"You've got to hold it! Hold it!"
-Toto
Dock Six was getting blown around pretty good last Wednesday, and I walked the dock checking lines, making sure that nobody's boat is going to bolt. I saw a lot of old lines, and undersized lines, and frayed lines, but I didn't see a lot of chafing gear. I know, it doesn't look nice to have a piece of leather (best) or a length of hose (better than nothing) wrapped around you docklines,and it seems like nobody sells ready-made chafing guards where they sell ready- made docklines, but the alternative is so much worse.
(In the background, behind the slapping halyards, howling wind and lame narration, you can hear Finn whining his disapproval. When a pooch thinks your line set-up is pooched, you've got a problem.)
I am not a docking expert, or an expert on lines, but here is what I have learned:
When you buy docklines, spend the extra couple of bucks to buy lines one size in diameter larger than the guide on the back of the dockline box says you need. It will save you a ton of money, and make your boat ride more comfortably. I replaced hardened, frayed 3/8" lines every year, until I had the genius thought to use 1/2" lines.
More comfortable ride in a blow, less wear and tear means replacement less often. Once again, I saved money by spending more up front, but spent too much before I spent enough...
...this seems to be the story of my life.
Thanks for checking us out. Feel free to "Talk the Dock!" Link us, follow us, or just tell your friends.
Monday, 6 June 2011
New sailor, new friend
"How do you feel by the end of the day?"
-The Beatles
Need unsolicited advice, unwanted opinions, or unnecessary verbal assistance on whatever you have already half-finished?
I'm your guy.
(Hey, recognizing the problem is the first step toward solving it, isn't it?)
Over the last decade or so, I have learned something- what can be really annoying in real life can have some real value in cyberspace. Now, with the dozens of sailing and boating forums and message boards online, I have outlets for all of my opinionizing, which eases the suffering of the long-suffering SWMBO.
I have also managed to meet some interesting people along the way.
One of them came sailing with us on Sunday.
A few months back, Guy posted a question on Sailnet. I answered, and we soon struck up a keyboard-to-keyboard conversation. He had not sailed in decades, but had recently bought an Abbot 22 sailboat.
Which he had yet to sail.
Guy was signed up for a liveaboard sailing course on Georgian Bay at the end of June. In April I extended an offer to provide some time on the water beforehand, if he wanted. Often, interest wanes or life gets in the way, so I was pleased that Guy took me up on my offer. Turns out, Guy had concerns:
He had bought a boat, he had signed up for a course, but what if he didn't like it? What if he got seasick? What if he couldn't do it? He had last sailed a dinghy decades ago, and the experience had ended badly.
In my experience, sailing with unknown greenhorns can go one of two ways. It is either a great day with a new friend at the end of it eager to return, or it is a day cut short with a lot of cleaning at the dock, solo.
We arranged to meet on the Dock at 11:00 am on Sunday. Guy showed up right on time.
That is a good sign.
With a bottle of wine.
That is an even better sign.
Sunday was perfect for sailing. Sunny, warm, with a decent breeze out of the West. Our friend Pam is going to be joining us so while we await her arrival, I give Guy a quick safety lecture, outline our loose schedule for the day, and explain our first port of call is going to be the pump-out dock, as our holding tank was at the point where it would no longer hold. He laughs and replies, "I get to experience all aspects of cruising life today, even the unpleasant realities!"
I'm starting to like this guy, Guy.
Pam arrives, we load, up, get squared away and depart. Our pump-out is uneventful, (with the exception of the dock girl dropping her tip in the water.) and we left the marina. We motored around to the river mouth, and headed upstream for the nickel tour that every visitor on Whiskeyjack gets. We pass under the lift bridge, past the Yacht Club, past Gamble's shipyard, and when the water starts to get skinny, we turn back downstream. I turn the wheel over to Guy, and he gets it figured out. We have one close call with a dock, but we got it sorted, no contact was made, and Guy didn't panic.
Yeah, this guy, Guy, is alright.
We leave the river and motor out past the anchored boats ringing the beach, raise the main and shut down the diesel. For the next five hours we wander about the bay, playing wiht sail trim and trading off jobs, from helm to jib sheets to railmeat and back. We saw no wind, we saw GREAT wind, we were sometimes dead in the water, other times hitting hull speed and hearing the waves chuckle along our hull. It was one of the best days of sailing in recent memory.
How did Guy fare?
He's well and truly hooked.
We hope to see him again next weekend.
-The Beatles
Need unsolicited advice, unwanted opinions, or unnecessary verbal assistance on whatever you have already half-finished?
I'm your guy.
(Hey, recognizing the problem is the first step toward solving it, isn't it?)
Over the last decade or so, I have learned something- what can be really annoying in real life can have some real value in cyberspace. Now, with the dozens of sailing and boating forums and message boards online, I have outlets for all of my opinionizing, which eases the suffering of the long-suffering SWMBO.
I have also managed to meet some interesting people along the way.
One of them came sailing with us on Sunday.
A few months back, Guy posted a question on Sailnet. I answered, and we soon struck up a keyboard-to-keyboard conversation. He had not sailed in decades, but had recently bought an Abbot 22 sailboat.
Which he had yet to sail.
Guy was signed up for a liveaboard sailing course on Georgian Bay at the end of June. In April I extended an offer to provide some time on the water beforehand, if he wanted. Often, interest wanes or life gets in the way, so I was pleased that Guy took me up on my offer. Turns out, Guy had concerns:
He had bought a boat, he had signed up for a course, but what if he didn't like it? What if he got seasick? What if he couldn't do it? He had last sailed a dinghy decades ago, and the experience had ended badly.
In my experience, sailing with unknown greenhorns can go one of two ways. It is either a great day with a new friend at the end of it eager to return, or it is a day cut short with a lot of cleaning at the dock, solo.
We arranged to meet on the Dock at 11:00 am on Sunday. Guy showed up right on time.
That is a good sign.
With a bottle of wine.
That is an even better sign.
Sunday was perfect for sailing. Sunny, warm, with a decent breeze out of the West. Our friend Pam is going to be joining us so while we await her arrival, I give Guy a quick safety lecture, outline our loose schedule for the day, and explain our first port of call is going to be the pump-out dock, as our holding tank was at the point where it would no longer hold. He laughs and replies, "I get to experience all aspects of cruising life today, even the unpleasant realities!"
I'm starting to like this guy, Guy.
Pam arrives, we load, up, get squared away and depart. Our pump-out is uneventful, (with the exception of the dock girl dropping her tip in the water.) and we left the marina. We motored around to the river mouth, and headed upstream for the nickel tour that every visitor on Whiskeyjack gets. We pass under the lift bridge, past the Yacht Club, past Gamble's shipyard, and when the water starts to get skinny, we turn back downstream. I turn the wheel over to Guy, and he gets it figured out. We have one close call with a dock, but we got it sorted, no contact was made, and Guy didn't panic.
Yeah, this guy, Guy, is alright.
We leave the river and motor out past the anchored boats ringing the beach, raise the main and shut down the diesel. For the next five hours we wander about the bay, playing wiht sail trim and trading off jobs, from helm to jib sheets to railmeat and back. We saw no wind, we saw GREAT wind, we were sometimes dead in the water, other times hitting hull speed and hearing the waves chuckle along our hull. It was one of the best days of sailing in recent memory.
How did Guy fare?
He's well and truly hooked.
We hope to see him again next weekend.
Dock Changes
"I watch the ripples change their size, but never leave the stream..."
-David Bowie
On Friday, James dropped a bombshell. He was selling George Too Two. Saturday morning she took her last cruise past the Dock on the way to her trailer.
As of Saturday morning, James didn't have a boat to replace her. It looks like he is going to be off the Dock for the duration.
This is one hangdog looking crew:
Think they are happy about the prospect of leaving the Dock, even temporarily?
Goodbye, George Too Two.
Meanwhile, as one boat leaves, another shows up. Friday I notice ANOTHER Siren on the dock.
The damn things are taking over.
There is another "small world" story attached to this boat. As Marianne tells it, she and Jim saw the owners rigging her in the parking lot, and, a)being fellow Siren owners and b) being sailors who love to talk about boats, they struck up a conversation. Marianne and Jim were born, raised, and continue to live in a small village north of Port Dover that nobody (except locals) has ever heard of. Turns out these new Siren sailors have ancestors from the same village. Further turns out that they were Marianne's great-great-grandsomething's neighbours!
Late Saturday morning the weather turned sour.
In short order the skies rained hell from above. Lightning, thunder, dropping temps and heavy rain led humans and dogs to head below and button up. Our new companionway door did a great job of keeping the weather where it belonged. An hour later the sky cleared, and James and George wandered down the dock bearing gifts of beer and rum.
Apparently, Dock withdrawal set in quickly.
Through the afternoon we managed to make a significant but purely scientific, dent in the fine bottle of rum that James provided, as research for an upcoming "Rum Review Part II" post.
And we talked boats.
James knew what he wanted in his next boat, it was just a matter of finding the right boat. He thinks he may have found it.
Sunday morning dawns beautiful, and just gets better. As I am enjoying my morning coffee in the cockpit, what do I spy motoring up the fairway?
James has a new boat!
Soon to be renamed Instigator, she looks to be a solid all-weather fishing machine.
Total number of lost days Off-Dock: 0
There's also new additions to the feathered population on the Dock.
New Canada goslings...
And new ducklings
They sure are cute when they're not crapping on the dock.
As always, thanks for checking us out. Please feel free to "Talk the Dock." Link us, follow us, or just tell your friends!
-David Bowie
On Friday, James dropped a bombshell. He was selling George Too Two. Saturday morning she took her last cruise past the Dock on the way to her trailer.
As of Saturday morning, James didn't have a boat to replace her. It looks like he is going to be off the Dock for the duration.
This is one hangdog looking crew:
Think they are happy about the prospect of leaving the Dock, even temporarily?
Goodbye, George Too Two.
Meanwhile, as one boat leaves, another shows up. Friday I notice ANOTHER Siren on the dock.
There is another "small world" story attached to this boat. As Marianne tells it, she and Jim saw the owners rigging her in the parking lot, and, a)being fellow Siren owners and b) being sailors who love to talk about boats, they struck up a conversation. Marianne and Jim were born, raised, and continue to live in a small village north of Port Dover that nobody (except locals) has ever heard of. Turns out these new Siren sailors have ancestors from the same village. Further turns out that they were Marianne's great-great-grandsomething's neighbours!
Late Saturday morning the weather turned sour.
In short order the skies rained hell from above. Lightning, thunder, dropping temps and heavy rain led humans and dogs to head below and button up. Our new companionway door did a great job of keeping the weather where it belonged. An hour later the sky cleared, and James and George wandered down the dock bearing gifts of beer and rum.
Apparently, Dock withdrawal set in quickly.
Through the afternoon we managed to make a significant but purely scientific, dent in the fine bottle of rum that James provided, as research for an upcoming "Rum Review Part II" post.
And we talked boats.
James knew what he wanted in his next boat, it was just a matter of finding the right boat. He thinks he may have found it.
Sunday morning dawns beautiful, and just gets better. As I am enjoying my morning coffee in the cockpit, what do I spy motoring up the fairway?
James has a new boat!
Soon to be renamed Instigator, she looks to be a solid all-weather fishing machine.
Total number of lost days Off-Dock: 0
There's also new additions to the feathered population on the Dock.
New Canada goslings...
And new ducklings
They sure are cute when they're not crapping on the dock.
As always, thanks for checking us out. Please feel free to "Talk the Dock." Link us, follow us, or just tell your friends!
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
First Blog from the Boat!
"The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound..."
-Gordon Lightfoot
The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the wind. Is. HOWLING!
SWMBO and I decided to celebrate the 10th anniversary of our first date on Whiskeyjack. No fancy dinner, no roses, just us, the dogs, and a new board game. I headed down early to provision, and load the mutts.
Photos really don't do the wind and waves justice. I'll post video later.
Inky is her usual blissed-out-on-the-boat self...
While Finn has to explore everything from stem...
...to stern, as quickly as possible.
I've got some unpacking to do, so I'll catch up with you all later on.
-Gordon Lightfoot
The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the wind. Is. HOWLING!
SWMBO and I decided to celebrate the 10th anniversary of our first date on Whiskeyjack. No fancy dinner, no roses, just us, the dogs, and a new board game. I headed down early to provision, and load the mutts.
Photos really don't do the wind and waves justice. I'll post video later.
Inky is her usual blissed-out-on-the-boat self...
...to stern, as quickly as possible.
I've got some unpacking to do, so I'll catch up with you all later on.
Tuesday, 31 May 2011
Bittersweet Hope
"Gotta kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight."
-Bruce Cockburn
I'm overweight, short, balding and going grey simultaneously, damn near blind as a bat and not as limber as I was when I was 20...
And I am so very, very lucky.
I have gotten a lot of good sailing and boat advice on the forums at www.sailnet.com over the years, and occasionally some much needed perspective.
A frequent provider of good advice is a catamaran cruiser named John, with the handle "Imagine2Frolic." He and his wife Melanie set sail last year from Florida through the Panama canal and beyond. Then life decided to kick John's ass.
As he tells it...
"...My friends would ask if I am afraid at times, and I would answer, yes. What scares me most would be to miss out on what cruising has to offer. When you are with people who share the same dream you will find tons of help, and friendliness.
Last year we had to leave Imagine in Panama. I was physically fit, and looking so forward to the sail to Hawaii. The day we left I started to get a pain behind my ear. Like any pain I have always pushed through it, and eventually the body would take care of itself. This was different for 3 days without sleep it grew worse, and began to wrap around my brain. On the fourth day I could not stay awake, and I confessed to Melanie my situation. We turned back for Panama, and flew to the states.
I have never been shy about who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. This has been a difficult decision to make, but I have made it for multiple reasons. I have made some promises to myself, and to others. Also I want to pound into those on the fence to get it together, and go. Enjoy life while you have your health. That doesn't mean to just up, and leave. Get your sailing skills together, your finances , boat, and do as Zee types in her signature. Life is an adventure meant to be lived! You don't need the biggest boat out there just the heart to go!
I was told 6 weeks of treatment, and a month of healing, and I could return to Imagine. It did not turn out that way. After nearly 8 months of treatment being probed, cooked alive, poisoned, and losing nearly 60lbs of mostly muscle. I refused anymore treatment until it was modified. Eventually the last treatment I took I was told if I did not respond then I need to think about where I want to take my last breath. I didn't respond, and I was not going to be a science project. I made the decision I would live my life, and not let science wither me away until my last breath.
So, Melanie, my little brown love, and I have returned to Imagine. I refuse to let her sit here, and rot while I myself rot in S.F. Ca. We will sail to Hawaii where I can place my father's ashes as I promised to him. Then we will sail home to the S.F. Bay Area where we will eventually sell Imagine. She is our home, and when we sell her will depend on the timing of my life. I promised her family to return her to her country, and to care for her. The sale of Imagine will insure our return to the Phils, and to be finacially ok. The economy was not good to us. That's not a complaint, but a fact.
Imagine has had some issues from sitting in the tropics, but we are sorting those out. We had Spot tracker when we left Florida last year for S.F., and we will continue to have it. It is mostly by Mel, and her thoughts about our past life with Imagine, and our current situation. I have also added a blog titled SAILING with CANCER, ONE MAN's race against TIME! I am not a writer, but I will drift around describiing our past, our current, and our future adventures with Imagine. There will be some beautiful pics, and a few grizzly photos of my health early this year in both sites.
I know this is kind of depressing, but there is some good news. Since I have quit treatment I have put on about 20lbs. I could not hold a pencil in Feb, and now I am carrying water jugs, batteries, and what ever is needed to make Imagine fit. I don't have a lot of stamina, and all my strength. What I do have is a wonderful friend, mentor to sailing, who is flying in for the sail to Hawaii.
There will be updates while we prepare Imagine with photos of our progress. Hopefully we will get our hands on a sat phone of somekind to have updates across the Pacific. Hopefully you will find my writing entertaining, and you will follow us on our race against time......."
-Bruce Cockburn
I'm overweight, short, balding and going grey simultaneously, damn near blind as a bat and not as limber as I was when I was 20...
And I am so very, very lucky.
I have gotten a lot of good sailing and boat advice on the forums at www.sailnet.com over the years, and occasionally some much needed perspective.
A frequent provider of good advice is a catamaran cruiser named John, with the handle "Imagine2Frolic." He and his wife Melanie set sail last year from Florida through the Panama canal and beyond. Then life decided to kick John's ass.
As he tells it...
"...My friends would ask if I am afraid at times, and I would answer, yes. What scares me most would be to miss out on what cruising has to offer. When you are with people who share the same dream you will find tons of help, and friendliness.
Last year we had to leave Imagine in Panama. I was physically fit, and looking so forward to the sail to Hawaii. The day we left I started to get a pain behind my ear. Like any pain I have always pushed through it, and eventually the body would take care of itself. This was different for 3 days without sleep it grew worse, and began to wrap around my brain. On the fourth day I could not stay awake, and I confessed to Melanie my situation. We turned back for Panama, and flew to the states.
I have never been shy about who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. This has been a difficult decision to make, but I have made it for multiple reasons. I have made some promises to myself, and to others. Also I want to pound into those on the fence to get it together, and go. Enjoy life while you have your health. That doesn't mean to just up, and leave. Get your sailing skills together, your finances , boat, and do as Zee types in her signature. Life is an adventure meant to be lived! You don't need the biggest boat out there just the heart to go!
I was told 6 weeks of treatment, and a month of healing, and I could return to Imagine. It did not turn out that way. After nearly 8 months of treatment being probed, cooked alive, poisoned, and losing nearly 60lbs of mostly muscle. I refused anymore treatment until it was modified. Eventually the last treatment I took I was told if I did not respond then I need to think about where I want to take my last breath. I didn't respond, and I was not going to be a science project. I made the decision I would live my life, and not let science wither me away until my last breath.
So, Melanie, my little brown love, and I have returned to Imagine. I refuse to let her sit here, and rot while I myself rot in S.F. Ca. We will sail to Hawaii where I can place my father's ashes as I promised to him. Then we will sail home to the S.F. Bay Area where we will eventually sell Imagine. She is our home, and when we sell her will depend on the timing of my life. I promised her family to return her to her country, and to care for her. The sale of Imagine will insure our return to the Phils, and to be finacially ok. The economy was not good to us. That's not a complaint, but a fact.
Imagine has had some issues from sitting in the tropics, but we are sorting those out. We had Spot tracker when we left Florida last year for S.F., and we will continue to have it. It is mostly by Mel, and her thoughts about our past life with Imagine, and our current situation. I have also added a blog titled SAILING with CANCER, ONE MAN's race against TIME! I am not a writer, but I will drift around describiing our past, our current, and our future adventures with Imagine. There will be some beautiful pics, and a few grizzly photos of my health early this year in both sites.
I know this is kind of depressing, but there is some good news. Since I have quit treatment I have put on about 20lbs. I could not hold a pencil in Feb, and now I am carrying water jugs, batteries, and what ever is needed to make Imagine fit. I don't have a lot of stamina, and all my strength. What I do have is a wonderful friend, mentor to sailing, who is flying in for the sail to Hawaii.
There will be updates while we prepare Imagine with photos of our progress. Hopefully we will get our hands on a sat phone of somekind to have updates across the Pacific. Hopefully you will find my writing entertaining, and you will follow us on our race against time......."
I found John's words to be humbling, moving and inspiring. I wish him and Melanie all the best on their journey, and will be following along here:
Monday, 30 May 2011
"In" Season Continues...
So many people come walking by, looking so happy..."
-Ivan Neville
Hot, hazy, humid... THIS is the promise that we hold onto all damn winter. The hope that the lake will thaw,the rain and snow will stop, the sun will return, the fish will bite, and the wind will blow.
It seems that the promise has been kept..
Lots of traffic on the Dock and in the marina today, and every face I saw had an ear-to-ear grin.
Spring is the season of rebirth, and rebirth was a familiar theme among Docksters. Jim and Marianne debuted their new fishing boat...
slipped beside their painted and polished Siren, Cranky.
Ooooohhhh, pretty!
I'm gonna start a pool on when the first scratch is inflicted on the perfect finish in the cockpit- I'm calling June 2.
Speaking of Jims, Carpe Diem splashed today.
Jim was hard at work this winter renewing the brightwork, installing a new motor, adding some teak, and making an already pretty boat even prettier. I caught him just as he was finishing painting the cuddy.
You ever notice that nobody ever looks this happy while painting their house?
When we pulled into our slip on Friday, we were surprised to see Drifter in the water. SWMBO muttered, "It's kinda pitiful when a guy who doesn't even live in the country anymore has his boat in the water before us.:"
We managed to catch up with Steve on Sunday, and were pleased to hear that he will be back fairly frequently throughout the season.
Whiskeyjack has a new neighbour, a C&C 24:
And, of course, again this season, Dock Six gets the hoopty dock carts. We're okay with that, though- it means that other docks rarely borrow our dock carts.
Thanks for taking the time to check us out. Please feel free to "Talk the Dock!" Link us, follow us, or just tell your friends.
-Ivan Neville
Hot, hazy, humid... THIS is the promise that we hold onto all damn winter. The hope that the lake will thaw,the rain and snow will stop, the sun will return, the fish will bite, and the wind will blow.
It seems that the promise has been kept..
Lots of traffic on the Dock and in the marina today, and every face I saw had an ear-to-ear grin.
Spring is the season of rebirth, and rebirth was a familiar theme among Docksters. Jim and Marianne debuted their new fishing boat...
slipped beside their painted and polished Siren, Cranky.
Ooooohhhh, pretty!
I'm gonna start a pool on when the first scratch is inflicted on the perfect finish in the cockpit- I'm calling June 2.
Speaking of Jims, Carpe Diem splashed today.
Jim was hard at work this winter renewing the brightwork, installing a new motor, adding some teak, and making an already pretty boat even prettier. I caught him just as he was finishing painting the cuddy.
You ever notice that nobody ever looks this happy while painting their house?
When we pulled into our slip on Friday, we were surprised to see Drifter in the water. SWMBO muttered, "It's kinda pitiful when a guy who doesn't even live in the country anymore has his boat in the water before us.:"
We managed to catch up with Steve on Sunday, and were pleased to hear that he will be back fairly frequently throughout the season.
Whiskeyjack has a new neighbour, a C&C 24:
The fish are back. I think this one was grinning::
And, of course, again this season, Dock Six gets the hoopty dock carts. We're okay with that, though- it means that other docks rarely borrow our dock carts.
Thanks for taking the time to check us out. Please feel free to "Talk the Dock!" Link us, follow us, or just tell your friends.
Squared Away
"Baby, everything is alright, uptight, clean out of sight..."
-Stevie Wonder
Confession time:
I am a slob...
...On the hard.
In our dirt-home, my desk is a mess, I have a stack of books teetering on my bedside table, and the floor of my car is carpeted with receipts, napkins and bagel wrappers... straight-up Oscar Madison.
... All of which I cannot stand onboard. When I step onto the Dock, I turn into a compulsive neatnik. Everything on our boats has a place, and if it doesn't have a place then a) it leaves the boat in shame or b) I build a place for it, and then that thing had better be in it's damn place, dammit! I become Felix Unger in Topsiders.
(Hey, I think I may have discovered a new psychological ailment- Nautical Unger-Madison Disorder. I wonder if I can get a grant to do a long-term study?)
Therefore, it is not enough to simply have a boat in the water and sails on the spars. Nay, nay, we are not ready to sail until everything that came off the boat in the fall is loaded back onto the boat, back into it's designated spot, or the new spot created for it, or off-loaded when it is realized that it is redundant. Said redundant item will then be reloaded again as a "spare" to be off-loaded again later in the season when it is realized that is is, indeed, well and truly redundant...
... Which is usually three days before I will suddenly find a use for it. Right now. In the middle of the lake.
Maybe my nautical neatness fetish developed from a subconcious belief that lives may depend on it, but I don't think it is really that deep. Instead I think the fastidious fixation is directly related to the diminutive quarters aboard our boats. I can be a slob on the dirt, where there is the room to step around things, and I can close the door on clutter when guests arrive at stately Jones manor. Those luxuries do not exist on the Dock. The main cabin of Whiskeyjack, for example, is all of 6' wide by 6' in length. In that 36 square feet is packed a galley, a berth and a dinette that seats 3-4, the space functioning as kitchen, bar, navigation station, dining room, living room, game room, closet and kennel, often simultaneously. If one is constantly having to move items to get to other items, or if items move of their own volition when the boat leaves level, one's enjoyment of one's nautical home diminishes rapidly.
In other words, if you are going to be a slob, size matters.
Sunday dawned grey and damp, but by noon the sun had broken through and the humidity had started to climb. The grass needed mowing (again), the gardens needed weeding (again), the house could use a vaccuuming (again), but the boat needed to be rigged and loaded. I discussed it with SWMBO, and the decision was made to flip a coin. Heads we do house crap, tails we head to the Dock.
We were already gathering sailbags and cushions before the coin hit the floor.
SWMBO and I filled Lady Liberty from windshield to hatch, floor to ceiling with boatstuffs and headed to the Dock. A few hours later, with storm clouds threatening and thunder rolling in the distance, we relaxed in our squared away surroundings.
During the last couple of rainy days, SWMBO had been toiling over a set of fitted sheets for the v-berth, and was now able to nap-test her efforts:
(btw, SWMBO has dubbed the v-berth, with her ever-apt logic, the "nap station." After all, if a boat has a nav station which is used for navigation, then shouldn't the place where one snoozes also have a moniker?)
I survey the salon and call it good.
The low-buck spice rack has been repurposed as a low-buck binoc rack, and needs to be installed, but as the cabin stands now, nothing is going to crash from gunwale to gunwale on a 20 degree heel.
The cheap magnetic spice rack, seen above, fit the space better.
It's a fine line indeed between "cramped" and "cozy," but I think we're staying on the right side of it.
Thanks for taking the time to check us out. Feel free to "Talk the Dock!" Link us, follow us, or simply tell your friends.
-Stevie Wonder
Confession time:
I am a slob...
...On the hard.
In our dirt-home, my desk is a mess, I have a stack of books teetering on my bedside table, and the floor of my car is carpeted with receipts, napkins and bagel wrappers... straight-up Oscar Madison.
... All of which I cannot stand onboard. When I step onto the Dock, I turn into a compulsive neatnik. Everything on our boats has a place, and if it doesn't have a place then a) it leaves the boat in shame or b) I build a place for it, and then that thing had better be in it's damn place, dammit! I become Felix Unger in Topsiders.
(Hey, I think I may have discovered a new psychological ailment- Nautical Unger-Madison Disorder. I wonder if I can get a grant to do a long-term study?)
Therefore, it is not enough to simply have a boat in the water and sails on the spars. Nay, nay, we are not ready to sail until everything that came off the boat in the fall is loaded back onto the boat, back into it's designated spot, or the new spot created for it, or off-loaded when it is realized that it is redundant. Said redundant item will then be reloaded again as a "spare" to be off-loaded again later in the season when it is realized that is is, indeed, well and truly redundant...
... Which is usually three days before I will suddenly find a use for it. Right now. In the middle of the lake.
Maybe my nautical neatness fetish developed from a subconcious belief that lives may depend on it, but I don't think it is really that deep. Instead I think the fastidious fixation is directly related to the diminutive quarters aboard our boats. I can be a slob on the dirt, where there is the room to step around things, and I can close the door on clutter when guests arrive at stately Jones manor. Those luxuries do not exist on the Dock. The main cabin of Whiskeyjack, for example, is all of 6' wide by 6' in length. In that 36 square feet is packed a galley, a berth and a dinette that seats 3-4, the space functioning as kitchen, bar, navigation station, dining room, living room, game room, closet and kennel, often simultaneously. If one is constantly having to move items to get to other items, or if items move of their own volition when the boat leaves level, one's enjoyment of one's nautical home diminishes rapidly.
In other words, if you are going to be a slob, size matters.
Sunday dawned grey and damp, but by noon the sun had broken through and the humidity had started to climb. The grass needed mowing (again), the gardens needed weeding (again), the house could use a vaccuuming (again), but the boat needed to be rigged and loaded. I discussed it with SWMBO, and the decision was made to flip a coin. Heads we do house crap, tails we head to the Dock.
We were already gathering sailbags and cushions before the coin hit the floor.
SWMBO and I filled Lady Liberty from windshield to hatch, floor to ceiling with boatstuffs and headed to the Dock. A few hours later, with storm clouds threatening and thunder rolling in the distance, we relaxed in our squared away surroundings.
During the last couple of rainy days, SWMBO had been toiling over a set of fitted sheets for the v-berth, and was now able to nap-test her efforts:
(btw, SWMBO has dubbed the v-berth, with her ever-apt logic, the "nap station." After all, if a boat has a nav station which is used for navigation, then shouldn't the place where one snoozes also have a moniker?)
I survey the salon and call it good.
The low-buck spice rack has been repurposed as a low-buck binoc rack, and needs to be installed, but as the cabin stands now, nothing is going to crash from gunwale to gunwale on a 20 degree heel.
It's a fine line indeed between "cramped" and "cozy," but I think we're staying on the right side of it.
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