all clogged up

So... I have to admit to a major F-up with my galley sink. I put coffee grounds down the sink every day and know others who do as well, and in two-and-a-half years this has never been a problem. But last week I cooked up some ground beef that was 80/20 instead of my usual super lean 94/6, and I decided I needed to drain off that grease. And it just didn't occur to me in the moment that putting that grease down the galley sink was a huge no-no. I saw it start hardening in the sink and tried to wipe it up but too much had already gone down the drain. Very rookie mistake... I was just too caught up in my cooking and not thinking things through.

A few days later... the sink drained more and more slowly and for the last three days it has been fully stopped. I have poured boiling water and plunged, to no avail. I tried one of the other tips from The Boat Galley, baking soda and vinegar, but it just foams up into the sink instead of down into the clog. I won't have any cash until Wednesday, but then I will try to pick up some Super Digest-It enzyme-based drain cleaner that will, fingers crossed, eat through the grease. (Normal household drain cleaner will eat right through the hoses aboard so that isn't an option.)  

 

The PVC to hose connection looks to be on the permanent side, so I think if I have to disconnect them to clear it, I will have to invest in new hose and PVC... more of a project than I really wanted to add to my plate right now. I scooped and turkey-bastered all the water in the two sinks into a bucket and then tried the baking soda and vinegar concoction again, but if that doesn't help, I'll have to keep doing dishes in the bathhouse sink this week. Not fun. 

Yep, living the dream...

downsizing

Being a hoarder and a liveaboard are not particularly congruent lifestyles. I've had a problem with hoarding for a long time. And I'm not just being facetious when I use that term. Anyone who saw my various homes before moving aboard can vouch for that. Why do I still have unopened mail that is a decade old? Why do I have every little random knick-knack or pair of spare shoe laces or two-year-old grocery store receipts? It's a sickness and it is unbelievably easy to get so buried in "stuff" that it seems impossible to dig out so you give up and learn to live among piles and stacks and towering clutter.

But I have been on a mission to get organized, clean up the boat, and downsize. I gave away beautiful, expensive shoes but it was very, very hard. I gave away six pairs of shoes in one fell swoop a few weeks ago. That's more pairs of shoes than a lot of guys even own. Along with them were sweaters, some running tops, and a cute sundress. Just an hour after taking the deep breathe and putting it all in a box marked "free" by the recycle bin at the marina, some friends dropped by for drinks. One of them said to me, "Hey, there's a whole bunch of great stuff someone gave away and I thought you would like it!" He proceeded to try to hand me back half the things I had just painfully let go. I yelled at him "Oh my God, what are you doing?! Get that stuff off the boat; it was soooo hard for me to let all that go, don't bring it back in here!" We got a good laugh out of that.

I think a lot of the saving every little thing is that I have never had any financial security in my life. Things are boom or bust, usually bust. Every year I am more broke than the last. So to toss out a sweater because I don't have space for it right now is as if I will never have another sweater. Many cruisers have plenty of money, even if they talk as if they don't. They eat out, they buy sails when they want them, and they don't worry about having enough money to do laundry. That is not my life. I can't buy a space heater for the season and then just toss it and buy a new one next year. Not only is that wildly wasteful, I simply can't count on having the money next winter to buy another $30 or $50 or $120 space heater. So I tend to hold onto every little thing lest I need it tomorrow or next week or next year.

I am definitely past the sentimentality of having things. They really are just things and getting rid of the things does not mean getting rid of the memories that went with them. But I still struggle with keeping things out of financial fear of not being able to replace them. I don't know that I will ever be able to cure myself of that. But I need to be free of all the clutter and unnecessary stuff. I keep reminding myself that having a peaceful, uncluttered environment will help me in my efforts to have a peaceful, uncluttered mind and spirit.

So, what's the impetus for this post right now? I need cash and could save myself $57 today (and each month going forward) by bugging out of my storage unit. So, I had to light a fire under my ass and make it happen.  Here's the time-lapse of the storage unit each day before I started sorting, tossing, and hauling on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. (Huge thanks to my dockmate Stan for letting me borrow his car to get this done!)

I bartered away my big printer/scanner/fax for lunch, dinner, and drinks. I donated nine pairs of designer shoes, a Litter Quitter, and a couple designer silk blouses to the local Lutheran Mission Society (don't even get me started on how Goodwill is evil and unworthy of your donations or business). Cardboard boxes were emptied, broken down, and put in recycling. Four big black garbage bags were filled and put in the trash. Below is Saturday, start and finish, and a shot of the ninja who apparently stole all my stuff. 

At the end there was a cardboard box with three Christmas ornaments, a set of mantel stocking hangers that spells "J-O-Y," and a spritz cookie gun. They will either be donated or given to my friend who is letting me store the last boxes in his basement. (Big thanks, Karl!) He also gets the laundry basket, the car clothes-hanger, and a beautiful mirror I kept telling myself I could find a way to mount in the boat.  That leaves me with an inflatable mattress, a box of CDs, a dinette cushion, a box of files and office supplies, and a box with an old-school film camera, diplomas, and all my running medals. That's it. Everything else I own is aboard. Well, my dodger frame is being stored by a friend and there is a box of all my photographs from childhood onward, but that is missing-in-action and may be gone forever. That would be a shame, but not much I can do about it. (Fingers crossed it's in the back of a closet at a friend's house but he said the closet is too packed with stuff to see.)

As for the boat, I have been making a bit of progress. I think a week ago was the first time a couple of my friends came for dinner and were actually able to sit and eat at the newly uncluttered dinette table. I had gotten down to a short-list of more manageable organizing projects I planned to tackle day by day: nav station (a biggie), bookshelves, clean the head and better organize toiletries, organize and stow the huge bag of clean clothes. Unfortunately, I just added two boxes and five shopping bags of stuff to the mix from the storage unit. Sigh. Just over a week before I start training for the new job so every day will have to be productive. I was getting used to my new de-cluttered living space and I cannot go back to what it was like before.

I still have my work cut out for me getting things organized aboard, and my boat will never be austere and empty because it is my home, but being out of the storage unit is a huge relief. And in our hyper-materialistic society, declaring my independence from all those things is a defiant and revolutionary act of freedom. Nothing is left to tie me down.

be at peace

Three days after my 14-miler I ramped up to 16. Just shy of a week later I was planning to run 18 but the weather was gorgeous and somehow my legs talked me into just going ahead and knocking out 20. This photo is right after I finished. It was a long, grueling run, and I was pretty damn sore for two days afterwards, but very glad I got it done. This weekend I'll run shorter and then hit another 20 next weekend. The 50K may not be a personal record time as hoped, but I will be able to get through it 5 weeks from now. Then my focus will go back to a solid 30 miles per week and losing weight. I gained back 3 pounds on my trip but another 5 since my return. It's just enough that I can't fit my smaller, sexier clothes and I feel squishy instead of hot. My goal at the end of last year was to lose 25 pounds. I lost 18 but gained back 8 so the setback is very frustrating and it's always that last 10-15 that are the hardest to lose and the easiest to gain back.

I've been trying to get the boat organized and cleaned up. I'm still a long way from the finish line, though not sure that's one I will ever really cross. But living in a jumbled hoarder-esque disaster zone wears on me and scares off any guys who see my boat (not always a bad thing, I guess). But a few days ago I did actually locate a countertop underneath all the dishes, condiments, and liquor bottles in the galley.  The fridge is back on the fritz, either running like crazy and freezing everything or off. I'm running it a few hours and then turning it off the rest of the day to try to avoid losing any more delicate veggies.

Since I'm carless, I've repurposed a couple of nets that are meant to be car trunk organizers. I mounted this one in the galley to hold various random items. It also somewhat obscures the window so I can still get some natural sunlight in and see the weather but pretend I have a little privacy. Now that it's in the 30s and 40s outside, however, the condensation around port lights is bad so this evening I put the Reflectix insulation back in that one. I'm in the process of mounting various other small net bags for organizing things, but I think the fundamental reality to getting organized will be getting rid of stuff. I've already gotten rid of probably 90% of my worldly possessions but I still can't fit on this boat, so more will have to go. The decisions are difficult and I am, admittedly, a hoarder. I think a lot of it springs from being perpetually broke my whole life and never knowing if I'll have the money to replace whatever I throw out or give away.

In the process of cleaning and organizing, naturally I encountered more mold than I cared to. Although it is less than in the past, it is still an ongoing battle. I wipe surfaces down with a tea tree oil solution, but need to be doing it weekly if I'm going to stay on top of it. I think the best solution is the tea tree gel pots but they are soooo expensive. But I have to admit the price may be worth saving myself the aggravation and allergies.

Winter aboard is truly upon us here in Annapolis. The cats wanted to get outside today but it was very cold and windy so I put their cuddle cups on deck and Hunter happily climbed into one as you can see. Yesterday the winter water was set up and I expect the dock water to be turned off shortly, so I topped off my water tank yesterday afternoon. That should last almost two weeks. Tomorrow I will need to set up some lights in the engine room to keep the engine and water pump from freezing. A few days ago, when it was still warmish out, I tried to start the engine. The starter sort of buzzed but the engine made no attempt to turn over. I've actually never had that problem before. So, I've been stranded in my slip for 9 months when I had planned to be out at least twice a month. I hate being a dock queen. Even if sailing itself doesn't excite me, I want to get the boat out, exercise the systems, practice my docking, anchoring, and general boat-handling skills. It's just depressing. I'm so sick of this marina and want the boat ready to leave when my contract is up at the end of March. 
 

I don't know exactly when I'll leave or where I'll go. With no real job and no guy here in Annapolis, there is nothing to keep me here. But there is nothing to go to anywhere else, either. But I don't want to just sit here while life passes me by. Even if I go "south" and turn around and come back, I feel I at least have to leave Annapolis sooner than later.

When I was on my trip, everything upended, uncertain, nonetheless I felt centered, balanced, at peace (though never content). Lately I feel off my game, frustrated and anxious. I need to get back to that place where I am centered regardless of what is swirling around me. I know I have it inside me, and just need to clear away all the other noise to get there again. If I have to choose just one word to describe myself it is resilient. That isn't necessarily the quality that would be my first choice, but I am grateful to have the resilience that I do. I just have to use it to help me get back to my center, to be at peace and perceive a deeper love.

april showers

A week ago Monday I had an opportunity to go out fishing. Although I'm allergic to seafood and don't really want to hurt or kill nature for entertainment, I hate to pass up an opportunity to get out on the water and I want to develop skills to serve as a mate on fishing charters. Those mates can make some good tips on a half- or full-day charter, and if I can do the job looking cuter than the usual old salts, well, I figure my tips would be even better. I've found that "soft skills" aren't much rewarded financially and are easily outsourced offshore, so I'm on a mission to stockpile some "real" skills like fishing, sewing, and fixing mechanical things. On my few trips out rockfishing I've learned how to put out the planer boards, clip in and send out the trolling lines, keep an eye out for knockdowns, bring in the lines, tidy up the reels for storage, and clean the lures. I've brought in a few fish, but I still need to learn how to safely net the fish, remove the hook, and filet it up. Although I learned a lot on this past trip (thanks Cap'n Chris and Mate Bob!) and we had 14 lines out, we didn't get so much as a nibble. It didn't look like other boats were having much more luck, though, so I don't feel too bad. The fishing gods must have sensed me typing this and in walked the captain of a local charter boat asking if I could work a charter this Friday. Fingers crossed I do well, make some good money, and get invited back for more work. I should be able to make as much in tips as if waiting tables, but with the potential for more. And it's time on the water, getting some exercise, and developing a skill I can take with me anywhere.

As you may recall, one Tuesday the car died and the following Tuesday I learned the A/C in the car doesn't work and I lost all my important keys (other than car keys). Perhaps the most important of the lost keys was the only key to the lock on my storage unit. So last Tuesday I started my errands with heading to the storage unit to pay the bill and see if they would cut the lock for me. The manager said of course they could cut the lock...for a fee. My heart sank; I'm painfully broke and whatever it cost was coming straight out of the small grocery budget. Then he smiled and said "Just kidding! Of course we'll cut it for free." I just had to sign a liability waiver saying I'm me and won't be upset they cut the lock, et cetera. Annapolis Self Storage rocks! Sparks flew, it smelled like melting metal, and voila! The 5'x5' unit is not even waist high with stuff, much of which just needs sorting, tossing, or donating.

Items I like to keep in the car were at the top in the storage unit, e.g. a trunk organizer, jumper cables, beach chair, hockey skates, emergency overnight bag, and my portable backgammon case. It was a rainy gloomy day so I hit up a fellow liveaboard and suggested I drop by after picking up my groceries and we could play some backgammon and hide out from the rain. He's very competitive, a racer. I'm not. I wanted him to have an edge since he was new to backgammon so I let him pick the black dice, which I suspect to roll doubles on a higher-than-average basis. Although he did roll doubles often, apparently I just have a gift for rolling more of them. Even when I didn't need them my double sixes kept coming up. After just three games he said he never wanted to hear me say "box cars!" again. I guess there's a hidden competitive streak in me, after all. So I promised to let him win at chess.

Having totally lost track of time hiding from the rain, it was about 1:00AM as I was finally heading home. But if it's Tuesday the universe has it in for me, and the car was dead again. I got a ride home only to find that the gasket in one of the port lights had come out of its track and what seemed like buckets of water had rained onto the settee and pillows. There's really no fixing it when wet, so I had to pile towels and a basin below the port to try to catch the rain. A couple days later I managed to get the gasket back in, though it still leaks a bit (I seriously hate the design of these port lights), but I'm still without a car. Every time it freaks out and fails it's been raining. The dealer is thinking it may need a new computer, but the part is elusive and I think they need to figure out how water is intruding and shorting it out so I'm not continually replacing an expensive and hard-to-get part. In the two months I've had the car it has run less often than it's been broken down. At this point whenever I'm about to cry I just start laughing kind of hysterically, like I'm on the verge of a psychotic break. At least I can look at the situation and laugh!

The rain, south winds, and high tides converged to flood the parking garage at the marina with a good 5 inches of water. Water didn't come over the docks but it was close and the boat was high above the pier. I wore my foulies all day Wednesday and had to sit on the deck to jump down.

After what seemed like endless rains, we got some sunny, warmish weather and the dock water was turned on. I borrowed a pressure washer from a dockmate and spent Sunday giving Ambrosia a bikini boat wash. I spent four hours going over the decks with the pressure washer. The boat went from gray to white. One guy said he always found it cathartic to clean the boat like that, and I have to agree. She was just caked with grime and it definitely gives a sense of accomplishment to blast it away. By the time I reached the cockpit I was feeling rushed because the temperature was dropping and winds were kicking up. I didn't want to be caught out in a thunderstorm. Gratefully it passed us by. I spent another hour working on spots by hand and still have more to do to clean up the topsides, but she looks so much cleaner and brighter now.

Come Sunday evening I had a bunch of chicken to cook up but no one was up for coming over for dinner and drinks so I was on my own. I've always left grilling to men. Everyone needs their own "turf," their own things they are good at, skills they get to "own." Since I'm a pretty decent cook and baker, I like to be in charge of my galley. So I've always left the "killing beast over fire" Neanderthal thing to guys. I let them own that primal manly task. But being a single gal and (perhaps overly, painfully, stridently) independent, I have to do for myself these days. For a while I've been using a little George Foreman grill, which I actually quite like. However, it only fits a couple chicken breasts or burgers and if I'm cooking in larger quantities (as is often the case), it takes a long time and there is a lot of clean up. So, this past Sunday I got a fellow dockmate to show me how to light the communal grill by the dinghy dock and lo-and-behold, I grilled up my first batch of chicken by myself. Folks walking by ooh-ed and aah-ed; one family said they wouldn't have gone to Boatyard for dinner if I'd been grilling when they walked by, another guy said it smelled delicious and could smell it a block away. I'd say the real skill in it was marinating the chicken for a few days in a Ziploc bag with olive oil, garlic, fresh ground pepper, and kosher salt, but I guess my grilling abilities aren't too shabby, either.

I had been planning on moving slips but don't like the slip open on the main pier. I'd be stuck between two power boats (which cuts off breezes and could make me feel boxed in) and the view would be of a shabby boat at the marina next door. I'm going to pass. I was mostly resigned to staying put, which pup dog would probably like and would avoid drama dealing with Comcast, but the parking garage noise and being right next to another liveaboard really do bother me. There is another slip possibly opening up on a pier with a gate (so less risk of strangers walking up to the boat) and the docking situation would likely be relatively simple, but that slip would cost almost $1,000 more per year than where I'm at...money I obviously don't have right now. So, we'll see. I think I would have more privacy and peace and quiet there. It's an adjustment being in a more urban/commercial marina with all the noise and foot traffic, but I think what is harder for me is all the liveaboards, gossip, and unsolicited advice. I've got to get the boat fixed up so I can take off on some mini-cruises and get away.

Although it'd be nice to fall in love or at least find a good guy and have a playmate this spring and summer, I'm so thankful that I am not trapped in a stale or bad relationship. I'm saddened when I see someone encoupled with the wrong person, staying by default because inaction is easier than action. There is an enormous opportunity cost to doing that because the love of your life might walk right past you but not see you because you were on another's arm. I keep telling myself (and want to yell at my friends): Don't settle! You deserve better. The person you're with deserves better. No one should ever be pressured to get married or have children, nor pressure anyone else to do so. Marriage is hard. Marriage is a partnership and a sacrifice. If you don't wake up every morning wanting to be there, you are shortchanging yourself and your "partner." If you wouldn't stay if there weren't a legal bond between you, you sure as hell shouldn't be together. Too many people marry for all the wrong reasons, under all the wrong pressures. Too many women marry because they want a wedding, because all their friends are doing it, or because they think they can't have a kid on their own. If a guy truly loves me he won't need legal papers, or a name change, or a joint checking account. He'll show he loves me by being there in my bed every morning and not fucking anyone else. By being his own person, independent, self-fulfilled, seizing and sharing his dreams.

One thing I think we often forget is that we are not responsible for anyone else's happiness. We are each responsible for our own happiness and only when we love ourselves, are independent and complete in ourselves, can we truly love someone  else, seek only to lift them up, not pull them down or revolve around them. I don't want to be the center of anyone's universe (well, other than pup dog's). It's too much pressure. And it isn't love, it's obsession or dependence; there's a very big difference between those things and love. Jealous people, like drunks and addicts, don't truly love. They lack the self-value and self-confidence to do so.

I consider having some fun here and there, but I know I won't be satisfied with that. Even if it's just a physical thing, and especially if it's just a physical thing, I don't want to be with anyone that there isn't just this immediate, gut, pheromonal desire to rip each others' clothes off. I deserve that kind of passion. Anything less than that is selling myself short. So I have to stick with my mantras: Don't settle. Just keep running. Be the lioness, not the gazelle.

feng shui (project: organize and paint)

I bought some dry erase boards in hopes of mounting them and using them to help stay organized and on top of things. Naturally, the one that I mounted promptly fell off the wall in less than a day. One laid on top of the pile of crazy consuming the nav desk and said "Get your space organized and zen and your mind will follow." Guests aboard looked at it, looked at the crazy piles of stuff everywhere, and laughed.

But your space and your insides do seem to reflect and influence each other. I aspire to make the boat clutter-free, with nice matching cushions and such. I had bought cotton net bags to hang for storage and after initially buying a set of multiple colors decided I should go with all natural off-white ones so it doesn't look like some Deadhead rainbow inside the boat. But the reality is that the colored ones are me and the plain dull ones are what I aspire to, but will never be. Similarly, wind chimes on a boat are nutty and mine are very hippy-dippy. I have this theoretical vision of the boat without them, just clean lines, dull and "yachty," but I simply couldn't do it. I have to have my wind chimes that say "breathe" and "namaste" with a simple bell beneath them. Yes, I'll have to toss them in a drawer when sailing, but the little tchotchkes make me feel at home, they say something to me or remind me of some trip or time in my life that I'm not ready to forget. I know they are just stuff, just things, but I've lost, sold, and given up so much, I can't quite let go of the little I have left.

There is still more to be done and it will always be a work in progress, but here are some "before" and "after" shots of the cabin. Yeah, don't judge me; I'm doing the best I can.

The galley is still a work in progress, and let's just not talk about the nav desk yet. That's on the "to do" list for later today... or tomorrow. The real "project" aside from cleaning and organizing was painting the cabin. The painted area had been horribly moldy when I bought the boat. Although the mold has long been dealt with, the black stains left behind were not going to come out. I bought some anti-mold paint and had it tinted. The first coat came out bright white rather than the soft cream I was going for. It had this stark "production boat" feel I couldn't live with. The light color also made the nice headliner, which is a bisque color, seem dingy.

I set aside enough of the original color to do a base coat on the other side so that both sides would match and then took the 3/4 of a quart back to the hardware store to see if they could re-tint it for me. They had to experiment and just sort of make up a color, but it worked. It's not a shade I would've originally chosen but I actually love it. It's sort of a clay color; not quite tan, not quite gray, with a hint of green. It definitely makes the cabin feel warmer and looks much classier than the shabby mold-stained walls I had before. I spent a few hours cursing prior owners for the tacky rope light and gazillion screws they put in the walls to mount it that I had to remove before I could clean and paint. My plan is to run a piece of line where the rope light had been, using some of the gazillion holes already drilled there, so I can hang the net bags between port lights for more storage space for small, lightweight things like hats, gloves, and sunglasses. We'll see; these ideas usually take a few iterations of brainstorming and tweaking to get worked out. I also took some natural-colored cotton fabric and spray-glued it to the Reflectix "curtains" in the larger windows that don't open. It's nice not to have all that shiny silver everywhere making the boat look like a space ship. However, the mast still looks like a big shiny silver disco pole... for now.

The cove I'm in, and from the looks of it all the way across Back Creek, is frozen over and covered with snow on top of the ice. Can I just say I'm ready for spring now? The water pump keeps freezing up, so I haven't had running water aboard for a couple of days. I keep flipping on the water heater trying to generate enough heat in that section of the engine room to thaw the line, but it's getting pretty frustrating. Both sinks are full of dishes and taking them ashore will be a total pain in the ass, but likely the only option at this point. The few days of warmer weather can't arrive soon enough. Last week we had two dangerous winter liveaboard incidents here. First, a liveaboard downtown slipped on his icy deck and fell in the water; luckily other liveaboards heard the splash and, together with the fire department, rescued him. Second, two boats in Eastport burned to the waterline and were destroyed; luckily no one was aboard either at the time. These are things my nightmares are often made of nowadays.

I put silicone at the area around a shroud that had been the apparent source of a leak. Unfortunately, that isn't solving the problem. I think melting snow and ice are now getting through from underneath the toe rail. Another Gulfstar 37 owner is solving this problem by removing the toe rail. The replacement toe rail has breaks at each shroud, so there is no way for water to sneak under the toe rail at the chain plates. A very nice solution, but I'm concerned about how costly that change will be.

I missed a week of running with all the snow and bitter cold, but all that cleaning, organizing, and painting was still a decent workout. This week we're back on track and pup dog was a trooper running six miles in the bitter cold with me. I had the benefit of Yaktrax but we had to stop frequently to pull snow and salt from between pup's pads. It feels great to be running again and although the dieting is tough right now, I know it won't be as hard once my mileage is back up and my metabolism is faster.

A few weeks ago I had called the pump out boat but they were frozen in. The following Saturday they were socked in with fog. So the next Saturday I tried again. The tank wasn't yet full, but another couple weeks and I'd be in a jam. But I was in luck, it was actually a relatively nice and warm day for this winter full of polar vortexes and such. When the boat pulled up I was surprised to see the cute floppy-haired guy who'd been running the boat over the summer; I hadn't seen him since fall arrived. It's hard to explain or pin down why, but when I see him I perk up. I'm sure you've had that happen; someone who just makes your eyes light up, your posture straighten, a smile spread across your face. That's what I think of as the power of pheromones; mother nature just saying there is chemistry there. To me, it's an absolutely necessary, but not sufficient, condition to being with someone. If you don't have that spark right off, it won't ever come. I could definitely be wrong, but I feel like the chemistry is mutual.

He asked about the pup dog, which was sweet. I told him I was planning on leaving soon to head south, and he said we had to stop talking about getting a drink at the pub and make it happen. I scurried below to fetch a card and gave it to him. Time to walk the talk if he's for real. The older guy on the pump out boat was probably rolling his eyes and looking at his watch as we chatted away while vacuuming the shit out of the boat. A handful of hours later he texted me. But it's been 10+ days of texting back and forth and...  that's it. I don't want to play games but I also don't want to scare him off--not everyone can handle my bluntness and the subtleties of sarcasm and teasing don't translate well by text so I try to avoid them. But, seriously? If you've asked this mermaid for a tour of her boat and she's saying "hey, let's get together," just make it happen. I'm always catching sailors I'm not trying to hook and when I finally have one I want on my line, I can't seem to reel him in. Sigh.

pup waiting for me to come ashore

ice kept creeping closer to the boat

the tide got too low for the ice eater

The loose working plan has been to leave Annapolis as of March. I believe my slip has already been rented out. I was thinking that I'd just be underway for a week and then stop somewhere for a month or two to work and keep doing that until I ended up somewhere I wanted to stay longer. Of course, I still have a lot of work to be done on the boat to be able to head out, such as get and install solar panels, but even with cash in hand I can't get guys in Annapolis to show up to do the work. Everyone here just wants to curl up for the winter and drink. But as I am used to in this life, the brief upswings never last long. The work in Miami dried up a little over two weeks ago. Back I go to looking for research gigs or, more likely, waiting tables. Fingers crossed I line something up within the next two weeks as I never have much of any financial cushion. Looks like my big cruise this winter will probably just be over to Spa Creek. I'm disappointed, of course. But the devil you know is better than the one you don't; right? I just need to make the best of my time here and my friends here and keep living the dream.

all wrapped up

Mike and Jen helping fix the inside-out jib.

A little over a week ago I was planning a nice day cruise with friends. It would have to be shorter than usual due to the need to time the tides, and no one would want to go swimming in the 60 degree water, but it would still be a nice, crisp, sunny day for a sail. A lot of preparation was needed to get the boat ready to go, both because of loose items on deck and inside, and because the roller furler for the jib still needed to be rationalized. Mike, Jen, and I spent a good three hours getting her ready to go. I'd had a couple of experienced sailors not get the jib set up quite right, so we needed to unfurl it and figure out how to get the line to furl it in the right direction. It had kept wrapping inside-out. My jib has a wide blue border which when the sail is furled provides UV protection to extend the life of the sail. We needed to get enough line wrapped on the furling drum and then have the drum spin in the correct direction so that the cover would be on the outside. A few times unfurling and furling the jib and Jen used her geometry skills to figure it out for us. She may not be a sailor (yet), but she's smart and determined, which is exactly what we needed to fix the problem.

I had realized in an "a-ha!" moment back in September that the reason the jib wasn't trimming properly to sail upwind was that we were using the wrong blocks for the jib sheets. Prior trips out the jib sheets had been run through turning blocks just aft of the winches in the cockpit. To get a tighter angle on the sail to head upwind, we needed to first run the sheets through blocks farther forward. Those blocks have been shackled to some anchor chain up at the bow, likely for safe keeping when the prior owners traded her in. We shackled those blocks to cars on the jib tracks that run along the top of the toe rail on either side of the boat. I've heard that I can get horn cleats that will run on the jib track, which would be much easier for tying my spring lines rather than running the (very long) spring lines through the cars. I would also like to add cam cleats inside the cockpit below the winches as they will be easier for me to manage when singlehanding. The wish list never stops growing it seems.

The dinghy dock high and dry.

With the sails in order we secured the pets below and started the engine. In the cold fall weather it took a few tries to get her to turn over. In the summer she always started on the first go. Diesels just don't like the cold it seems. But we got her running. A couple of hours before high tide the depth sounder said 5 feet. I draw almost five, and the depth alarm beeps incessantly at 5.2 and below. We were now at high tide but when I turned the depth sounder back on we were in 4.4 feet of water. Three days of steady NW winds were blowing water out of the bay, so although the tide was coming in, the water level had continued to fall. We tried pulling her out of the slip on the lines. I tried gunning the engine, which probably just dug us deeper into the mud. After all that preparation, the sails finally in order, our day sail was hard aground. I repeatedly apologized to Mike and Jen but they were great sports and we just hung out in the cockpit and had drinks before strolling down to the pub for a late lunch.

The trip out wasn't only going to be a pleasure cruise, however. The harbormaster's pump out boat has been out of service awaiting a part and my holding tank was full. I also had no idea how much fuel was in the tank and it is best to keep the tank full over the winter to minimize condensation. I do have facilities at my marina and they are not far from my slip, but trust me when I tell you it isn't ideal to have to bundle up, climb up on the pier during a low tide, and run to the head at 3AM. Add rain or snow to the mix and it's even less fun. With the tank full that also means there is sewage sitting in the hoses; over time it will permeate the hose and make the boat very stinky. So, getting over to the fuel dock for a pump out was a priority.

My furry crew can't seem to handle a boat hook.

Midweek I popped by the pub for lunch to see if I might find someone willing to take a little cruise across the creek with me. I probably can handle taking her over by myself just fine, but because my docking situation is a little tight I am more comfortable having someone to help fend me off other boats or pilings while docking. I didn't manage to find anyone at lunchtime but went back about 3PM (circa high tide and the beginning of happy hour). The guy I asked for help initially chided me that I should be able to do it myself without help, but when I mentioned I had a cooler of beer aboard he agreed to come along for the ride. He's an old salt and knows his stuff, so he barked at me a bit for being trepidatious around other boats. He did give me some good tips though to keep moving between gears in short bursts to kick the boat in one direction or another and keep good control over her while docking or waiting to approach the fuel dock. I was surprised to only take 7.4 gallons of fuel. I put some cetane enhancer in before filling her up, but wish I had had stabilizer to add. Now I have the stabilizer, but might need to use up a little fuel to make room for it in the tank. This winter I really have to be diligent about starting the engine once a week to keep her happier, especially if I will have to take her out to find pump out facilities. The harbormaster's office said they will run the pump out boat on Saturdays through the winter, but I'm not exactly holding my breath since they don't even have the boat running at all right now.

My huge, sturdy, lightweight IKEA bag is great for laundry.

After the little cruise across the creek I resigned myself to an evening of laundry. There is free parking at one of the local laundromats, but that one is definitely the kind of place I worry about someone stealing something. Although parking is a nightmare downtown, I still head to the laundromat on Maryland Avenue, which is clean, uncrowded, and I don't worry as much about someone stealing my panties. Although Galway Bay is a pricey watering hole, it is directly across the street from the laundromat so I generally have a pint there and just run across the street to put items in the dryer et cetera. I managed to knock out three loads of laundry in an hour and only drink one pint of Magner's Cider. When I first walked into Galway, a guy stopped me and asked "Was that your plan all along?" I looked at him quizzically. "Was it your plan to put your laundry in and then come here and drink while you wait?" he asked. They seemed to think that was a humorous, but sound, strategy. It does make the whole laundry day experience a little more pleasant, though I would still prefer to have laundry right at my marina.

I tried to get the dog to dress up for Halloween but she wanted nothing to do with it. Myself, I was a corpse bride. I think next year I will wear the gown but have day of the dead makeup. It'd be really nice to have a whole group in that theme or at least have a skeleton groom to complement my costume. The party at Davis' was fun and then I met up with friends for dinner at Vin 909. I had to work the next morning, so I couldn't make it a late night, but it was certainly better than last Halloween.

Winter aboard is here in full force. I definitely need to add a heated mattress pad for the v-berth. The oil-filled radiator is warm, but even with a couple of fans going I am not getting the heat evenly circulated throughout the boat and the salon remains much warmer--perhaps by ten degrees--than the stateroom. I don't really mind bundling up to sleep with flannels, thick socks, a sweatshirt, and hat, but that isn't exactly a sexy nightie and it isn't exactly romantic when an overnight guest is shivering. Now you know the secret to my youthful appearance: the meat-locker temperature of the stateroom is like being cryogenically preserved every night. Just kidding... it's that 45+ sunblock, being a non-smoker, chipmunk cheeks, and being young at heart.

Perhaps the mattress pad should be a reward if I ever manage to clean up the interior of the boat! I have had her in a pretty good state at points, but the last flurry of cleaning and organizing was interrupted half-way, so now piles of clothes, kitchenware, and tools are stacked in every available space. I pulled everything out so I could clean and organize storage lockers, but now I am just buried under stuff. Then came moving out of the office, so more stuff came aboard and my car is packed to the brim. I need to get groceries today but there is no where in the car to put a 30 lb. bag of dog food much less any of the other groceries. I have sold, thrown away, or given away probably 90% of my worldly possessions, but let's face it: I still have too much stuff!

I have been storing pots, pans, and food in the cubbies behind the settee and the dinette but am now rethinking that approach. Because dog hair seems to get everywhere in the boat (sigh), I end up having to re-wash all the items stored in those cubbies before I can use them. I also cannot use all the space in those cubbies because I need clearance to lift pots and pans in and out. I am considering using one of the cabinets that currently houses clothes and shoes for the pots and pans, and storing off-season clothing and extra bedding and towels in the cubbies. Then I can fill them all the way up and they will act as insulation against the hull. The problem is those cubbies are prone to terrible condensation because they are against the hull, though it is not as bad now that they are all lined with Reflectix insulation. So, if I put soft goods there instead of pans I have to protect them from the moisture lest they be soaking wet and moldy. I may get oodles of zip-lock bags and/or space bags so items will stay dry. I just have to buckle down, find a few days I can set aside, and tackle the organizing head on. I need to get to it before too long so I can have friends over for cozy dinners aboard and "special cocoa" with peppermint schnapps and baby marshmallows.

I'll leave you with this: Max thinks the top of the dodger is a groovy hammock. Silly cat.