Seas Cruising Association. It’s an organization of cruisers helping cruisers with everything from advice to rides to the grocery store.

We had sailed down to the Rhode River for the SSCA gam the weekend preceding the boat show. (A “gam” is a social visit or friendly interchange, especially between sailors or seafarers) where we met many friends old and new, and others we’d typed with for months or years online and had never met in person. There were 60 or 70 anchored boats arriving for the event, and more people who drove in, almost 500 attendees in all. Being me, I stressed mightily before the presentation, but enjoyed it while interacting with folks, and overall it seemed very well-received. Of course, the fact that we’d been up until 2 AM the night before, chatting under the stars (“gamming” indeed) and sipping rum with Melissa and Anne and Donna and John might have had something to do with that stress…

Giving the presentation got us chatting with a lot of interesting folks and certainly contributed to the fun we had overall at the event. And, as is often the case, the best way to really learn something is to try and teach it. In preparing for our presentation, in pulling the resources together, reviewing guidebooks and websites and apps and charts and finding out what tools are out there, we learned a lot that will probably make our own next ICW trip even richer and more rewarding – and hopefully, even more comfortable.

 
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I've posted a summary of the presentation that includes links to the websites and other resources. I’m trying to crowdsource this, so if you have favorite websites, guidebooks or apps that aren’t on my list please tell me a bit about them in the comments.

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Sources of Information for the ICW Trip

Here is the handout from the presentation we did at the SSCA gam last month, on resources for making the trip down the ICW from Norfolk, VA to FL.  We had a table filled with maps and books and nautical charts in various formats from various publishers, and screen shots of websites and apps.  This probably worked a lot better at the live presentation, where folks could see and touch the charts and guidebooks, but at least, here are links to the websites and other resources that are available to help you make the trip.
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Paper Charts

   

Maptech Regions 6 and 7 (these are the big 17 x 22 charts organized like a AAA trip-tych, cost around $120 each)

Inlet Chart Book by Steve Dodge (These are the major ocean inlets back into the ICW, not the ICW itself. book size about 8-1/2 x 11; about $20)

ICW Chart Book by John and Leslie Kettlewell (spiral bound, book size about 8-1/2 x 11; same scale as the Maptech charts but smaller so they show less of the surrounding area; about $60. 6th edition is out now)

Guide Books (those marked with an asterisk are SSCA supporters)

*Doziers Waterway Guides: http://www.waterwayguide.com/publications.php?area=about_guide (great info for going ashore, what to see/do in town, marina ads, aerial photos)

*Skipper Bob's Anchorages: http://www.skipperbob.net/publications (very simple text-only summary of anchorages, free docks, and bridge info)

*Managing the Waterway: http://www.onthewaterchartguides.com/guides-books/icw-detail (I describe this as a "piloting" guide. For each section of the waterway, all the info about shoals, anchorages, marinas, bridges, WX channels for VHF, phone numbers for bridges, and text tidbits about local history, wildlife, culture are on each 2-page spread.)

*Anchor Guide for the ICW: http://www.onthewaterchartguides.com/guides-books/icw-anchorguides (This is the book with the small charts for each anchorage including depth soundings, direction of best wind protection, and many other details.)

The Great Book of Anchorages: http://www.tgboa.com/

Maptech's Embassy Cruising Guides: http://www.richardsonscharts.com/product_detail.php?id=11

Websites

Guides

The first 3 - Active Captain, Cruiser's Net, and Dozier's, all three have info on shoals, problem areas, anchorages, and marinas, so use whichever works best for you.  I review all three when planning our navigation for an area, but find that the greatest strengths of each are different.

Active Captain: https://activecaptain.com/ (crowdsourced; my first choice for finding a good boatyard wherever we happen to be)

Cruiser’s Net: http://cruisersnet.net/ (professionally reviewed; my first choice for finding out about shoals and problem areas)

Dozier’s Waterway Guide: http://www.waterwayguide.com/ (professionally reviewed; my first choice for local news)

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers: http://www.saw.usace.army.mil/nav/ (This is the North Carolina district; has links to other regions.  Note that the Corps refers to the ICW as the AIWW - Atlantic Intracoastal WaterWay)

U.S. Coast Guard Local Notice to Mariners: http://www.navcen.uscg.gov/?pageName=lnmDistrict&region=5

Weather

Accuweather: http://www.accuweather.com/ (different weather analysis than NOAA)

NOAA: http://www.weather.gov/ (no ads; you’ve already paid for this service with your taxes)

The Weather Channel: http://www.weather.com/ (their ipad app has a nice layout)

Weather Underground: http://classic.wunderground.com/ (loads faster than new version; this is just repackaged NOAA data, some people prefer this format)

Wind

NOAA Marine Forecast: http://www.nws.noaa.gov/om/marine/home.htm

PassageWeather: http://www.passageweather.com/ (wind strength map like a grib file, looks forward about 6 days)

Wind Guru: http://www.windguru.cz/int/

(and many many more, but don’t forget WX on your VHF!)

Bahamas Meteorology Dept: http://www.bahamasweather.org.bs/index.php?page=forcasts

Tides

NOAA: http://tidesandcurrents.noaa.gov/tide_predictions.shtml

Apps

  (The first seven are ones I use, the rest were suggested by attendees)

Charts and Tides (Navimatics, about $25 at the iTunes store - turns your phone into a chartplotter, and links to active captain website)

RadarScope (shows which way storm cells are moving, about $10)

Sky View (names constellations, stars and planets, $2)

Drag Queen (anchor watch; free)

iAIS (gives AIS info if you're in cell phone range; free)

BoatUS and SeaTow both have apps (free)

NOAA, WeatherUnderground, etc, have apps (free)

most of the online forums such as Sailnet, Cruiser's Forum, etc all have apps

Smart Buoys (for those 8 - 10 big yellow informational buoys in the Chesapeake Bay)

Compass i

Theodolite

eSeaChart

Tide Graph

Wind Alert

Radar Now (Android)

 Forums

Cruisers’ Forum: http://www.cruisersforum.com/forums/

SailNet: http://www.sailnet.com/forums/

SSCA: http://forum.ssca.org/phpBB3/

Trawlers Forum: http://www.trawlerforum.com/forums/

(and many many more)

SSB Radio Nets

Radio Nets: http://www.docksideradio.com/east_coast.htm (if you have an SSB, this website lists all the cruisers nets, time and frequency to listen in)

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I'm trying to crowdsource this presentation -- if you have other good websites or apps, please tell me about them in the comments.

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Raft Up: Fear

A bolt of lightning = a bolt of fear for me

My grandmother was a fearful person and famous in our family for worrying.  If we were late arriving for a visit, the cause wasn’t simply that we were delayed in traffic.  Undoubtedly we had gotten into a serious wreck, or gotten lost in a dangerous area of town and been attacked, or (who knows?) washed away in a flood or struck by lightning or eaten by dinosaurs.  She gets a by on this fear: there are family stories about how she was smuggled across WWI Europe as a nubile teenager, along with her brothers and sister.  I don’t doubt that the things she saw and experienced in those days earned her the right to nightmares.

My mother, therefore, grew up with a mother who was always, always, looking over her shoulder and imagining that bad things had happened/were happening/were about to happen to her family.  So, growing up with that kind of discomfort, no matter how much she worried about her kids’ safety when we ran around exploring, she swallowed her own fears, put on a brave face, and did her best to make sure that my brother and I grew up with a healthy respect for the world, but without being saddled with that kind of phobia.  Her sacrifice worked extremely well; when we first moved aboard and started voyaging, I had, perhaps, rational concern for the power of nature, and concern about the logistics of being far from home, but no fears about our new lifestyle.

Ah, innocence that did not last long!  I did not remain a fearless WonderWoman sailor.  So here’s the catch.  I was also the kind of kid who only had to touch the hot stove exactly once to learn caution.  As kids, we could explore our world, try just about anything, imagine scenarios and how we’d act in them, make mistakes and learn from them.  The only thing that wasn’t okay with our parents was to make the same mistake twice.

I loved watching the terrible beauty of thunderstorms when we lived in Colorado, what my friend Nancy called the “land of passionate weather” – no gentle misting rain here, but blizzards in winter and thunder in summer.  But we lived in a sturdy old house on the plains, and any bad weather looks better from the vantage point of a sofa and viewed through a pane of glass!

My first thunder-and-lightning storm at sea was indeed terrible beauty:  it was July 4 and the Independence Day fireworks displays were puny compared to Mother Nature’s.  Lightning crackled 360 degrees around us (somehow, magically, we weren’t hit) and tossed shimmering phosphorescent green water around us and over the bow.  I wasn’t scared during the event, but was awed.

My second big thunderstorm experience occurred at anchor in North Carolina on what was supposed to be a peaceful night, and it’s the one that really changed my outlook.  It was one of only two times that our anchor failed to hold as lightning crashed around us and a tornado or microburst pushed us into the shallows.  (The only other time our anchor dragged was also in a thunderstorm, do you see a pattern here?)  Dan processed that storm as one of many things in life that you cannot do much about, so just have to deal with when it happens.  For me, though, that storm was my hot-stove moment, some kind of nautical PTSD.  I’m just too acutely aware, now, of how small our boat really is, and how we’re sitting right at the bottom of a lightning rod disguised as a mast, and how strong the winds can be. It’s not a crippling phobia, I don’t shiver under the bunk the way our dog did during storms or fireworks, but still, I seem to react disproportionately.  Years later, and as little as a 20% or 30% chance of storms in the forecast is enough to get me going.  When gray clouds start to build, I (as chief navigator and weather forecaster of Team Cinderella) will take us miles out of the way to a secure anchorage or marina, where we can both observe the storm as I prefer – through a pane of glass.

Click on the monkey's fist to read others bloggers on this topic.

How to Make a Month Fly By

Yikes!  Can it really have been an entire MONTH since I’ve blogged?  While we were on the hard this summer, waiting for the boat to dry so we could put on the new copper bottom paint, time seemed to just crawl by.  Summer days are long, of course, but this was something else.  Time just dragged.  Finally, after being out of the water for the oddly symmetric dates of 7/9 through 9/7, the job was complete and we were back afloat where we belong.  And the clock, which had been ticking so … very … slowly … day … by … day, now speeded up and time passed-in-a-breathless-blur-of-friends-and-events.  Every one of them reminds me of how lucky I feel to have this life and the opportunities and connections it generates.

Even the sunset in Whitehall Bay was copper-colored!

We celebrated the completion of the Coppercoat paint job by hosting a “copper” themed party that Saturday after we splashed: Fordham “Copperhead” Ale to drink in shimmery orange cups; a variety of appropriately-colored food served on russet-hued plates (golden curries, pumpkin, and butternut squash featured prominently); shiny copper mardi gras beads for folks to wear; I was even dressed in the slinky shiny bronze pants I wear for fun evenings out.  The day before, we had taken the boat to anchor out overnight at Whitehall Bay just to clear our heads.  We sailed gloriously FAST – don’t know whether it was the chemistry of the new paint or the meticulous job our marina did with the fairing and application, or both – but it was delightful!  Even the sunset that night was copper-colored, as if the Chesapeake was celebrating with us and welcoming us back.

There came throughout September and into October a series of big events worthy of separate posts, and smaller meetings and trips and parties with a swirl of friends.  Christmas may be the most wonderful time of the year according to the carol, but religious implications aside, my vote for most wonderful time of the year goes to boat show season in Annapolis.  The days are still warm and the nights are cool and the winds are a bit stronger for sailing.  It’s the time when people who spent the summer in Maine or Canada to escape the heat (and potential hurricanes) are passing through Annapolis on their way southbound to warmer climes.  Boat Show time in Annapolis!!! Don't know what I love more, seeing all the shiny new boats and gear, or seeing all the friends old and new who come to town for the show.  Yes, I do know.  What’s best of all is getting both: friends Tony and Michelle from St Augustine were here with their new boat A La Mer (To The Sea) which appeared, beautifully decorated and staged, in the show.  

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Thanx go to reader “Paul” who commented on my last post about COLREGs for everyday interpersonal interactions that technically, the rules we refer to as COLREGs apply in international waters.  The collision that sparked my post occurred in the Magothy, so inland, not international, navigation rules would apply.  When I first pitched the idea of this blog to the Capital-Gazette, I billed it as a sailing blog for non-sailors, to help people understand this nautical obsession that is so much a part of Annapolis culture.  I didn’t think our adventures were quite bold enough to interest serious sailors, we’re not crossing oceans, after all.  Sometimes, especially in stormy weather, the Chesapeake is plenty big enough for me.  Always delighted to learn that other sailors and liveaboards as well as dreamers are finding what I write useful and entertaining.  Thanx, all, you keep me on my toes!

COLREGS

The COLREGS

There's been a lot of coverage here (and here and here) of a bad boat crash involving boating at high speed and drinking on the part of one of our legistators.  The other boat was a guy trailing his grandchildren tubing.  Lots of injuries - fortunately, all are expected to recover - and lots of blame to go around.  Speed and alcohol for sure on the one boat, potentially speed, distraction and/or erratic driving on either or both boats.

The accident investigation to determine who was at fault hasn't been completed, yet.  Lots of conversations online and with boating friends speculating about "who had the right-of-way?"

See, with boats, there is a clear set of rules explaining what to do in various situations where boats meet on the water.  They are the "COLREGS" - International REGulations for Preventing COLlisions at Sea, and every US boat larger than 39 feet is required to carry a copy onboard. (Smaller vessels like ours may carry them also, and we do, but aren't required to.) They explain which boat has to alter course if two appear to be on a collision course - sailboats yield to tugs, for example, and power boats yield to sail; in this case it's about which boat is more maneuverable.  The boat that has the right-of-way also has obligations; it must maintain its course and speed so the boat that is charged with avoiding it can predict where it will be.  COLREGS also give general rules to be followed at all times (keep proper watch, keep speed safe for conditions); and codify old traditions that describe the pattern of lights that will allow boats to see each other, and just by eye to identify each other's type and some indication of their orientation and course at night.

It's my fantasy, so I keep thinking, it would be so cool if we had some sort of COLREGS for everyday life.  Just imagine how smooth social interaction would be if everyone knew and followed the same rules to avoid, if not boat crashes, then personality clashes!  I get that etiquette is intended to do just that, sort of, but it varies from culture to culture and even from region to region. But remember that whole bit in the COLREGS about lights, so you can instantly look at another boat and from its lights at night, understand what kind of boat it is and where it's headed?   What I'd really like in my hypothetical COLREGS for social interaction, is the equivalent of those lights - so that on meeting a new person, you could instantly understand their true nature and intentions.

Note: This post is in no way a reference to either current national politics, nor any of my former lovers.  Nope.  None.  Not any.  (Yeah, right.)
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Oooh, Shiny!

August 23 was the fifth anniversary of my dad's death.  He was an engineer and a materials expert, fascinated by new gadgets and processes.  Somehow it seemed very fitting to me that that day was also the day we got 4 coats of the wonderful copper-epoxy bottom paint we've been so excited to try.  I don't know whether he would have thought the concept of adding copper powder to epoxy to repel barnacles and other marine growth brilliant or wacky, but I'm sure he would have had an opinion!

First they added powdered copper to two-part epoxy and mixed it up, then rolled it onto the hull.

The first coat went on frighteningly thin, but by mid-day, there were 4 coats of paint and we gleamed like a new penny.

Oooh, shiny!

The instructions were emphatic that we had to make sure the paint was DRY for 48 hours, no rain in the forecast.  Thursday and Friday were perfect for this, perfect 82-degree temps and low humidity, just what a summer day should be.  But the forecast for Saturday was uncertain and the forecast for Sunday was downright scary.  The paint crew decided to protect us using shrinkwrap plastic to keep the potential rain off.

Protected - high and dry!

Talk about timing: at 49-1/2 hours after painting was completed, the rain started.  We were mighty glad for that plastic tent protecting us below the waterline!  (Yes, I know, there's a crazy discontinuity there, as the parts of our boat normally above water in the ocean got wet, while the parts normally below water stayed dry.  Whatever.)  By Monday morning, parts of eastern Maryland had gotten more rain than hurricane Isaac had dumped on southern Florida over the same time period!  They still need to move the jackstands and paint the parts of the hull that they couldn't reach with the stands in place.  Then finally, finally, FINALLY, we're back in the water.

Square Peg, Round Hole

Well, actually, triangular hole.  The designers of boats our size are faced with a dilemma – how to effectively use the space in the bow.  Constrained by the shape of the hull, it doesn’t have sufficient headroom to stand up in, and it comes to a point. The most common solution is to make it sleeping space, generally referred to as the v-berth because if there is one bunk on each side, their toes come together at the point of the bow, making a “V” shape on the floor plan.

The layout of our boat, from the original advertising brochure.   

Here’s what our v-berth looks like in person.  We’ve added a trapezoidal cushion to turn the two separate bunks into one triangular king-size bed.  It works great, plenty of space, and because it spans the hull, you can’t fall out of bed even in bouncy conditions.  Except.  The average American bed sheet is rectangular.

V-berth, looking forward

Inspired by some instructions found on the internet, we decided to take advantage of our time here on the hard to custom-tailor a set of sheets for our unique application.  We’re not sleeping in the v-berth anyway because the air conditioner we’re using here is not powerful enough to cool the entire boat.  It can (barely) keep up with just the main cabin, so we’ve been sleeping on the foldout settees there (pictures here).  We took the v-berth cushions out of the boat and laid them on the floor of our marina’s party pavilion, then laid a set of regular king-size sheets on top.  Even though our first attempt was on a set of old sheets that would need to be replaced soon, taking a scissors to the material was daunting!  The actual project went pretty easily, and we learned enough on the first part of it to be positively cheery about cutting and sewing the second set of sheets.

Laying out the sheets over the triangular cushions was easy, but making that first scissors cut was daunting.

I once read a story of a woman who was a very poor housekeeper.  She was given the gift of a beautiful lily.  She brought the flower home and put it in a vase.  But in contrast to the perfection of the flower, the vase appeared smeared and dirty (which it was).  She thought, “I cannot have that lovely flower’s beauty dimmed by that dingy vase,” so she cleaned the vase until it sparkled and put the flower back.  “There,” she thought, as she stood back to admire her effort.   “A vase worthy of that pretty blossom.”  Then she put the vase and flower on the table.  You guessed it – now the bright flower in the shiny vase made the dust on the table all the more visible by comparison, so she cleaned the table.  The table in turn inspired her to clean the rest of the room, and the room, the rest of the house.

Similarly, as long as we were working on the bed, we decided to clean the now-empty v-berth, and take off the cushion covers and wash them as well.  Really not for the faint of heart; when we got the covers stripped we found a cringe-worthy growth of mold on the foam.  Fortunately neither of us are allergy-prone.  Three laundry loads and half a bottle of Amazon Amazing Mildew Away later, we were ready to reassemble our bedroom.

"Uh, babe? You don't want to see this ..."

Here’s what we learned: It really is a lot easier to make the bed with custom-fitted sheets.   On the other hand, it’s crazy-challenging to try and fold the darn things to store them.  Now, I think I’ll head off and cut myself a bouquet of lilies.

Reward time!

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Forward Progress

As you probably know if you’re a regular reader, our boat is on land now, waiting for the hull to dry out enough to apply new bottom paint.  And it’s humid summertime in the Chesapeake, and a thick-hulled old boat that has been in the water for many years, adding up to very slow progress.  We’ve gotten lots of suggestions for how to accelerate the bottom drying.  Some are really quite clever: making a tent of plastic below the boat’s waterline, blowing hot air on it, using a dehumidifier.  Some were meant in fun just to make us laugh (and goodness knows, laughter is needed right now): Put the boat on a truck and take it to Arizona! Get all your friends to save all those little desiccant packets that come with new electronics! The one that cracked me up the most came in an email from Tom and Karen D:

Karen writes:
Tom and I have some experience with drying out items; our eldest (and somewhat absent-minded) grandson often wears his clip-on cell phone right into the pool.  You could adapt our method to speed along the drying.  First, get a VERY big bowl and fill it with uncooked rice ... ;-P

Tom writes:
Ahem.  I have some reservations about the scalability of Karen's solution ...  although when you are finished you could throw a stir-fry party for the entire marina and then some.

Last winter someone decided they needed our extension ladder more than we did, so they stole it. We usually used that ladder when our boat is out of the water for service.  The marina loaned us this lovely set of stairs instead, one of many comforts making our life on the hard a little easier.  Every time I climb down these, I'm either the first female president of the US coming out of Air Force One, or a famous movie star arriving on location in some distant and exotic spot to film the next blockbuster.  What can I say?  I lead a rich fantasy life.

We really needed the laughs, because Monday was just a crash-and-burn kind of day, that ended with us sitting in the cockpit of our “condo on the hill” as our friends have dubbed our boat that’s still not back in the water.  We were sipping on (warm) rum and water, seriously discussing the possibility of moving off the boat until the project was complete.  The little air conditioner we’d bought to take the edge off the heat couldn’t quite keep up.  Our little fridge was too wimpy and too little – we were commiserating with friends Liz and Matt, who are also on the hard for an extended period of time waiting for their boat to dry, that after a while without refrigeration you just start craving leafy green vegetables - which of course are the hardest to store, and hence the first to go, without a fridge.  And granted the air was pretty warm so our water tank was too, but we hadn’t had actual hot water since early July.  Where would we go?  Probably some extended-stay motel, anyplace with fully powered air conditioning and a working toilet and the ability to take a shower without packing a tote bag with towel and shampoo and walking across the party pavilion area to the marina bathhouse.

Everything was breaking on Monday.

We were coming back from running some errands when our aging Audi stopped running.  Just right in the middle of the road, with no warning.  Fortunately, that loyal vehicle had waited until we were only about 100 yards from our home marina.  Dan was able to coast it in to a safe location, and we walked the rest of the (short) way back to the boat.  We’ve been hoping to make the car last one more year until we head out on our next cruise – when of course we won’t need a car – and replace it when we come back.  Were we asking too much?

The other thing that broke on Monday?  The holding tank.  Eeeeuw.  Not to go into too much detail, but the thing was meant to work on a boat in the water, not on land.  Without being buffered by the water, the temperature in the tank got too hot for the little enzymes to do their waste-digesting function; and without being agitated by the motion of the ocean, solids gradually settled until the bottom of the tank contained a thick layer of stinking sludge too viscous to be lifted by the pump.

But you know what?  None of that mattered, because we’d also had a long conversation with the marina service manager and a series of emails with the manufacturer’s rep for the new bottom paint, and our wait is over!   As schedules and weather permit – since it would hardly do to paint and then have an afternoon thunderstorm wash away the effort – we can continue with our bottom paint project and get back in the water.

PS: The problem with the car turned out to be the fuel pump, which we had just replaced last June.  The Audi dealer here in town, Criswell Audi, is replacing the pump at no charge, even though it was out of warranty – thank you guys for your integrity and customer service.  And John, the manager of our marina ship’s store,  suggested a great new product to address the holding tank issues.  So life really is getting good, here on the hill.

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Clothing and Laundry - Afloat

When we first moved aboard in 2002, I knew I had several more years to work as the skipper of a LMD (large mahogany desk) in Washington DC.  Washington was a place known, if not for conservative politics, certainly for conservative clothing styles.  And at home I was going to have one small locker, room for 11 hangers plus 5 shelves about 18 inches wide, to hold all my “stuff” except shoes and underwear.  The new job didn’t faze me, but dressing for it was going to be a challenge!

I’m an engineer, so I seriously overanalyzed my wardrobe in preparation, and made myself some rules.   Some of what I learned was boat-specific, and some could be useful for any downsizer.

I wanted to make sure I had enough outfits to get me through a week or two of work.  Then I wanted to be prepared with clothing for other likely events in my life: something to wear for a fancy evening or New Year’s Eve party; something for “lunch with the girls;” something for a wedding.  It felt more like I was packing for a long trip, than for the next 7 years of my life.  And indeed, when I was done, everything fit into 2 carryon bags.

I selected twice as many tops as bottoms -- who remembers your pants, anyway, or whether you’ve worn the same pair twice in the same week?  I was counting on making a bigger impression with what I said, than with what I wore.  Who knows?  Maybe the constraints of the clothing pushed me to greater professional achievement hoping my comments overshadowed my style!

I embraced high-tech synthetic fabrics.  Almost everything was hand- or machine-washable and didn’t wrinkle.  I had fewer pieces than when we lived on land, therefore could spend a bit more on each.

I picked one colorway, and stuck to it.  That first winter, it was black – white – red, and shades of these including gray, pink, burgundy.  Every top went with at least two pairs of pants, every pair of pants went with at least two tops.  I was the mix and match queen.  By sticking to one range of colors, I only needed one set of accessories – shoes, belts, socks, purses, briefcase – in black/gray; I didn’t also need brown and also need navy blue.  I made it work with four pairs of pants (black, charcoal gray, winter white);  eight or ten tops - sweaters, shirts, blouses, a mix of styles and fabrics, mostly solids but one or two with patterns, again in that same limited range of colors; three blazers; several scarves that took up almost no space but could jazz up a look.  For dressy, I had a pair of slinky bronze pants and an ivory lace shirt, and a black halter top and black skirt that I could put together to make a little black dress, or mix the black halter with the bronze slinky pants, or the white shirt with the black skirt and one of the blazers or a scarf.  Weekends were jeans and t-shirts and turtlenecks and sweatshirts.  Then the shoes: three pair of everyday shoes (can you guess? Black flats in two different styles, gray pumps) one pair of strappy sandals with rhinestones for dressy events, tennis shoes, sea boots and deck shoes and hiking boots.  Summer was the same drill, only in white and tan and a soft green.  The system served me well for the 7 years I continued to work.

My clothing locker.  Honest, it's not staged! But I did want to show that (a) I really do keep everything in just one set of colors; and (b) it really is small!

Fast forward to my retirement date of 9/9/09 – I hung up the phone on my last-ever teleconference and we prepared to head out.  I showed up at Goodwill to donate armloads of business clothing in dark, somber colors.  Now I could wear turquoise, and orange.  Together.


We’d been warned not to bring cotton t-shirts and jeans on our voyage south because cotton held odors, took a lot of water to wash and took forever to dry.  So our cruising wardrobes consisted largely of nylon Hawaiian shirts and quick-dry shorts, along with some SFP-50 sunblock long-sleeve shirts and long, lightweight pants.  Also along for the trip were one nice outfit for going out and another for looking respectful when meeting customs agents, a complete set of polar fleece long underwear, tencel underwear, and several swimsuits each.  Everything could be hand-washed in a sink using very little water, and hung dry.  We had no washing machine on board, so for towels and sheets we pretty much needed a laundromat.  Where we could, we supported the entrepreneurial spirit of one of the local people who were only too glad to wash and fold our laundry for just a few dollars.

This little gadget is wonderful for drying small pieces in limited space - here, our dive booties.   And, it stores flat - perfect for the boat. I'd never seen these hangers in the U.S.

Then, we got into historically-accurate reenacting with a focus on maritime,(photos, for example, here ) and all my careful wardrobe logic went totally out the window porthole.  Of course there was the storage issue: this stuff wasn’t exactly used very often so the space we were devoting to it was a big luxury.  The real news, though, came in the actual wearing of these clothes; we relearned what our forefathers knew.  Loose, light, natural fabrics – in this case, our linen shirts and sailors’ slops – are fantastically cool, easy to move around in, and durable.  They surprised us by beating the most high-tech of our modern clothing for comfort.  And check out the washing instructions that are sewn right into the label!  

Laundry instructions on my linen 17th century sailor's shirt: "Dip in creek.  Beat on rock.  Hang in tree to dry."

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The Waiting Game

July 18: 22%

July 25: 21%

July 31: 19-1/2%

The numbers scrawled on our hull in black marker tell a story.  The fact that they are declining, that’s good.  The fact that they are declining very slowly, that’s not so good.  These numbers represent the moisture meter readings that the marina is taking every week to determine when we have dried out enough for the paint to adhere properly.  Since we’ve been living aboard, the boat has been in the water year-round for ten years, so it’s hardly surprising that it’s wet.   But here’s the thing:  In the manufacturer’s happy world, the hull would dry to 10% or less before we applied the new paint.  At this current rate of decline, that would be … let me think now … November.  How does November sound?  Have we got anything to do between now and November?

We’ve settled in for the long haul, here on dry land.  Our air conditioner and refrigerator both need seawater to work properly; we’ve invested in an apartment-window-type air conditioner unit and a dorm style fridge.  Both are smaller and less powerful than what we’re used to, but they’re helping to make life on the hard a little less like camping out.

What do we do?  Read, write, socialize, take day trips, work on boat projects (when it’s not too hot; in fact there are some projects best done on dry land.)  In short, other than the obvious exception of sailing, we do pretty much whatever we’d do if we were in the water.  Which is as it should be, because in fact we are at home, same friends, same community, just our home has been temporarily relocated slightly.  And the other thing we do?  Wait.  I’m pretty certain we will work to find a solution that doesn’t involve sitting on this hill until November – when it would be too cold to paint anyway.  I’m not so good at waiting.  I’d rather watch paint dry.