Outfitting

We have been in the boat yard for two weeks now. Things are moving along at the expected pace (slower than I would hope, but reasonable for this oppressive climate). The boat is covered, and has its first coat of primer. The propeller shaft is off, the old swim ladder (which has been held captive by the Monitor for years now) is being removed and welded over. While we have the hull exposed, we are also adding glass around the keel (about 6mm at the widest point) and removing some blisters. ...

The sky feels too low here. That was my first and most enduring sentiment about Darwin. I also have an overwhelming desire to open my photo editor and drop the exposure, turn up the contrast, add a bit of saturation, and mess with the white balance. What Darwin lacks aesthetically, it more than makes up for in hospitality. On the business side, I have never had more things gifted to me. Including engine parts (small but significant, and delivered to my door), ice cream for the kids, tiny glass bottles with a scroll for messages, and rides. The kids are free on the busses, sailing club, and generally (it seems) anywhere there isn’t a specific kids price. ...

After nearly a year of gathering moss, Convivia and her crew are overcoming inertia and getting ready to cruise again. This week, we took advantage of the public holiday and school break and got Convivia out of the river and onto her anchor. Before we could do that though, there were a number of boat-list items that needed to be knocked off. Dodger repair Our dodger was hit hard during the big hail storm. Several large holes were punched in the old, brittle, windshield panes. We couldn’t go anywhere without fixing them. Unfortunately, this was a much larger task than it seemed at first blush. The old Sunbrela was worn out, and even if we could have salvaged it, the hardware was installed over the plexiglass, and the zippers were shot. The upshot was that the whole frame had to be remade. ...

To say I am annoyed with Hella Turbo Fans is an understatement. These very basic fans cost a mint and aren’t nearly as robust as one would hope. We lost 3 in the first year of cruising. Hella was kind enough to replace them for us, but more continue to fail, and the RMA process was so involved that I’m just not inclined to try it again. That said, they still receive high marks from reviewers, so I have concluded that they are simply the best of a very small and underwhelming pool of contenders. ...

When I was younger (let’s just say I was 10) my uncle would entice me to row him across what seemed like an endless [Muscongous] sound to Loud’s Island, by making up silly stories about a fellow named Barfoolean Farkwar. Barf would do things like set out to sail without a sail. When he realised his blunder, he would split all of his underpants in half, and sew them together to make a stinky sail (Barf wasn’t much for hygiene). ...

Okay, I don’t do a lot of gear reviews because, well, because this is really not that kind of blog. That said, there is one piece of gear that we use every day (except some of the crustier passagemaking days perhaps). When we use it, we hardly notice it’s there. In my opinion, that’s a good way to feel about gear. The GoToob is a silicone soap/shampoo container with a hard plastic top. The 2.5oz ones have a suction cup on them that sticks to many marina bathroom walls (YMMV). They are the perfect size for carry-on, and fit nicely in a slim bathroom bag. When I get in the shower, I pop them on the wall and tap for a perfect dose of Dr. Bonners or shampoo. ...

Note: I wrote this post in September while making passage from Vanuatu to Australia. I was all fired up about it until Vick read it and crinkled her nose (or something like that). I relegated it to the drafts folder and forgot about it until now. Recently a bunch of this year’s puddle jumpers have asked about this topic, and I figured “what the heck” I’ll just post it in case it helps someone. If you aren’t about to go blue water cruising, I suggest you give this one a skip. If you’re leaving tomorrow, and you don’t already have an iPad, likewise, skipperoo. But if you are using an iPad for navigation and haven’t already learned these tricks, I think it would be a really good idea to read this, digest it and then ask me to fill in detail for anything that wasn’t clear. Please do leave a comment so everyone can benefit from the process. ...

Cue creepy music. We anchored in the north east conner of Opunohu Bay along with almost every other boat that crossed the Pacific from the Americas. (big exaggeration but it paints the right picture.) It was a tiny anchorage with reefs all around and a very squirrely wind, a perfect recipe for doom (dun dun duuuuun). As it turned out we had two lovely days there with no incident. On Sunday night somewhere around 11 the wind started to build and the rain started driving sideways from the east. I went into the cockpit to make sure everything was lashed down and stowed and stayed a little longer to watch the wind instrument. 30, 32, 35 knots; it was creeping higher. Then I looked up in time to see a massive blue hull grinding down our port side. “Holy Shit!” I yelled “we have been hit, Vick get up here.” I watched in startled terror for a moment as our outer lower shroud was plucked like a guitar string, twaaaaang then saw the dinghy (which had just been smooshed between the two boats) recoiling. A moment later the dinghy’s bow was 10’ up in the air. I rushed to the shroud to fend but the blue boat was already receding, “crap, it’s going to hit the panel” but Vick was already there, lifting the precious solar panel out of harms way. As the blue boat departed the wind caught its bow and sent the stern on one last mission of destruction. It missed our self steering vane by inches and was gone. ...

We have been living on dirt for a week now and it’s not as totally weird as I thought it would be. Of course, I have been working on the boat every day, so it’s not like Convivia and I are estranged, but it is strange to watch the kids spread out all over this little house like gas (filling all available space). The boat was supposed to splash on Friday, but they found hundreds of blisters and they had to be dealt with. The yard has been great. Their staff have helped me through countless hardships and even lent me tools (an unheard of generosity in the realm of boatyards). ...

We are about a month away from setting out across the largest ocean on the planet. The list of things to do; for the boat; for the kids; for us; just gets longer but we are confident that we will be able to make the trip safely and comfortably. This week we are working on the haul-out. We got an insanely high quote last week, and then subsequent tips from fellow cruisers gave us renewed hope that we might not have to spend a fortune for a few coats of paint and some holes in the hull. Once we figure out where and when to haul, we have to decide what we are going to do with the family. Depending on where we haul out we may be able to live on Convivia, but do we want to? Living on a boat “on the hard” means no grey water, no potty, and a 15’ drop if anything or anyone falls off the deck. It most likely means a lot of eating out. Right now I am leaning towards a cheap apartment or hotel for the week that Convivia is out of the water. ...

We just sailed through our one hundred and first day. In this time we have begun to set the routines, behaviors, and mentalities that will be the foundations of our cruising lifestyle. After 101 days I can say with confidence that, while I haven’t experienced everything (who has) I am most definitely a cruiser, and I know that this life choice was the right one. As with any milestone (and this one is arguably more arbitrary than most), I thought I would take a moment to publicly reflect on what life looks like at 101. So here, in no particular order, are some thoughts: ...

Q: Name something you packed and so far you find you really just don’t need. A: Thankfully, we really don’t have much of this category. We have gone through some clothes, worn through some shoes, and jettisoned a down comforter, but there was a time when they were needed on this trip. There are several things that I don’t need yet (spares galore, Christmas cookie cutters, secret chocolate stash) but their time will come. Then there are things that I hope to never need, 153% genoa, the life raft, and EPIRB. And then there’s that blow up shark Olive won for being the youngest kid on the HaHa. Technically we didn’t bring that, but we didn’t ditch it either. Vive El Tiburon! ...

They say no man is an island and as we embark on this adventure—replete with our water maker, mini solar farm, new high tech rigging, etc—I feel it is appropriate to acknowledge and give thanks to all the people who helped us get here. As a knowledge worker, my ability to fund this trip came from an excellent education. The formal education I received was one of the best in the world, but my parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents all contributed to developing my intense curiosity, troubleshooting skills, and general competencies. Without these skills, and the reassurance that I could do anything that I set my mind to, I would never have been able to contemplate such an outrageous undertaking. ...

Vick and the kids are heading to New England this weekend to start saying goodbye to all of our East Coast friends and family. I’ll follow a week later and spend a week and a half there before we all return to Convivia to start the 3 week countdown to casting off. At this point I’m suspended in this twilight zone between the elation that this new life brings, and the stress of leaving behind so much that we’ve built (in our communities, in our relationships, and at work) and the stress of what we still must do to get off the dock. ...

Self sufficiency is one of the most glamorous (to us) features of boat life. We look forward to the day that we can travel the world under wind power, take our food and water from the abundance of the ocean (well the water anyway, the fish will be a bonus) and draw our electrical power from the sun. As we prepare for our trip each thing that we have purchased and installed that helps the boat to sail better and safer has received a little emotional boost from the incidental fulfillment of the self-sufficiency goal. ...