forty hours later... going ashore

Forty hours aboard without leaving the boat. Tide back to normal this morning and able to have Buttercup go ashore. She finally broke down yesterday afternoon and piddled on the side deck, but she wouldn't use the piddle pad I put down in the head or just "go" on the foredeck, despite my pleading. She was one happy puppy to have a nice long walk this morning! Training her to go on the deck will be a challenge, but with winter storms (and hopefully someday cruising) in the future, she'll really need to get comfortable with it.

Here's a photo of the crew snuggling yesterday. Clockwise from the top: Buttercup, Hunter, and Maximus. Perhaps they were just oblivious, but I'd like to think they are all very brave. None of them got the least bit upset about the storm

The boat appears to have weathered the storm well. Naturally, there are leaks everywhere from the boat not being maintained in recent years so I will have a lot of work to do to track down the sources of leaks and make repairs.

Walking through Eastport with the dog, we did not see much damage; mostly leaves and tree limbs being set out for pick up. Was relieved to see my car looking OK, no trees having come down on it. Here's a photo of the calm after the storm at a pocket park at the end of Horn Point.

mental health break

Definitely needed to catch up on some Jenna Marbles videos and laugh a little. "Things Boys Don't Understand" hits the nail on the head; love it. Part one and part two. 

We all just want to be understood and appreciated for what we are.

I hear a fender getting smashed against the finger pier. About the last thing I feel like doing is bundling up and going out to adjust lines, but here goes.

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.

riding out the storm

Here she is Monday early afternoon, prepped for the storm. Bimini and dodger off, lines doubled up. I am pretty good at rolling with hurricane prep and stressful situations in general, but a few hours before getting her in this condition on Sunday I reached some tipping point between storm stress, 12 hours of throbbing pain from cracking my elbow into a wall, and pup dog making me nuts. I had my new dock lines, but when asked whether I had put them on I melted down that I don't know how to do the lines right by myself. Was told that of course I know how to do them and to have more confidence in myself. Probably true. But feel much better to have someone experienced do the lines and show me how and why to adjust them. But also glad to have been kicked in the butt a bit to have faith in myself.

Went out a few times to adjust lines (and cover the air conditioner with a tarp, which stopped the raining in the cabin below). Wish I had invested in a good set of foul weather gear. Even a few minutes on deck soaked me through. Hopelessly wet clothes are piled in the sink; things with potential to dry are hung in front of the space heater. Definitely need to have your wits about you heading into those winds on a slippery deck to try to pull lines in. I was desperately trying to get the boat away from the finger pier I use for boarding, but the wind was relentless and I would only get a few seconds when the line would slack and I could try to pull in as much as possible. A cold, wet, painful, frustrating half hour or so on deck trying to get the adjustments made, but I think I managed to do it.

All day I've been receiving messages encouraging (or pleading for) me to ride out the storm ashore. Only the boaters seemed to really understand that is not such a simple option. This is my home. If she sinks, I don't have someplace else to go. She is safest if I am with her to adjust lines as conditions warrant, to keep her off the docks, to keep her away from other boats. And my crew is aboard; they seem pretty confident in their captain, as they've been snoozing through the entire storm.

It's half past midnight Tuesday morning now. The eye passed north of us about eleven, so now we have to weather the back half of the storm. I've been told it might be quiet a bit and to try to nap an hour or two if I can.

splicing eyes in my fancy new docklines (with photos)

With a hurricane bearing down and expecting panic to ensue, I was convinced to purchase a new set of docklines yesterday. Rather than paying extra to have them cut and eyes spliced into them, I got to learn how to do it myself. Having little to no artistic skill, I was worried about getting the braiding right, but with instruction--and a healthy dose of ribbing over my mistakes--from a floppy-haired sailor guy, I learned how to do it and I did at least one by myself. Tomorrow I'll need to get the new lines on and likely use the old ones as a second set for the storm. I also practiced lots of cleat hitches so I won't be so flustered adjusting lines during the storm and also learned how to tie a bowline knot (for those with a technical bent: the bunny goes down the hole, around the tree, and back out the hole). (Thanks for all your help Russell, it's been priceless.)

Now I will try to get a good night's sleep before final preparations and the storm.

ok, it's safe to look now

Sparkly clean and ready for beer! Oh--the fridge I mean...I'm ready for beer but definitely still need a shower.

Cleaning the fridge was hands down the most disgusting thing I've had to do so far--in life, not just the boat--and that includes cleaning up after a puppy with worms. I had used an old knife as a dipstick to determine how deep the water was; measured three inches. Unfortunately, because the water was like black coffee, I didn't realize there was a shelf. Six inches. Three full bucketfuls of liquid mold. And of course I have a Shop Vac "Micro" so if I even turned it on for 10 seconds, the reservoir would start overflowing. So, I put an old t-shirt behind the Shop Vac to catch any overflow spray and every 7 seconds I would stop and dump the reservoir into a bucket. Thank god I had a good, thick mask on (rated for mold) and heavy duty rubber gloves. Once it was vacuumed out, I removed the two wood shelves, hosed them down on the dock, and scrubbed them several times with bleach solution. I will let them dry completely before they go back in. I still had to tackle the filth remaining in the fridge and freezer plate, so I sacrificed a roll of paper towels and a healthy amount of ultra-chemical Scrubbing Bubbles. The freezer plate needed more than that, so once the main ick was off, I scoured it with a paste of Comet and a Brillo pad. I'll let it air dry for a couple hours before I crank it up.

There's still no where to sit inside the boat, and lots of cleaning, organizing, and repairs ahead, but I am relieved not to have this little project hanging over my head anymore.