Boat

The tradition of [European] sailors tattooing each other dates back to the 1700s when Captain Cook’s crew picked up the practice from the Polynesians. Since then, countless sailors have followed in their intrepid wake. I have chronicled some of my own experiences here, and here, but haven’t spoken much about how we adopted this tradition or how it has evolved in our cruising community. It started simply enough, with a proper anchor tattoo (Rocna), exchanged with a good friend on a buddy boat. In Johor Bahru, another sailor opted in, and since then, many more of our sailing buddies have asked (in spite of my strong disclaimer that I am not a professional) to exchange or receive tattoos. It’s become a bit of a thing. ...

A four year old friend of ours wants to know why we live on a boat. Her mom said it was so we could travel around the world. “Planes are faster. In case you maybe didn’t know that,” she replied. “Is it so nice as all that?” asked the mole, shyly… “Nice? It’s the only thing,” said the Water Rat Solemnly, as he leaned forward for his stroke. “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” ...

They say that “Perfection is the Enemy of Done.” I guess I am my own worst enemy. When it comes to espresso, margaritas, and love I will not accept failure, half measure or even a half stop below perfection. I have spent years on my espresso; working and saving to buy better equipment; laboring over each shot; reading and learning wherever I could. Likewise I have spent my whole life in pursuit of love, and then in its betterment and refinement. I can be nigh obsessive about some topics. ...

There are dozens of reasons to love living on a boat. Some adore the gentle rocking as they fall to sleep; some like the gorgeous view from their cockpit and decks; some the ability to take their home on vacation with them; and others cherish the simplicity of living small. I’m sure the list goes on. For me though the thing I love most is the dockside social scene. At first I thought I had just lucked into the world’s best marina but now that we have spent a week in Santa Cruz harbor, I’m starting to believe that there is a universal chattiness amongst sailors. ...

I noticed on facebook today that many of my friend’s kids were dressed in fresh new clothes with hair and teeth brushed. Ruby and Olive weren’t actually all that bad considering they had a shower just yesterday (showering when you don’t have one of your own can be a little more of an adventure). When we went out for the morning I decided to drag along Tucker’s good camera to snap a few shots of our first day, and what a beautiful day it was. We had sun and warmth starting in the morning and lasting until evening. Ruby came home from swimming lessons after 6 without wearing her winter hat. Remarkable! Here’s why I’m glad I didn’t send my daughter to school again today. ...

Last week I wrote a post on forgeover about the first chapter in my water heater replacement. To summarize, it didn’t go so well. I felt defeated before I even began, and things only went downhill from there. Today was a completely different story. I woke up with the knowledge that I had to install this beast today, and that I was going to have to squeeze the chore in between long anticipated visits with my sister, brother in law, and nephew. Vick got me started on the right foot: “You’re going to do it, it’s going to be easy, and you’re going to feel GREAT when its done.” That was exactly the pep talk I needed and it probably made the difference between 90% success and utter failure. ...

There has been a rash of theft in our marina lately. It started with a bunch of fishing gear getting stolen off of some power boats, but this Saturday I found my bike had been stolen. This kind of thing can really make you question the quality of the average person… until you come back from your errands to find an annoymous gift in your cockpit. We think one of our friends down the dock left the toy castle for the kids. They had a ball playing with it but agreed that it wouldn’t fit in our boat. The next morning Ruby and Olive raced down the dock to return it and were perfectly delighted to put it back aboard Gemini. ...

Today sucked royally. I started the day saddled with the dread of a project (replacing the hot water heater) that I just knew was going to go badly. This project was going to go badly because: I couldn’t get to all of the fittings to measure what size they were and therefore didn’t know for sure what to buy to replace them. The old water heater may have or may not have fit out through the available hole… Oh no. It didn’t. The beginning of the project involved cutting the safety net (all of the hoses, strapping, and electrical) thereby completely committing me to raving success or miserable failure. The space that I had to work in was miserably small, virtually guarantying several minor concussions, gashes, and bruises (check, check, and check) The very best that I had hoped for was to get enough done that I could safely turn on the pressure water in the evening (cold only) to do the dishes from the margaritas. So after a grumpy breakfast, and a grumpy trip to the chandlery and the hardware store, I grumpily made by way back down the dock with not quite enough parts to complete the project, and a pretty bad attitude. I was short tempered all morning, and when I finally remeasured the new hot water heater and found that it was something like 10" too tall for the space it was going into, I was pretty certain that I was going to go stratospheric. When I then remeasured the old heater and found that there was no possible way to get it out without removing the countertop, I thought I would cry. ...

Most landlubbers take for granted that making a bed consists of removing linens from the closet (or what-have-you) and spreading them over a rectangular surface. For the salty amongst us, the chore begins the same way but quickly devolves to wrestling rectangular bedding around the odd and unaccommodating shapes that berths tend to come in. In our case the traditional vee-berth came with the added challenge of the affectionately named Chastity Cable. Because of this lovely piece of below decks rigging, we don’t have a need for the little wedge shaped piece the many vee-berths have and we require either two completely independent sets of sheets and covers, or some clever way to work around the obstacle with one. ...

This is it. As of Monday we are officially live-aboards. To me that means that, starting on Monday, I will come home to the boat, sleep on the boat and wake up on the boat every day for the foreseeable future. This is deeply comforting to me. To Vick it means a week (only a week) of final push to sell everything that we own that doesn’t fit this new life, or doesn’t fit in the boat/manvan/storage unit. Monday is not deeply comforting to Vick. ...

This is the first chance I’ve had to sit down at my computer in six days. When in the last 15 years have I been able to say that? This vacation was certainly unique. Since it was a last minute (we decided at lunch two days before departing) decision, the expectations were low. Regardless, none of us were prepared for the highs and lows of this last week. On the high side: ...