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.

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.

don't tell me that i won't

For all the naysayers out there. This is currently my personal anthem.

There's just going to come a day that I throw off the lines and go. It won't be the first time I've just headed out, not knowing where I'm going, how I'll get there, or what will be, and it won't be the last. And I am just fine with that. I'm not living my life for anyone else anymore or ever again. I won't be enslaved to my insurmountable student debt or society's expectations. Life is just too short to be spent as a meaningless cog in the wheel, working too hard to buy things we don't need. I find it deeply sad that our economy revolves around convincing people to buy cheap plastic shit from China, filling landfills with it, and then working to the bone to buy more of it.

It isn't always pretty. It doesn't always work the first time. Things don't go as planned. That's life. But I can and will go south with this boat. We will survive, possibly even thrive. Will we have financial success? No, it's a given that is a thing of the past. But I don't care about those measures of success any more. My boat, my pack, and I, we are going to cruise away, make our own way, create our own adventures, and leave the naysayers in our wake.

Heard a little rumor that would make winter aboard far less stressful: the Harbormaster may run the pump out boat on Saturdays through the winter. I jumped for joy and begged the pump out guy to please tell the Harbormaster how important this would be for the many folks who live aboard here in Annapolis even through the winter. So, fingers crossed. I still need to get around to writing a formal letter in support of such a service.

Started to try applying some organization to the boat, though once again my efforts have been derailed due to other pressing time commitments. But I did give the bilge a once-over and vacuumed out all the spider webs, though I still need to get in there with a shop vac to remove the lowest level of water that the bilge pump doesn't reach.

Then I tried to start tackling what seem like bottomless piles of clothes and shoes. But I managed to rationalize my main hanging locker a bit and that will make further progress on that front simpler. Many of the things I need to hang, like dresses, are too long for the hanging locker anyway. I decided to move them to the back of the stateroom door, where they fit perfectly, and convert some of the hanging locker into shelves with a few stacked milk crates. I tucked cat carriers in the space behind the crates. I can't afford to let any space aboard go unused. A hanging shoe organizer fit nicely but was two cubbies too long, so I cut them off. I will probably turn the one salvaged one into a little bag for tools or something.

Last Thursday I had an offer from a very experienced boater friend to come practice docking. We previously had an in-depth theoretical discussion of my docking situation, but now he could come help in person. Although I had a zillion chores for the day, I didn't think twice about putting them aside to seize the opportunity for serious docking lessons. The first stage of the lessons was practicing stopping the boat and practicing approaching mooring balls in reverse. It definitely takes a lot more time for the boat to respond in reverse than in forward, but eventually she does. We also learned that the dog thinks mooring balls need to be fetched. I'm going to blame some of my sloppier approaches in part on trying to keep the dog from jumping overboard as I tried to steer to or between mooring balls. We made five separate approaches to dock in my slip. Two of the five were very good, went just as I envisioned, backing right between the pilings as I wanted. My friend asked me to admit that my last one was "perfect," but I feel like there isn't really any perfect docking situation. But I should accept the compliment and feel a little more confident that I am getting better at handling her in close quarters. Though three of the passes I elected to just head back out and try again, in every case with some maneuvering I could have put her in the slip, and we never hit anything, so all in all, it was a very successful 2.5 hour docking lesson. Thanks, Chris; I truly appreciate all the patience and guidance!

One of my favorite running routes.

Friday I managed to get my buns in gear and run 14 miles. I'm behind on marathon and ultra training, but not too late to get there. I just need to be better about getting in all my "short" runs during the week. They are easy to put off but they are the backbone of training and getting one's legs strong, so I need to get in a good routine to stick with them. It's just a challenge as my schedule is a juggle, but the running is my "me" time so I can eat food I enjoy, get slim and sexy, and generally keep the stress from running me down. The 14-miler wasn't beautiful, though the weather and scenery were, but I knocked it out, took a nice steam afterwards, and wasn't sore the next day. (This week's long run: 16 miles.)

Saturday morning I jammed some Slightly Stoopid and danced around the boat as I baked brownies. Two dozen each Butterscotch Brownies and Cocoa Brownies. The oven is small, so I can only bake one pan-full at a time. I moved the rack up in the oven so the flame wouldn't be so strong on the bottom of the pan, flipped the pan halfway through so the side getting the heat from the flame wouldn't overcook, and timed them very carefully. Definitely the best batches aboard so far and generally very good batches overall. Half of the brownies went in a care package and half are aboard. I need to start giving them away lest I eat them and undermine my hard work running!

I started gifting cookies and cake to local bands and bartenders a couple of summers ago as preventive medicine for my chronic habit of collecting broken, defective, wayward, or hapless guys and trying to nurture and fix them. By giving away my yummy baked goods I could satisfy that drive to nurture, and have a better chance at avoiding taking in the Charlie Brown Christmas Tree of men, the sad-puppy-at-the-pound guy. I admit I have a hopeless weakness for floppy hair; blame it on my first love and my first lover. Being aboard and having less ability to churn out baked goods en masse, I got out of the habit of nurturing through baking and started relapsing into collecting the broken or wayward boys. I really have to get my act together and stop selling myself short. I deserve nothing less than a guy who is going to make damn sure he rocks my world. And I really should hold out not just for that, but for something real and meaningful. Eventually, I'll find a kindred spirit to cruise away with this mermaid. Until then, I'm busy having my own adventures and charting my own course.

Thirty-plus hours of intensive sailing lessons on a 26-footer is not the same as handling my 37-footer. So although I have learned a lot and feel far more comfortable sailing, my boat remains a challenge. Saturday afternoon was supposed to be a nice day sail with friends. Come Saturday morning, however, no one could make it. It was my first chance to sail my boat myself, my first chance since my basic keelboat course, and possibly my last Saturday off work for the foreseeable future. When no one could or would come out, I was crushed. I let myself be pretty upset and disappointed for a bit and then set about salvaging the day with errands and boat chores. Then at the last minute I heard from friends wanting to go out for a sail.

We got a much later start than planned due to schedules and a couple hours of struggling with the jib furler and then just the usual details of taking the boat out, e.g., unplugging from shore power, removing the dog ramp that is tied to the boat and the dock, dropping the dodger so I can see, and removing loose items from the decks. We motored out of Back Creek, having to dodge several sailboats anchored pretty much smack in the middle of the creek where all the boat traffic is trying to transit. I headed out a ways to find a place where the marine traffic was lighter so we could hoist the sails without having to worry so much about avoiding collisions.

After a slow start we managed to get moving, and eventually got up to 5.6 knots under sail. The boat clearly likes sailing a beam reach. However, we had wanted to sail upwind to the south and drop the hook. But try as we might we never could get her close hauled. I suspect a good portion of the problem is that the jib wouldn't trim in beyond a beam reach. The very aft blocks we used for the jib simply wouldn't allow the trim we needed. I had wondered why there were some blocks shackled at the bow to some anchor rode. I also never understood how the cars on the traveler attached to the toe rail could be for sheets since the opening on the cars faces athwartships rather than fore and aft, so they wouldn't be any good at "guiding" the sheet the way some guides along the side deck keep the furling line in order. After Saturday was done and gone I had an "A-ha!" moment in the middle of the night. Those blocks almost certainly need to be shackled to the cars. Then I can adjust the cars on the traveler as needed to help me get the best angle on the jib for the conditions. I'll have to verify that that is the case, but I mostly trust my instinct on that one.

Although we mostly just headed back and forth across the bay on a beam reach, it was a lovely sail. Pup dog had to be restrained repeatedly because she has such a strong instinct to fetch that she wanted to jump in and fetch every crab pot buoy she saw. When sunset was nearing we readied to head back in. We got up some speed so we could tack and head back. Try as we might we could not get tacked across the wind. I'd get us up to 5 knots, the wheel would be hard over, and the boat would just stall out head to wind.

No worries, this is what engines are for. I would've liked to sail her closer to the channel before powering up, but we did want to get in before dark. We dropped the sails and I hit the "start" button. Nothing. No vroom-vroom, no straining or coughing. Just nothing. I ran up and down the companionway checking the battery monitor and my electrical panel and trying the start button again. How the starter had just given up the ghost I didn't know. Well, no worries, this is what unlimited on-water towing from TowBoatUS is for. I was definitely disappointed to have my very first time sailing her myself end with being towed in. The sense of defeat. The public humiliation. I might have fussed and trouble-shot a little longer if I were alone, but I didn't want my crew to be worried, so I decided it was time to "get my money's worth" for that tow policy and call it in.

I called another liveaboard friend and let him know my cell phone battery was getting low and if the tow couldn't put us in the slip, we might need a dinghy hop. He graciously offered to monitor VHF channel 16 in case we needed to hail him for help. Night came on quickly and despite the stressful and unplanned circumstances, I tried to enjoy this night sail as best I could. We rehoisted the main to try to get ourselves to shallower water where we might anchor while waiting for the tow, or at least get out of the main shipping channel. But the boat pretty much sailed us and we ended up under the Bay Bridge. At just that time the tow boat was hailing us on the radio. I told him we were under the bridge and heading north. He asked if we were under sail or drifting. I paused a second and then shouted, "Both!" There was radio silence for a minute while he clearly had a good belly laugh at this wayward drifting sailor. But we managed to get north and thread a narrow path between the shipping channel and the shallow areas where we could run aground. The tow boat caught up with us, reassured us, and we were quickly heading home. The most harrowing part of the trip for me was when as we were under tow and moving pretty quickly Hunter came out the companionway and almost jumped overboard. Poor seasick kitty still has not adjusted to sailing and wouldn't take his Dramamine. Had he jumped, it'd have been virtually impossible to find a grey cat in the black night water or to stop quickly enough and turn about while under tow. Lesson learned that the hatch needs to remain closed when the boat is under way.

About halfway home I happened to look down at the pedestal and the gear shifter caught my eye. It was one of those time-standing-still moments when all the snippets of a story flash by in sequence and... "a-ha!" I chuckled to myself then turned to each side and smiled at my crew. "Don't kill me," I said, "but the gear is in forward... and the engine will only start in neutral." We all paused for a second and then laughed hysterically. We decided it'd be best to just let the tow boat get us to the slip and then check my theory after we were docked. We got tucked into the slip and the tow guy gave me some paperwork and very sweetly, very concerned, said he hoped the engine was going to be OK. Once he had left, the engine started right up without a hitch. Well, I'll NEVER again forget to check that she's in neutral when I'm starting her, will I?

A huge shout out and thank you to my hardworking and patient crew, Lane and Eli. It wasn't a perfect cruise, but it was an unforgettable one.

So my first time sailing Ambrosia was also my first night sail and my first tow. C'est la vie. No one was hurt, we never hit anything, and it was all an opportunity to practice and learn. It isn't always pretty. It doesn't always go as planned. But don't tell me that I won't.