Weather

Back in July of 2011 I wrote a pretty geeky post about adding grib files to iNavx by first jailbreaking your iPad and then doing a series of complicated steps to get the gribs from Airmail (or wherever you download them from) to the iPad. I’m here to say that with newer versions of iOS (5+) there is an easier way. First I should explain why this is a concern. If you are bluewater cruising, chances are you will not be able to use iNavX’s built in GRIB downloader. This means that you will have to download them through Airmail, zygrib, Ocens, mailasail, or what have you. These programs all have decent grib viewers but it is sometimes nice to overlay these on your charts. Enter the solution. ...

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. ...

Last week I failed to appear at a Pacific Puddle Jump planning meeting and was consequentially elected to be the “Admiral” of the Banderas Bay “Fleet.” It’s not entirely clear to me what this means so I am assuming that I am the project manager of a cat herding operation. The Pacific Puddle Jump started nearly 20 years ago as a way for pre-gps, pre-accurate-long-term-weather sailors to support each other in crossing the largest ocean in the world. Over the years technology and knowledge base have matured and become fairly ubiquitous. The upshot is that nearly anyone can spend a little time on the internet and reap the wisdom necessary to cross the ocean. In spite of this sailors up and down the Pacific coast of the Americas still flock to the PPJ meetings in search of social connection, reassurance, and more information. ...

Other than Tucker not going to work it seems like our day to day routines are really normal. Tucker wakes up early with the kids and makes me coffee before he gives me my wake up call. We make a breakfast or two and get dressed for the day. We go about our day doing boat projects or walk to a grocery store, or look for a place to do laundry. The kids play, read, do workbooks, make crafty projects, make messes, play games and video games, go for walks, find parks, climb trees, go to the beach, and visit with friends. All of our meals are at home or packed up as picnics. The pace is really perfect. Ruby has time to sew with my help; to concentrate on her cursive handwriting; or to sit in between Olive and I and give us very specific and serious lessons so that we can become competent Angry Birds players. Olive looks for jobs and fixing projects whenever he can. Today he very seriously threaded buttons onto embroidery thread (really a distraction so I could work with Ruby on her project) and made several strands as gifts for all of us. ...

My best friend from elementary school (Ransom) and his family came out this Saturday for a sail. We planned this months ago, and as we seem to hold little sway with the weather gods, had to take what was offered on that front. When they arrived it was slightly overcast and the tide was negative. We wasted no time getting the boat ready to leave though, and made it off the dock in what seemed like record time. ...

It’s 2:30 PST and the majority of the tsunami seems to have come and gone. Reports from around the Bay seem to be marginally more severe than what we experienced but still nothing serious. We observed 2’ walls of water moving at several knots parallel to the Golden Gate Bridge. Just before the tsunami surge hit our breakwater the standing water receded and left the muddy bottom bare. Then the wave(s) hit and created a ton of turbulence, kicking up mud and causing an impressive flotilla of water foul to stream by in parade. ...

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.” ...

I wasn’t at home when we were tied into slip A58 in Monterey Harbor. I was homesick. Surprising yes, since I was on my own boat, tied up with my usual dock lines, cooking in my own galley, and sleeping in my own bed. I spent my time in Monterey constantly checking the three forecast areas on NOAA to find our perfect weather window to head north. Again, I was surprised at myself. The trip north is usually hard, wet, and cold. Our boat is in great shape and we could actually (foolishly) cash in Tucker’s retirement accounts and head south for at least a year. I always want to go south, or anywhere warmer than wherever I am. But I wanted to go north, to go home. ...

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. ...