waves

The past month has been marked by waves. Waves upon waves of sadness, but there have also been waves of joy. Water, life, they ebb and flow, bringing bad tidings and good, but ever changing. Knowing that a high tide will come and wash the tears, blood, muck, and hurt back out to sea makes the low tides of my days survivable. 

First things first, I owe you photographs of my beautiful new battery box. The wooden box was custom fabricated and epoxied. It holds my house bank of four 6V "golf cart" batteries and the black box in front is the group 31 dual purpose start battery. The bottom photograph shows the water pump relocated forward near the engine rather than laying loose atop the batteries as in the past.

I finally removed the stand-up portable air conditioner and returned it. It never condensed any water and just operated as a glorified fan. The boat is actually cooler without it! I have the window unit running over the forward hatch and it keeps the v-berth frosty and the rest of the boat comfortable enough. 

I had to finish sanding the brightwork. Here are snaps of the brightwork, before, during, after, and one of me after the final 8-hour day of sanding. I haven't finished the hatch, but can't currently afford the mural I want painted on it, so I figure it's better to leave what varnish is left as protection until I can tackle that project properly.

The new batteries and wiring didn't solve my engine problems, so the electrician removed the starter and took it up to Best Battery in Baltimore for testing. It failed the test so they did a rebuild. Before and after:

In the midst of all the repairs, the electrician had to disconnect and reconnect the water pump frequently to access the starter. Something must have jiggled loose at some point and the pump ran continuously, dumping half my water tank in the bilge. Below is the icky old automatic bilge pump that wasn't doing its job. Now there is a beautiful new automatic pump running well (donated by Doria, thanks!). It gives me peace of mind when I see the red light come on the electrical panel and the pump gurgle for a few seconds to clear the bilge (while my galley sink drains overboard, the head sink drains to the bilge...so the bilge is always getting a fresh influx of water when I wash my face or brush my teeth, yuck.)

I received a lovely bottle of port from a reader. Thanks! (Also pictured a bottle of Italian red I haven't opened yet, a gift from a dockmate). 

The electrician installed the rebuilt starter and miracle of miracles, the engine started right up. Of course, I had 45 gallons of old diesel in the tank I was worried wouldn't cooperate, but I gave it a good dose of tank cleaner and haven't had a problem. (Knock on wood.) Friday the new starter went in and Sunday the boat was out of the slip for the first time since the end of February 2014. 

A friend came to help me on the adventure--a trip down to Thomas Point Light, anchoring out a few hours, and then the hardest part--docking! Coming out of the slip we had our first big surprise. I had the wheel hard a-port but the boat was heading hard to starboard. I freaked out, backed her back in the slip, and fretted a bit. My friend hopped off to look at the rudder and indeed, the steering had gotten reversed. Apparently when my old mechanic and I installed the new engine control cables a year ago and the chain slipped down into the binnacle, we lost the twist in the chain that is needed for the correct steering. We didn't let it stop us, though it made for stressful moments when dodging shoals, crab pots, other vessels, and when docking. 

We went almost to the lighthouse and then headed back north looking for a spot to anchor. Everything shallow enough to be feasible was a minefield of crab pots but we managed it. We anchored out for a few hours, had lunch, and enjoyed the sun and breeze. Enjoying some waves of joy getting my beloved Ambrosia away from the dock at last.

We took some decent waves right on the beam--unable to turn into them quickly enough due to crab pots-- which caused the mini-fridge to tip open and spill its contents everywhere. The fan on top of it tumbled to the floor, pulling the power strip and the computer monitor connected to it to the floor as well. Luckily, nothing was broken, but since every surface on the boat is cluttered, I have a lot of work ahead of me to clear all those surfaces and secure appliances and such with shock cord to prevent mishaps in choppy seas or when heeled over. This was, however, the first cruise when no cats puked. I put them together on a towel in a pop-up dog crate so they wouldn't be able to get sick in some remote locker unbeknownst to me, and so they would be safer from falling objects. It was a good plan that worked out well.

On the way back north we opened the jib and got an extra knot and a half. Naturally, the furling line got fouled beneath the drum rather than wrapping onto it, so I had to go forward and unwind it while carefully jumping back whenever there was slack since the sail would take the slack and fill, spinning off the furler with force. Yes, that is my lovely hatch A/C in the photo. It is too much of a hassle to remove it so we just let it be. And, yep, below you can see the ratty weathered bungee cords keeping my main halyard from slapping against the mast. Don't judge me.

Docking was a major challenge and I freaked out quite a bit. I really don't want to hit another boat so I get very trepidatious in close quarters maneuvering; this is a tight docking situation and a slip I'd never docked her in before. The reversed steering situation didn't help. Gratefully, the dock master was waiting on the pier to throw lines and give advice and we eventually made it in unscathed. But I think next time I will try backing all the way down the fairway and into the slip. I really need someone very experienced to come help me spend three hours going in and out of the slip over and over until it's in my muscle memory and my crocodile brain. But all in, a great trip, a huge relief to get out on the water, and some much needed waves of joy and relaxation.

Here's a nugget of truth to remember: bad tippers are bad lovers (and bad bosses, friends, ...). People who are stingy and selfish in one area of life, like money, are often also stingy in other areas of life--in bed, with their affection, and with their time. The same goes for people who cut in line, cut people off in traffic, and generally seem to have missed the message about the Golden Rule.

I've been running a fair amount, though not back up to my desired 30 miles per week. But I am trimming down, building muscle, and getting faster. Running is my meditation, my church. I listen to Matisyahu, take in nature, feel the connection of my body, mind, and spirit. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by grief and have a panic attack and hyperventilate. But it happens less and less now. So many days I just want to stay in bed, don't want to head out on that run. But I always feel better that I did it, even if it was slower or shorter than my goal. I need to focus on taking better care of myself physically, emotionally, and financially. In a sense, my body is all I have and I have to make taking care of it, making it the best it can be, my priority. 

I started school this past Monday. It seems crazy to be going back to school yet again, but at least this path (massage therapy) feels like it has potential both as something I can do while traveling and that is actually in demand (which is not the case with law). And after many years of lawyering and hating it, it will be nice to do something that reduces the level of stress in the world rather than increases it. Law is just a soul-sucking endeavor and I feel like I need to do something with a far better karmic balance. And it turns out that colleges are full of cute, young guys...so that's not so bad, either. I am juggling only being able to get in 30 hours a week of legal work in DC, so that's a $1,000 a month less income when I need it most. So, I need to make a better push to find something local and lucrative that will accommodate the school schedule for this next year.

But more seriously, I am nervous about whether I will be any good at massage, because if I'm not great at it I won't succeed. But I am also nervous about getting through Anatomy and Physiology, which will be the toughest course in the program and I am taking right now along with Swedish Massage. I've been a professional student, had an amazing memory, was a test-taking machine. That's how I got through law school, an MBA, three bar exams, and into a couple Ph.D programs I abandoned along the way. But since all that I've had two serious concussions. My memory has never been the same. The effects of a traumatic brain injury are so cruel and unpredictable. There are times I look at close friends and for the life of me, I have no idea what their names are. So, more waves. Waves of sadness at the loss of a skill I was very good at, at the loss of memory, at the effects I may never shake, but waves of joy at the potential for a new life, at some new chance to find a purpose, meaning, bliss.

(happy?) holidays

If you don't have a perfect Pottery Barn house and a centerpiece Martha Stewart would be proud of then, well, let's be frank: you're a bad wife, a bad mother, a bad woman, a bad American. Spend, spend, spend! Buy, buy, buy! These are the modern carols of the holidays. Our American (Western?) society is founded upon buying cheap plastic crap from (inhumane, animal-testing, slavers) China and then promptly throwing it in US landfills so we can buy more cheap plastic crap from China. Since this is the only way to fuel our economy now, (because American ingenuity and support of local small businesses is effectively dead), this incessant, addiction-riddled, consumerism has somehow become Patriotic. Yes, it makes me want to vomit.

Society puts ridiculous pressure on us all to buy gifts (I haven't in maybe 5 years) and to put on a perfect holiday. I remember being so poor growing up that we had an enormous box under the tree. Elaborabately decorated. And empty. The note said the box wasn't empty; it was filled with love. Most of the gifts under the tree today aren't filled with love. They are filled with guilt, obligation, and fawning attempts to buy affection.

Despite this rant, I actually love Christmastime. The smell of Douglas Firs, the sparkling lights, decorating the tree, drinking cocoa, hoping for a white Christmas. I still watch classic Rudolph, Grinch, and Charlie Brown Christmas shows if I manage to catch them. But as with most things in life now, I am concerned with the substance, not the appearance. I would rather have fewer friends who are top-notch, focus on quality not quantity in my meals, relationships, and how I spend my time. Things break. Things generate clutter, mentally and physically. Experiences and adventures provide a lifetime of memories. 

On the subject of materialism, but colliding with the soap opera of my life, I headed to the pub for my Thursday night chicken tostados the Thursday before Thanksgiving. I noticed "Dimples" was sitting at the bar and tried to stroll past but he'd spotted me and I got roped into sitting there with him. I don't know what I saw in him other than the dimples but there I was getting lectured for two hours. I'm sure you all know just how much I relish unsolicited advice. (Sigh.) He went on and on about how with all my education I should be on a nice, new 60' sailboat. That I need to go back to a real job and make real money, that even if I only made $150,000 I could at least be paying my bills, my student loans, and get rid of my boat. Although a life in the law is not much of a life worth living in my opinion, I explained it isn't exactly easy to find a legal job these days, and that until you're post-menopausal law firms don't want to hire women because they think you'll immediately go on maternity leave. He looked at me and said I obviously don't have to worry about that anymore. Excuse me? I'm still quite fertile and only a hot 35-year-old who wants a lovechild away from being a mom. 

So, the idiot basically tells me I'm lazy, old, and that my boat is a dilapidated wreck. Not exactly the way to my heart, that's for sure. But gee, Prince Charming said he would help me with "exactly two" things: borrowing his diesel mechanic to look at my starter and getting my boat to a marina for a haul-out. Those two things, he repeated, he would help me with and for those two things I could call him. I was puzzled insofar as I never asked for his help and I'm sure not going to take it from some schmuck making me feel like a charity case. I politely smiled and nodded. He kissed me on the cheek and told me he'd see me later. I walked out the door and deleted every last trace of him from my phone and iPad. I didn't even want to risk sending a drunken text rant or anything. He's a rich guy who only cares about and values shiny new things. Me, my life, my boat, we sparkle from within, but he can't see that. His loss. I texted friends in town to smack me upside the head if I start getting all gooey over Dimples again. I deserve so very much better than the likes of him. Gratefully, one of my best friends in town has been at the pub with me the last few times I saw Dimples there and I simply ignored him and he's ignored me (other than feeling my ass when he walked by on Saturday night, ugh). It sucks to have that awkward feeling at my local watering hole, one that he is new to. But I'll just have to suck it up and not make that mistake again. 

What do I need in a guy? One like this! www.twentyeightfeet.com. (Please watch the beautiful documentary; it's only 8 minutes long and a feast for the eyes and soul.) Floppy hair, check. Jim Morrison curls, check. Young and adventurous. While you're blinded by that chiseled bod, don't forget to notice the great smile. Loves his boat from the bottom of his heart. And has the right ideas about life, money, and what it means to be rich. Yep, my dream guy. Unfortunately for me, that guy has a lovely girlfriend and she's one of those rare white girls who can carry off dreadlocks, so no competing against that. But if he's got a doppelganger, I sure need to meet him and sail off into the sunset. (A big thanks to my friend Chuck who sent me the video; I needed to see that there really are guys like that out there somewhere!)

How did I sell myself so short in life and love? It's hard to explain how demoralizing it is to have literally applied for thousands upon thousands of jobs in the past decade and have had interviews I can count on my fingers and toes. Probably just my fingers. It really tells me I don't have anything to offer that this society wants or values. Admittedly, I don't really like, respect, or value this society. So I guess the feeling is mutual. But I am so underutilized and we all want to feel useful, purposeful. And we all have to eat. I don't need a fancy life. But my pets, who have kept me going through it all, get a fraction of the medical care they should. And their medical care exceeds mine by at least double. I haven't seen a dentist since 2008. It just wears me down sometimes. But I keep on keeping on, because that's what one has to do. If I am anything, it's resilient. But when people ask "How are you?" I want to stop saying "hanging in there," and instead wholeheartedly say "the world is my oyster!"

So, in other news, my engine won't start. I was all ready to head out for a little day cruise, but the starter just buzzes and the engine doesn't even try to cough or strain or anything. My diesel guy came and listened to it and said it's likely the battery is kaput and just not enough juice getting to the starter to even spin it. I protested that my battery monitor says 13.2 volts. He said that is probably only because I'm on the battery charger, hooked to shore power, and if I disconnected the shore power I'd likely see the voltage plummet. Now that I think about it, the voltage has stayed constantly at 13.2 for a while, whereas it used to drain down to 12.4 and then recharge up to 13.4. I still need him to come back and help finish the diagnosis so I can plan accordingly. I have been planning to pull out the two 4Ds (200 pounds each) and replace them with as many (75 pound) golf cart batteries as I can fit, and also replace the starter battery. One problem I won't repeat: prior owners connected the house and start banks, which should be separate. Naturally, I don't have several hundred dollars laying around to buy the new batteries, or the solar panels I wanted to install at the same time so it would all be in sync and happy. OK, I know I just ranted about not wanting things, but I admit batteries are the kind of things I need cluttering up my life. They are things that will help me move forward rather than things that hold me down. There, see how I rationalized that and made it sound very beautiful and philosophical? 

In other boat news, I had a diver out. Sean from Open Water Diving called me back within two hours of my initial call, made it out in less than a week, was very professional, and fairly priced. He also does search and recovery so if you lose a phone overboard in Annapolis, now you know who to call. I will admit that I got his card back when I was working on the fishing charter. He had been cleaning a boat in that marina and was changing out of his wetsuit into street clothes. I walked by and said "whoa, no need to rush putting on that t-shirt." What can I say, we all like youth and beauty. Most guys take their shirt off and you'd beg them to put it back on, so when a guy has a nice physique, it's nice to enjoy the view. I got his card and of course I waited until winter to call him, so alas, no show for me. But trust me, he's more than a pretty face. Very professional and did a great job. In the cold and rain he came out the day before Thanksgiving and cleaned the hull and installed a new zinc. The hull was very dirty, but he said the bottom paint is in good shape and I should be good until July for another cleaning. Bad news was the old zinc was totally gone. But a new one is there now so I'll sleep a little easier. 

Someone on one of the boating forums has a signature line that says "rust never sleeps" and it sure is true. The corrosion is a battle I feel I just can't get ahead of. It just gets overwhelming. All the projects. Not having the money to repair things I know need attention. I love my boat so much and I frequently tell her I'm sorry I haven't done more, done better. She saved my life and I have to return the favor.

where there's smoke...

No time is a good one to be standing in a bathrobe holding a fire extinguisher. But aboard a fiberglass boat when it's 25 degrees out is especially not a good one.

Two weeks ago two liveaboard boats here in Eastport burned to the waterline. It simply gives one pause. And there's this sick irony to boat fires because a boat is surrounded by water. I don't know what exactly caused that fire, but electricity arcing at shore power connections seems to be a frequent cause of boat fires, so I wanted to do some preventive care aboard to ward off that problem. On Saturday I had planned to unplug the shore power cables, wipe down the blades, and then coat them with dielectric silicone compound. Various folks had recommended putting it on the connections to prevent corrosion and arcing that can lead to electrical fires. The package said to avoid skin contact. I wasn't sure how much I'm supposed to put on. I pulled out my copy of Nigel Calder's Mechanical and Electrical Manual to see if it mentioned applying the compound to the shore power connections. I couldn't find anything. I decided to wait until I had a little more information.

While contemplating the dangers of fire aboard, I noticed that the many fire extinguishers aboard are mounted and held in with straps. I pondered just how those straps fasten. I'd never actually removed any of the extinguishers, but if there were either a fire or an intruder (an ABC extinguisher is a handy defensive weapon) I was concerned about how difficult it would be to remove the canister from the strap when time was of the essence. 

Sunday morning I was supposed to go ice skating with friends. I do love to skate and was looking forward to it, but was not really feeling up to being surrounded by kids. I went back and forth about it but just had this feeling I needed to beg off and stick around the boat. As I was messaging back and forth with friends, I heard a strange sound, sort of a slow, deep "whomp." It seemed to come from the starboard aft-most corner of the nav desk and breaker panel. But I didn't hear anything else and started to go back to the message I was writing. Then I noticed the music was off. Hmm. Maybe I had turned it off for some reason. I turned it back on and sat down. The music started coming and going. The iPod dock runs on 110V, i.e., shore power, but also has a 10-hour battery back-up, so if the A/C power is off, it just switches over. I looked at the panel and it showed 120 volts, but the power strip light was flashing on and off. Ah, maybe something on the shelf is hitting the power strip button. Nope. Then I saw the adjacent outlet was dead. No breakers on the panel were tripped. Strange.

Nothing looked amiss. But this faint smell of sulfur, like when you just light a match, caught my nose. Something just didn't feel right. I turned off the main A/C breakers on the boat. And in that moment, I somehow instinctively popped that strap on the fire extinguisher and headed topsides. I opened the lazarette that contains the back of the electrical panel and smoke came billowing out. I didn't see flames but the smoke kept coming and the smell...like burning matches and plastic and something else I just can't describe...it was awful and I knew something was very wrong. I flipped the breakers off at the shore power pedestal and went back to the cockpit, standing over the open lazarette. I didn't want to just randomly spray the fire extinguisher in there. The smoke seemed to be dissipating, but with all the PFDs and sails in the lazarette, what if something was smoldering out of sight? 

I wasn't quite sure who to call. Someone like TowBoatUS will claim a percentage of the boat's value for salvage if you're sinking or on fire. The fire department would likely fill the boat with foam that would destroy wiring and systems. But something was seriously wrong. I called a friend who's a very experienced boater. He answered very conversationally, "Hey, how are you?" I quickly and bluntly said "I'm kind of freaking out right now. I'm standing here in a bathrobe with a fire extinguisher and there's smoke coming out of the lazarette near the electrical panel. I'm not sure who to call." He reminded me he's in Delaware. "Yes, yes, I know you can't come help me, but I figured you would know who I should call." He suggested I go disconnect the shore power cables from the boat and pedestal as well and turn off the batteries. 

Both shore power cables show damage from arcing

When I unplugged the cables from the shore power inlets on the boat one inlet had a blade that was black and scorched. The cables were clearly damaged from arcing. The smoke seemed to have stopped. I didn't see any obvious damage on the electrical panel, which has a clear Plexiglass cover. But all that smoke came from somewhere. Now all power on the boat was off, no A/C from shore power and no D/C from the batteries. So, no heat, no lights, no propane stove because it requires an electric solenoid for safety. The water around the boat is iced over. We were at least going to need a way to heat the boat.

My friend suggested I call a marine mechanic he knows to see if he could come take a look, but he wasn't in town. That guy gave me the name of another mutual friend of theirs, Rob Simkin. I explained to Rob that while whatever had burned appeared under control, I couldn't wait to address the issue because I live on the boat with pets and we need to get the boat safely heated. Rob really came through; here I was a perfect stranger, kind of freaking out, but he gave up his Sunday afternoon and was at my boat in less than 90 minutes.

The shore power inlet that was on fire

Rob removed the shore power inlet that looked damaged. The guts were scorched and melted. I complained about how awful that burning smell is and he explained that there is a lot of smoke under the coaming, so the smell probably won't go away soon. The other inlet looked OK, but since it was older and rather than take any chances, I agreed we should replace them both. While I went to West Marine (twice) and Fawcett's to find the parts, Rob went over the electrical panel to check for damage, tightened up loose wires, and replaced some old connectors. He also began tracing the wires for the battery charger since I have long wanted to move it over to the "main" shore power line in case I am in a marina with only single 30 amp service; then I can forgo the water heater and HVAC that run on the secondary line and have all my "core" house systems on the main line.

The plan at West Marine was to pick up two new inlet assemblies and one or two new shore power cables. Each of those is about a hundred bucks; yep, ouch. I found that instead of having to buy the entire assembly, including the metal casing and closure, I could buy just the "guts" of the inlet. The price difference is substantial: $90 versus $30. The problem was that the guts-only package didn't include the white end cap. I got them anyway, and then headed to Fawcett's to see if they had the end caps. They didn't, but they had sets of the guts with a cap included. I bought two of those, and returned the others at West Marine. I also picked up a new "Eel" shore power cable at West Marine. For the second cable I'm using a short cable I already had, but I will replace it shortly with a longer one because if the tide falls too much and it "tugs" at the connections I may be back to standing there with a fire extinguisher.

Note half the guts are just gone or melted

As it turned out, the inlets I had bought at West Marine were Marinco and the ones from Fawcett's were Hubbell. It'd be way too easy if these fittings were standardized... so of course the Hubbell ones and the Marinco ones do not have their screw holes in quite the same spots. They're off just a smidge enough that they can't play nice together. And it turns out that one of my inlets was Hubbel and one was Marinco. Sigh. And so, I headed back to West Marine (trip three). I tried fitting the white backing cap from the old assembly onto the new inlet guts, but the cap was too melted on one side, so I sucked it up and bought the $90 complete inlet assembly for the Marinco inlet.

Naturally, for one of the inlets the wire was a few inches short after cutting off old connections. So, Rob headed to West Marine for that trip since he knew exactly what wire was needed. The entire process (replacing the inlets and moving the battery charger over to the main line) took a little over four hours. The last hour we were there in the cockpit as sleet/hail then turned to fluffy snow. Rob patiently explained to me what he was doing and why, pointed out key aspects of the electrical panel for me, and explained certain things prior owners had done that I'll likely want to change as I upgrade the system. I probably need to make a sketch and then jot notes about what everything is.

By the time everything was put back together and I could turn on systems, and heat, again, it had fallen to 40 degrees inside the boat. The pets were about ready to mutiny. I gave them all kibble, and having only had a string cheese and a yogurt all day myself, I headed down to the pub. My dieting/running has been going very well. I'm down a reasonable and safe seven pounds in six weeks, and down 2-3 inches everywhere that matters. But I decided that on days that you have a boat fire you get to eat and drink whatever you want without guilt. The burger and fries were exactly what I needed, but the nachos a couple hours later and copious amounts of beer... yeah, not so much. I took the melted inlet with me in a ziploc bag so I could play show-and-tell with the other liveaboards at the pub. After that near miss, and knowing I dodged a scary bullet, it was good to be able to decompress and commiserate with liveaboard friends. It's really nice to know that if I'm in a jam I have friends I can call for help.

I definitely feel that something was telling me that the shore power needed attention although there weren't any outward signs that it had a problem. It's eery that I had been concerned with arcing and the fire extinguishers just the day before. It's eery that I had this gut feeling I needed to stick around the boat that morning. If I hadn't, I probably wouldn't have a boat, or two loving cats, or a tail-wagging pup dog right now. When I'm tucking myself in the v-berth for bed, telling the pets goodnight and that I love them, I put my hand against the hull and tell the boat we love her, too. I know it's not good to become too attached to a particular boat and that it's not a child, a lover, or a pet, it's an object. But at the same time, I do love her; she is our home and in many ways my salvation. We rescued her, and she rescued us. So it may sound like so much mystical jibber-jabber, but I think she was telling me something was wrong and it saved her life and ours yesterday.

If you're an Annapolis-area boater and need electrical or yacht management help, check out Simkins Yacht Management. Rob is a USCG licensed captain and an ABYC master technician. Good at what he does and "good people." A big thanks to Rob, to Fred and Steve for recommending him, to fellow liveaboard Jay "Thumper" at West Marine, and to the liveaboard ladies at Fawcett's.

down the lazarette we go

I'm rather independent and like to do things myself. However, we don't just come into the world knowing how to do everything. I didn't happen to grow up learning to fix cars or build things. Thus, I often find myself not knowing how to do some simple repair and maintenance tasks that guys just take for granted. I wonder how they would feel if I talked to them like helpless little girls because they don't know their way around a kitchen. Anyway... for several months I have been begging people to come show me how to water the battery on the boat. At this point the water level was probably so low that permanent damage has been done. But I'm facing the reality that even when I have cash in hand to pay people to help me with my boat, the only person I can rely on to get anything done aboard is me. 

I did some research online, put on my goofy headlamp, and started pulling everything out of the port lazarette. The single biggest problem with the design of my boat is the terrible engine room access. To get to the engine, batteries, and water pump, one has to climb down one of the cockpit storage lockers, which means removing everything stored in them first. It's very difficult to reach things toward the bottom of the locker but there were various items I didn't want to step on. I was laying in the cockpit hanging myself down as far as possible without crashing in, and pulled as much out as possible. I tucked a screwdriver and wrench in my pocket just in case and set distilled water and a small measuring cup above the lazarette. 

Climbing in and out of the lockers is very difficult. The opening is long but narrow, so my hips won't fit going the direction I want. The locker is very deep, so my feet won't reach the bottom if I'm sitting on the edge of the opening trying to hop down. The sides of the locker are very slippery with condensation. Once I was in and organizing, I knew it would be much easier to have another set of hands to hand me things so I wouldn't have to keep trying to climb in and out. I texted three different guys asking for some quick help, but it was a newly-liveaboard gal on the other side of Eastport who came through. Everything about sailboats is new to her, but I assured her I just needed someone to be able to hand me things and rescue me if I got stuck in the lazarette. As I was pulling stuff out of the lockers and trying to reorganize and store items I found my sea anchor. I don't plan on seeking out the weather that would require them, but I am glad a prior owner invested in a storm sail and sea anchor.

the sea anchor

I got things cleared out and started taking a look at the battery. For some reason the water pump is on top of the batteries. That doesn't seem like a good place for it, but there was very little slack in the hoses to move it around. As I tried to prop it up more against the wall, all of a sudden the pump started running. I must have jiggled a hose clamp loose. I started yelling at my friend to run down to the breaker panel and switch the pump off. I was worried the hose would come loose and water would be spraying everywhere as I sat there next to the batteries and battery charger. Of course there are probably 40 or more switches on the panel so I'm yelling to her that it's the far right row, third from the bottom. Once it was off, I tightened up the clamps on each hose. I still need to investigate the leak between the pump and the water heater, but getting to that spot in the engine room will be a major contortionist act for another day. Since the water in the line to the pump has frozen a few times this winter--not good, I know--I relocated one of the 60 watt work lights from the engine block over to the pump, where it was last winter. That should make a big difference when the next cold snap hits, probably next week.

On to the battery. I suspected that the little black and white knobs (shown in the photo at top) were where I needed to pour the water, but I wasn't certain. I also noticed writing on them. "Keep" and then something I couldn't read. I was worried it would say "closed" or "shut." I took a close-up photo since there was no way to get my head in close enough and saw it said "keep tight." I messaged a photo of the knobs to a friend asking if these were what I needed to remove and how much water to add. Although he's sailed off to South Florida, I was lucky he was online to help me troubleshoot; thanks, Phil! I slowly poured distilled water into four of the six little ports; two were just too far for me to reach without better lighting and a turkey baster. Even using a mirror it was too difficult to see the water level, but I wanted to be careful not to overfill the cells and have electrolyte leak out. Even if they needed a little more water, they are certainly better off than they were and I'll just have to make it a quarterly chore to climb down and water the battery.

stuck in the lazarette under a heavy, moldy sailbag; yuck

Once the battery task was done, it was on to the starboard locker. It was full of loose PFDs, random stuff, and two big, heavy sail bags. Both sails are just old mainsails. I'm probably due for some new sails, but since that's likely going to run about $5,000 I don't see it happening any time soon. The old back-ups, however, will likely be turned into harbor shades or other sewing projects. But now for, I needed to get them out of the way of the engine room access. There's no getting around filling these lockers to the brim; I absolutely need the storage space. I sure wish the design had made them internal quarter berths, but I've got to work with what I've got. Therefore, I'm trying to at least consolidate loose items into bags and bins so that I only have to pull 5 big things out of the locker, instead of 20 little things, every time I need to get to the engine room. It sucks having to store sails in these lockers, where they are exposed to condensation and may get moldy, but there simply isn't any space inside to store them... I've still got a car full of stuff and a few items in storage that have to find a place aboard... it's a process, not an easy one, but worth it in the end. Despite all the challenges, I really couldn't imagine not living aboard.

cat and mouse

Under the gun to pay bills, it was just my luck to have two shifts cancelled so far this week. I tried to make the best of the unexpected time off and schlepped an enormous bag with three loads of laundry to the little laundromat downtown. No one ever seems to hang out in the laundromat waiting and it seems like a nice enough spot that no one will steal my panties, so I went across the street for a couple pints. I brought along homework. (See photo.)

I was studying up on battery systems aboard because I was meeting later that day with a friend to discuss my power needs so I could plan out battery bank upgrades and my solar power requirements. I still need to sit down with an Excel spreadsheet and run all the numbers on my load requirements both at a marina (with the luxury of shore power) and on the hook. I'm hoping that a couple of solar panels will suffice to keep my batteries charged if I try living on a mooring ball or so that I can cruise south and spend a few nights on the hook for every one in a marina. No way I could afford a marina every night heading south.

My friend bravely climbed in the lazarette to peek at the current batteries. Looks like I have a small sealed battery for my engine start, and then two large flooded batteries for my house bank. I knew that one of the house batteries is dead, so the plan will be to replace both with a series of golf cart batteries (which I should be able to lift) instead of the huge marine batteries I have now. Looks like I need to add some distilled water to the working battery, so I brought a gallon back to the boat and now have to crawl down and figure out how to fill it. I'm sure it's not that complicated, but since I've never done it before I'm always nervous about screwing something up. Not sure when I'll get around to an upgrade on the battery bank, as it isn't in the budget right now, but I at least want to know what my power needs are and try to get a sufficient solar array in place.

Another liveaboard friend met up with us and we headed to Vin 909 for dinner. It's the top Zagat-rated restaurant in town, doesn't take reservations, and serves up great, affordable food in a mellow atmosphere. I insisted they let me choreograph the meal for us all to share. A friend selected a bottle of merlot for the table. We started with a selection of three cheeses (served with apples, walnuts, crostini, and a tomato jam). Then came a margarita pizza. For thin-crust, this is the best pizza in town, bar none. (At at $9.50, a steal.) We still needed a little something before dessert, so a plate of warm olives and almonds with crostini was the third course. We finished with the not-to-be-missed butterscotch pudding. If you're in Annapolis, drop by Vin in Eastport for some eats.

When we got back to the boat we might have had a couple too many shots of Myers Dark rum. One of the cats went missing and despite looking everywhere in the yard, calling him, and banging the food bowls, he wouldn't come home. The cats have always been inside-only until the past few months. Although they have claws and aren't tiny, they don't know about the dangers of the world...cars, foxes, other cats, bad people. I broke down in tears because I couldn't find him. I left ports open so he could jump in, though it meant the other cat could also get out. When I woke at 7AM I shot of out bed: "Hunter!" I looked everywhere, but he wasn't on the boat. I went topsides and clanged the cat bowls and he came running. A huge sigh of relief. I have no idea if he catted around all night or slept aboard, but thank god he came home safe and sound.

Now I've clearly created monsters; they cry at the door if I lock them in. It's finally cool enough that I can avoid running the air conditioning if I leave the ports open for a breeze, but that means they jump in and out through the broken screens as they please. If something happens to them, I will blame myself forever. I am trying to tell myself that they are happier than they ever have been; chewing grass, lounging in the sun, rolling in dirt, and killing things. If their lives are shortened by going outside I will be crushed. But perhaps their lives will have been fuller, happier, more adventurous. Not unlike my own. I think of the conversation between Dory and Nemo's dad in Finding Nemo; he says he promised Nemo he wouldn't let anything happen to him, but Dory wisely notes that not having anything happen isn't very fun for little Nemo.

Once the cat drama had subsided I headed to Baltimore to see my sister, who was in town on business. We spent the late morning and early afternoon at the National Aquarium. Seeing all the beautiful reef exhibits just fuels my desire to be where the water is clear for snorkeling. I always thought the water in Miami and the Keys was terrible compared to the Bahamas and Barbados, but compared to the two inches of visibility in the Chesapeake, South Florida water is crystal clear. I remember running from downtown Miami over to Key Biscayne and easily seeing the barracuda hanging out in four to six feet of water. The aquarium is huge and as we went through the Amazon exhibits my sister recounted various fish and other wildlife she'd seen as a child living in South America. Of course, I loved seeing the jellyfish exhibit again. They are such interesting and beautiful creatures. And naturally, we had to take pictures standing in the Megalodon jaws.

One of my big stressors right now is trying to sell my furniture and other belongings. I need to get out of the office I rented; my lease is finally up and I've only had one client in the past year so time to let it go. I also need to gather as much cash as I possibly can if I want to cruise away soon rather than being stuck another year. I haven't managed to get any interest from local friends in buying any of my stuff, so I started putting things on craigslist. Unfortunately, far and away most of the responses are scammers. When someone texts me, when I said to call, and then asks for pictures and the asking price, both of which are in the ad, it's pretty obvious they are scammers. And if not, they are clearly too stupid to bother dealing with. Sigh.

Yesterday new neighbors pulled in two slips over. They apparently only work three weeks a year, for the Annapolis boat show. So, for the next few weeks I'll have liveaboard neighbors again. I hear my main halyard slapping against the mast in the wind and hope they don't hate me already! Guess I better go tie it out before they complain. They've been living aboard for 11 years now and the wife said she's too old to live in a house anymore. Yep, we liveaboards are just cut from a different cloth.

I was catching up on reading when Hunter jumped down into the salon. He stood very still and I had a bad feeling. Yep, a big, juicy mouse in this jaws. He gently set it down. Ick! And not quite dead. Double ick! I scrambled off the couch and put on shoes before he could start eviscerating it next to me. He played with it a bit. He kept talking to me: "Meow-row;" "Look mom, I brought this for you;" "Meow-Row;" "Look mom, I am a mighty warrior." I told him he is a good kitty, a mighty hunter, but could he please stop bringing mice and cicadas inside the boat. Please. Then the crunch, crunch, crunch of little bones! I plugged my ears. Luckily, he grabbed it and jumped back topsides. Unfortunately, he ate half of it on the deck and there it sits, covered up by a blood-soaked paper towel. Ick, ick, ick! This is when I really wish I had a guy to come clean up icky dead things for me. This is when it's hard being a single girl on her boat. I almost hoped the dog would finish it off. I'm going to spare you all photos of the remaining ickiness. But if anyone is volunteering to come clean up the crime scene... I'm not too proud to accept a little help. And I pay in rum.

Lately life also feels like a game of cat and mouse. Constantly chasing bills, stalking a series of goals that always seem shifting, elusive, just out of reach. But like Hunter, I am a mighty warrior. I decided a few years ago that no longer would I be the gazelle in this life. I am the lioness and I am going to catch my dreams.

lazing around

The past few days have been cool enough that air conditioning was not a concern and I have been enjoying sleeping with the forward hatch open. I awoke at six this morning with little raindrops coming through the hatch and hitting my face. I hopped up and scrambled around the boat in the twilight to close up open port lights to keep the rain off of books and other stuff and then dropped the forward hatch. The morning has been a rotation of very gentle sprinkles, steady light rain, brief downpours, and dry spells. A friend may have found a used A/C unit to replace my current one, but a rainy day may not be the right time to play around with the largest electrical system on the boat.

I had high hopes for the holiday weekend. I planned to really get the boat cleaned up and company presentable, get the cockpit back to the relaxing environment it was when I first moved aboard. I got off to a good start on Saturday, starting to work my way through the boat with my new mold treatment: a solution of tee tree oil and water. Saturday afternoon I also fiddled around with the VHF radios, (though I never managed to get an automated radio check to work on the inside radio), and hailed the harbormaster's pump out boat. It was my first time using the pump out boat, and I'll enjoy the convenience of that service until it shuts down after boat show. The tank was not yet full after seven weeks.

I was off to a good start, but my Saturday night became more of a party than I had initially planned, and Sunday was spent trying to keep down ginger ale and Gatorade and nibbling Saltines. When I went topsides on Sunday there was wine spilled all over the deck and cockpit. I even found spots of red wine spilled on the dog--what a bad mother I am! (I wasn't actually the one spilling wine everywhere, at least). The kitchen counter was piled with shot glasses. I think a good time was had by all. Well, except my poor tummy, which can no longer handle red wine without a full meal and in small quantities.

Monday I ran out for a meeting midday and then rather than dive into all my projects I lounged on the boat napping and watching almost all of season two of Game of Thrones. Sometimes we all need to just rest and vegetate a bit, I guess this weekend was my turn to laze around.

The big event this weekend at my little marina was the departure of one of my dockmates, the Eleanor Q. Frank and Mary Marie have been preparing their beautiful Gozzard for cruising and have been living aboard her the past few weeks. Memorial Day was the day they finally shoved off and took the dock lines with them. Buttercup will miss Frank throwing a ball for her and following them both around trying to "help" with whatever project they may be working on. They are headed north first and then down to the islands. Check out their blog Voyages of the Eleanor Q. They were great neighbors and will be missed, but hopefully we'll shove off ourselves and run into them in the islands down the line.

I'm frustrated that the remote project I'd been working on since September did not work out. I had been hoping that it would be profitable enough to cover core expenses and allow us to take off and cruise. Unfortunately, it did not turn out to be as profitable as hoped, was plagued with delays and difficulties, and I felt I had to cut my losses rather than continue to bleed time into it. Right now I am not here because I want to be, but because I lack the resources to go. It's not that I dislike it here, but I want my freedom so badly, want to be able to cast off the lines and go wherever, whenever I please. I know, we all want freedom and almost all of us simply have to endure a life without it. But I do not want to surrender so easily, do not want to live each day just to get by.

Another liveaboard friend has started a blog, but not about living aboard. She is undertaking a project in which various of her friends get to write one-month chapters of her life--giving her challenges to test herself, delve into her weaknesses, and embrace personal growth in a very out-of-the-ordinary way. Take a stroll over to living chapters and check it out.

hot, hot, hot

As I write this it is 85 degrees inside the boat. The pets are sprawled on the floor trying to stay cool. I can tell they are displeased with this development. I am soaked through and should probably just put on a swimsuit and take sun on the foredeck.

I'll be heading out to buy some fans, do laundry, and grab some groceries, but would prefer to get some air conditioning up and running before I close up the boat in the heat with pets aboard. The trailer-trash-esque rooftop RV air conditioning unit installed on my aft hatch has been acting "fritzy." It now flips off at the breaker after running for about 30 minutes on the low cool setting. When away from the boat or not desperate for the air conditioning I have been running the fan only setting to at least keep some circulation going. I have now taken the cover off and removed the filters, which were completely filthy. I am hoping that the dirty, clogged filters were the cause of the unit's temper tantrums and that with them clean the unit will be happy and safe to operate again. The filters are currently drying in the sun in the cockpit.

I began looking at portable room air conditioners, but they are mostly priced north of $200 and require venting through a window. Venting through a window means issues with screens and the need to install port visors to keep rain from coming in the open window. I would like port visors anyway, but at $35-50 each (and with six port lights), the price tag is a bit painful at the moment. I would love to get rid of the loud and ugly rooftop unit, but if it can keep chugging along a little longer I would rather invest that money in other boat projects. I am glad I did some advance research about portable air conditioners because the less expensive units I might have been drawn to in a store are all evaporative cooling systems or "swamp coolers" and increase the humidity rather than decreasing it. With the condensation and mold challenges aboard the last thing I want is an increase in humidity!

vessel alert

When I saw the email I felt like I'd been winded and a lump formed in my throat. "Vessel in range" and another email immediately thereafter, "Departure." I had forgotten about the AIS vessel alert I had set up online and was caught off guard.

AIS, or Automatic Identification System, is a nifty tool that allows one to broadcast and receive vessel information. It is a somewhat pricey system found more often on large commercial vessels than pleasure craft, but if one can afford it, a very nice tool that provides vessel data including length, tonnage, last known port, current location, and heading, sometimes even photographs of the ship. MarineTraffic.com or the corresponding mobile app allows one to see nearby vessels, view port traffic, and search for vessels worldwide.

Back when I was very concerned to see that the floppy-haired sailor guy was making his southbound journey safely I had set up a vessel alert so I wouldn't worry unnecessarily that he'd gone down in a storm, particularly as cell phone and internet access would be spotty or nonexistent during parts of his trip and he wouldn't be able to let me know how he was. Although I now realize he never cared for or deserved me, I have been worried the past few weeks that he will return to Annapolis and ruin my local pubs for me. I dread running into him and if I had the financial wherewithal and sailing ability I would leave town as soon as I had an inkling he was returning. Unfortunately, my skills and my pocketbook keep me stranded here for the time being.

The vessel alert was an unsettling reminder of my heartbreak, but at least now I know that he left Charleston on Saturday morning. The likelihood is slim that he would turn south with hurricane season only a month away, so it is reasonable to assume he is headed this way. It took him perhaps three weeks to reach Charleston in the fall. I assume I have two or three weeks before having to avoid him around town. I was starting to think I might come back out of my shell. But when I think about the floppy-haired sailor guy I don't know how I could trust anyone with my heart again.

charging the batteries (redux)

Kept watching the battery monitor hoping to see little green lights illuminating up to 13.8 or 14.4 volts but they just seemed to keep going lower and lower, 12.9, 12.6, 12.3, 12. I was assured the battery charger was still correctly hooked up; I checked and doubled checked the electrical panel to make sure the charger and all breakers were on (shouldn't have questioned myself, I knew I had these right). But did not see happy little indicator lights illuminated on the battery charger. Kept checking, hoping for a nice hum and some lights aglow, to no avail.

OK, deep breath. Even if something is awry, I should be able to charge the batteries by running the engine and I know I have a full tank of diesel. Nervous about starting up the engine when there isn't a traditional brake pedal, I got ahold of a friend and threw a bunch of unbelievably basic questions at him about the shifter and throttle. He patiently explained which control was which, where they should be, not to idle too low or the batteries won't charge. (Thanks, Phil, for walking me through all that, and a shore power cord loan to boot!) I envisioned the boat lurching backward into the dock as soon as I hit the start button. That fear was overblown since the batteries were too drained to even turn the engine over.

Adjusting lines in the dark, in cold rain, with gusts that heeled the boat over too far for comfort: I got that. Can't start the engine or charge the batteries: reduced to tears. I understand and respect Mother Nature. Those threats and challenges I can manage. However, I have no understanding of mechanical things or electricity; it's always the unknown we fear and loathe.

I was encouraged to check whether the other shore power outlet on the boat was the one tied to the charger. I balked because, quite frankly, it would be plainly stupid to wire it that way. I couldn't really imagine that someone would set the system up in such an inconvenient way. Battery charger on one 30 amp line and everything else on the other, so that two 30 amp lines (not available at all marinas or slips) is always necessary when docked. But--as I'm sure you've gathered by now--that is precisely what some prior owner did. I had had to disconnect that second shore power cord a few days ago because the increasingly bouncy weather pulled out the short 10 foot cable from the outlet--a very dangerous situation. (A pricey new 35 or 50 foot cord is now a must on the shopping list.) Borrowed a cord from a friend, and now batteries are charging and other 110 volt creature comforts (i.e., laptop, cell phone, music, and space heater) are operational as well.

Crisis averted. And while I want my creature comforts, they were not the crisis; the crisis was getting more rain in the coming days and lacking power to run the bilge pump. Yes, I also want to keep my beer, soda, and yogurt cold in my 12 volt fridge; but, fundamentally, I want to keep the boat afloat.

I hate that I am not self-sufficient on the boat. I never have an easy time asking for help because I want to be able to do everything myself and, more importantly, don't want to be a burden on anyone. By the time I am asking for help I've been investigating, trying solutions, and then hit a breaking point of frustration. I don't want to be helpless, so I don't want to ask for help. But I can't learn my boat's systems, or how to repair or refurbish her, without help. What I most want is for someone to patiently teach me how to do it myself; show me where necessary, observe and correct where appropriate.  Though I certainly have the ability to be that single girl batting her eyelashes to get things fixed on her boat, I don't want to be that girl, and it runs entirely against my nature. I'm a girly-girl and tend to get what I want, but I am fiercely independent and strive to take care of myself.

the worst has passed

Managed to get a few hours of sleep. Woke about 3:45am, tried to wake up a bit, listened for sounds indicating lines breaking or boat hitting dock or pilings, checked on bilge, interior leaks, and condensation. Crew kept snoozing through it all: winds whipping, boat rocking, gusts that heeled us at a good angle. They seem to have their sea legs.

Ventured above about 5:00am to check lines, pulled in some slack in bow lines to help keep me forward in the slip and off the dock. With high tide due to arrive at 6:00am, the water was just 3 or 4 inches below the dock.

Kept fingers crossed water would stay low enough that I would not have to disconnect shore power. Battery does not seem to be charging; possibly didn't get the charger back online right when installing terminal covers or perhaps I am drawing too much power between space heater, laptop, and stereo for the charger to send charge down to the house battery. (I really don't know enough about marine electrical systems yet, so just a guess.) My house bank was two big 4D batteries, but one is dead; replacing the dead one with a bank of a few smaller ones (that I can lift) is going to be a priority ahead of winter storms.

Grabbed another nap around high tide and headed out about 8:30am to see how the boat and docks looked in daylight. If I leave the boat I'll have a hard time climbing back aboard now that the water is level with the dock. Same for pup dog, so after trying to get her to "go" on the foredeck, I put a piddle pad in the head in case she really can't hold it until the tide subsides. (And I've been told winds will pick up again this afternoon, so she may have a narrow window to get ashore and back today.) Although I haven't left the boat, I did not see any damage to my boat or those around me as I walked my decks. Below are some photos of the water level.

My usual boarding spot, almost under water.

Relieved to see the stern did not hit the dock.

View of marina shore from the bow.

The storm really isn't over here, though the worst has passed. But some good lessons learned. Need to invest in a good set of foul weather gear. Headlamp was priceless for hands-free visibility adjusting lines in the middle of the night. (Thanks to Mike for picking one up at the last minute for me.) Need to have confidence in myself, take my time to get hitches right, let adrenaline kick in when needed. (Thank you Russell for believing I could do this, for sharing so much advice, and for helping me when I melted down.)

Looks like water is receding. I think we've made it through all right. Four weeks aboard; three faithful crew; cried twice; survived one tropical storm. Yeah, I can do this.