Thursday, February 19, 2015

Boat Life - Random Thoughts and Random Photos

On a recent beautiful Sunday afternoon in Fort Myers, Florida, as I checked items off my list of boat chores that must be done before we left in the morning for our next stop, I got to thinking about how life aboard a 38' trawler is different from life in a house. Then I decided that maybe at least some of our friends would want to know how we do ordinary things, things that no one who lives in a house - or apartment, or condo, or even a mobile home - really thinks about very often, things like:
  • How do you...do laundry? get groceries? refill prescriptions? get your mail? 
  • Will Midas go with you?  How will he "get busy"? Does he get seasick? 
  • What about your house? 
  • What do you have to do on a boat that you don't do at home?   
I've mentioned some of those things in earlier blogs, mostly in passing, and I've commented about some of them on my Facebook page. This post will be the "nitty-gritty" of boat life - the good, the bad, the beautiful, and yes, the ugly. So here goes...

At our house in Dahlonega, laundry is simply a matter of stuffing dirty clothes into the washer, adding detergent and Oxiclean, and turning it on. We keep two laundry baskets on top of the washer & dryer, one for whites and one for colors. On a boat, it starts with gathering up any random items that haven't already made it into the fold-up  hampers in my hanging closet, then hauling them to the marina's laundry room (at most stops). We have a small collapsible cart that I use when I'm taking two loads at once, especially when they're heavy. Other times, we just carry them, now that Mike has improved the thin handles by reinforcing them with white duct tape.  Don't forget detergent and Oxiclean, and be sure to have plenty of quarters. (One of our boat "best practices" is to never ever spend a quarter. All quarters are mine, and they go into a small ziplock bag until needed. Most marinas keep a supply on hand and will exchange a roll of them for $10.) The cost per load to wash has ranged from free (very rare) to $1 or $2 and sometimes more.  Dryers are usually the same cost as the washers. 

Some boaters hang out in the laundry room until their clothes are done; unless we've had to go to an off-site laundromat in town, I start the wash, set the timer on my phone, and come back to the boat.  I leave the laundry hampers on top of the machines, and if another boater needs the washer before I get back to move them to the dryer, it's a given that the next person can put the clothes in the hamper or into a vacant dryer. The same principle applies to dryers. If you need a dryer, take the finished load out and leave it in the basket or on the folding table that most marinas have in their laundry. One especially kind fellow Looper even folds the other boater's clothes for them (going above and beyond, if you ask me). When all loads are done, it's back to the boat to fold and put away. We generally have two loads/week, and sometimes more. 

Boaters don't get groceries, we "provision." Yes, my grammar Nazi persona, lurking just beneath the surface, flinches with every use of a noun as a verb, but that's boat jargon, and we must sound nautical, musn't we? When we're lucky, the marina may have a courtesy car, or a Harbor Host may offer to provide transportation. In many waterfront towns, there's a grocery store within walking distance of the marina, so we unfold our collapsible red wagon, grab our insulated bags (we now have four) and set off, pulling the wagon behind us. Midas often goes along, and he waits outside, leashed to a post or bench, when there's a shady spot. Mike sometimes waits with him, which means more efficient shopping for me.  We bought the cart after seeing another boater pulling one back to Atlantic Yacht Basin, and it has proven very useful. In some stores, I take the cart in and load it up instead of pushing a basket. Funny looks? A few, but when they learn we're traveling by boat, most folks smile and agree that the cart is a great idea.  

Once the provisions are back on the boat, the first challenge is finding space for everything, especially in our four-foot tall refrigerator.  The freezer is very small, and it's not frost-free. With six ice trays and a gallon size zip-lock bag full of ice taking up most of the lower level, we stuff bags of frozen veggies on the top shelf; meat goes into zip-lock bags behind the ice trays.  Finding items can also be a challenge, since there's no light in the fridge.  Solution? Turn on the work light over the stove, stoop down or squat, and pull things out to see what's hiding behind the items on the front of the shelves.  And don't buy the large economy size of anything, because the containers are too tall for the shelves. They have just barely enough room for a can of beer or ginger ale, and the door shelves are too small for a tea pitcher. 
Since none of our friends or family have been able to join us for part of the trip since April, we use the forward cabin as pantry space for items like the personal size shop vac, napkins, 12-packs of paper towels (a high use necessity), garbage bags, sheets for the forward bunks, and 12-packs of ginger ale. Mike built shelves in the forward hanging locker to increase our storage space. The back wall follows the inward curve of the bow.

 Cooking in the small galley is the second challenge, with minimal counter space, a four-burner LP gas stove, small stainless steel sinks, and no sprayer to rinse dishes.Despite the limitations, Marian has managed to produce some pretty darn good meals, simple but tasty and filling.  We put the toaster oven and microwave to good use.
                                                           



Prescription refills can be fun.  Mike's daily assortment is all on file with Walmart, and any Walmart can pull him up in the computer and provide a 90-day supply.  The one exception was when he needed a refill while we were in Canada.  Pharmacies there have only recently been allowed to accept prescriptions from a Canadian doctor in a different province, and don't even think about getting your U.S. doctor to fax or phone in a prescription.  When the Walmart in Parry Sound, Ontario couldn't refill a blood pressure medication, 
Mike had to go to a nursing station in Britt, our next stop. Once he visited the nursing station, using the marina's courtesy car, the pharmacy in -- you guessed it: Parry Sound -- sent the medicine by courier, the next day.  The marina manager kindly picked it up on her way to work. I've used CVS for the two daily prescriptions I take.  The Fort Myers Beach CVS, a five-minute walk from the marina, was filling the prescription when we arrived, thanks to a Sunday afternoon phone call from our family doctor.  The Marco Island CVS was a bit harder; our doctor's office had phoned in the information but did not think to spell my first name.  When we arrived, they had no record of the call, even though the doctor's office assured me they had called immediately.  The pharmacist who took the information misheard "Marian" as "Mary Ann" (a common mistake), and the information was on a piece of paper!  Thanks to my persistence and the pharmacist being willing to go beyond the computer, Mary Ann became Marian, and I soon had my prescription.

There are probably as many ways to get mail as there are Loopers. Some use a mail service that collects and forwards mail; others rely on family. We are beyond blessed to have next-door neighbors who not only keep an eye on the house and check on it regularly but also collect our mail.  By now, Christine can tell which items can be left for later in our house and which may need attention. When mail looks important, she uses her iPhone to take pictures of the envelopes (or opens the mail and takes pictures of the contents), then texts it to us.  During our first week on Marco Island, Mike had received a letter from the Veterans Administration and one from his Masonic lodge.  Mike was able to read them; we found a business that would accept an incoming fax, and we were able to handle both matters quickly.  Christine has also forwarded mail to a marina to hold for us, and most marinas are happy to hold mail for their transient customers. It's routine for them.

As most readers of this blog know, of course Midas came with us. We would not have made the trip without him, and by now he's a seasoned sailor.  When we're docked or anchored, he curls up on his mat while we're in the salon; when he's ready to call it a night, he stretches, stares at us as if to say, "Don't you guys think it's bedtime?", then picks up his chew-bone and goes down the two steps from the salon to the master cabin, where he curls up on his towel in the middle of our bed.  Some evenings, he wants to join us on the couch, and we always make room.  

So far, he hasn't shown any signs of serious seasickness, but when the water gets rough - especially when the waves are hitting us broadside and causing the boat to roll - we can tell he's uneasy.  He begins panting and moves as close to Marian on the bench as he can get.  Now that he has an anxiety bandana, he's more comfortable in rough water. The bandana has a Velcro-sealed pouch, which we fill with a mixture of lavender and other aromatic herbs. Within a few minutes, Midas is his usual relaxed self.  
One of the best attributes of Goldens, at least for boating Goldens, is their amazing ability to go for hours and hours between potty stops.  When we're cruising, it's one trip ashore after he eats breakfast and one after he eats dinner. If we're docked, we give him more frequent breaks.  If we know we'll have an especially long day, we reduce the amount of food he gets for breakfast and limit his water.  He made the 20-hour crossing from Carrabelle to Dunedin with no problems, and he's finally becoming less particular about suitable "poopy places." Thick grass will do when there's no long weeds available, and we never leave the boat without poop bags.  It's all part of owning a dog, and the joy that Midas brings us and the many people he's met on our travels makes it all worthwhile.

Boatkeeping instead of housekeeping requires a different set of skills and a different routine.  Mike has become a near-expert diesel mechanic, at least when it comes to routine maintenance like oil changes (every 100 hours), checking the oil before every cruising day, changing fuel filters, repairing or replacing light fixtures, installing a bilge pump... there's always something that needs to be done.  When the color coating on the inside of the running lights faded, we went to an Office Depot in Fort Myers to get new red and green plastic film (print an intense color on transparency paper), and Mike used our time at Rose Marina on Marco Island to install the replacement film.  The lights now glow bright red on the port side and bright green on starboard. 

Marine toilets don't work like land-based ones, and when we come into a marina, we typically have to pump out the holding tank. No solid waste goes into the aft head, which has a manual pump for flushing, and toilet paper goes into a Walmart/Publix/Shop'nGo/IGA plastic bag lined trash can in the under-sink cabinet. Pull the bag out, tie it, and add it to the regular garbage bag when we take trash ashore.  For the forward head, we use special RV/Marine toilet paper, which dissolves in the tank, and we use only as much as absolutely necessary. When we're docked at a marina, we try to use the shore-based restrooms as much as possible. 
 Our fresh water tank holds 250 gallons, and we fill it at each marina before we leave.  Mike installed two water filters on the stern to make sure our drinking water is always sweet tasting. The white hose on the left goes into the opening below - after we remove the cover, of course.  Filling the tank is usually, but not always, Marian's job. 

 

 The dinghy, attached to its davits and ready to board, after we add life jackets.
Especially when we know that we'll then be anchoring out or on a mooring ball for several days, we're very frugal with our finite water supply. We've found that showering every other day when anchored out is sufficient. Our recent stay in Smokehouse Bay on Marco Island set a new record - six consecutive days. We don't leave the faucet running to wash dishes; don't leave the water running when we brush our teeth. Showers are short and shampoos are less frequent.   Turn on the water; wet yourself all over - including hair on shampoo days; lather up your hair; squirt shower gel onto the net scrubber; wash, shave underarms. NOW you can turn the water back on to rinse. We still get clean.  When we're at a marina, we take advantage of their facilities to take long, luxurious showers. 

Before we leave a dock or pull the anchor, there's a checklist:
1. Check the engine oil - which means Mike pulls up the hatch in the salon floor, drops into the engine room, and pulls the dipstick to make sure the oil level is correct. How many of you check the oil in your car before you start it every day? The trusty Ford Lehman diesel is on the left and the Westerbeke generator is on the right in the picture below.
 2. Set up the upper helm for travel - turn on the VHF radio and the GPS, plug in the iPad and external GPS and make sure that Bluetooth is active and that our boat is in the correct position on the Garmin BlueChart mobile display.  This chart enables us to access Active Captain and find invaluable information on marinas, anchorages, locks, and bridge clearances. For anchorages and marinas, we rely heavily on the user reviews and whether there's a good place to take pets ashore.  And don't forget our second cups of coffee!  



On warm, sunny days, we leave the hatch from the aft deck to the salon open, making it easy to go below for a snack or a cold drink.  The steps on the right side of the photo lead to the aft deck.
When we're underway, the Garmin cover is off, and the iPad is positioned to the left. The skipper focuses primarily on the Garmin Chartplotter and the first mate watches the iPad display, which can be enlarged to show detail of the area; the Active Captain overlay on BlueChart Mobile has icons that open to tell us about marinas and anchorages in the area, bridge heights, and more.
 
3.  If we're docked, we have to disconnect the shore power cord from the pedestal on the dock and from the connector next to the cabin entry, roll up the heavy cord, and stow it under the port seat on the upper helm.  If we've anchored out, we start the engine; Marian turns on the windlass at the main panel and goes to the bow while Mike and Midas take their positions on the upper helm. As Mike steers, Marian steps on the switch in the deck to activate the windlass and pull in the anchor, usually a smooth process.  With the high winds we've had lately, we've begun setting out two anchors; Marian pulls in the back-up anchor manually, then uses the windlass to pull in the primary one.
4. Leaving a slip is no longer the big challenge it was when we began the Loop because Mike has become an expert at maneuvering Midas Touch, even in strong wind or current.  Once the engine is running, Mike unties the dock lines (sometimes with help from the marina dock hand) and steps aboard as Marian stands by with the boat hook to keep us away from pilings and nearby boats. Mike goes quickly to the upper helm to "wheel" the boat out of a slip or away from a tie alongside dock, and once we're clear, Marian coils the lines and pulls in the fenders.
As we approach the dock in a marina, there's a different procedure. 
1. Marian's job is to deploy the fenders and have a bow line, stern line and midship line ready to toss to the dockhand as Mike carefully maneuvers the boat into the slip or alongside the dock. Before we approach, we hail the marina on VHF channel 16 to let them know we're close and to get our slip assignment. (Sometimes we get our slip number when we make our reservation, and we always ask for a starboard tie-up because the exit door and shore power connection is on the starboard side.) 
2. Once we're in throwing range, Marian stands on the bow and heaves the line to the dockhand.  Her cowgirl skills have improved on the trip, and she almost never misses.  The first line is the key; once that line is secured to a cleat, Mike shifts into reverse and the stern naturally swings toward the dock, close enough that Marian can simply pass the stern line across to the dock hand.  Mike and the dock hand then adjust the lines to pull the boat as close to the dock as possible; Marian brings the power cord down from the upper helm and connects it to the boat, then takes the other end to Mike to plug us in to the pedestal, flips a few switches at the main panel, et voila - shore power! Electricity. Lights are brighter. We can vacuum, charge house batteries, run the water heater, and watch TV (if we can pick up any stations. Reception here in southwest Florida is poor.)
Anchoring requires a different set of steps, again with Mike at the helm and Marian on the bow. Midas wants to come to the bow to help, but we try to keep him on the upper helm and out of the way.  
1. Marian first makes sure the windlass switches are set to on, then stands at the bow, right foot ready, until we reach a good spot and the right depth, ideally 10 - 12 feet.  Mike calls out "Now!" and Marian steps on the down switch, letting the anchor drop, first 50' of chain, then 10 - 30 feet of "rode." The length of rode depends on our depth and the tide, with the scope ranging from 4 to 1 with minimal tidal shifts, little current and light winds to 7 to 1 in areas like the Georgia coast with a bigger tidal range.  
2. Once the anchor is down, Marian makes sure the rode is taut and the anchor is holding, then cuts the engine. Lately, when we've anchored with high winds predicted, we've set a second anchor as a back-up. This involves dropping the second anchor to Mike in the dinghy; Mike then putt-putts out at least as far as the primary anchor, drops the Danforth anchor (two prongs instead of the one point on the primary plow anchor), and Marian dogs it down to the Samson post on the bow.  

3. When the anchors are secure, we load up the dinghy and head ashore, either to a dinghy dock, a boat ramp, or a sandy (if we're lucky) beach.  Midas is always happy to set foot on land and find a "get busy" spot. 


Questions?  Just ask!  

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