I started a new job in mid-May, and I like it very much. But, I didn’t think about not having any vacation time accrued for summer, and summer here is fleeting, so my opportunities for sailing this summer have been curtailed. When I’ve time, the wind is too strong or absent. Or it’s raining. One weekend I met up with an old school chum, and it was lovely to catch up. Himself had a surgery recently, and while he’s mending, he can’t sail. So, that leaves me to single hand or go with friends.
It’s been mostly single handing, which is okay because I can learn more. But there’ve been times where I wasn’t quite sure to go because the wind was at the edge of where I feel comfortable. I’ve found that where I am at the moment in my sailing life, that 20 knots is about as much wind as I want. More than that makes things a bit too scary for me. I think my boat can handle 20 knots all right, and even 25 knots, if I want to sail with just the jib or consider putting a reef in the mainsail. Or, if I go with someone who knows a bit more than I do, then 25 knots could be doable.
Anyhow, between starting the new job and getting acclimated to that, it’s somehow become the middle of August. Summer has galloped along, and I asked SFB once again if he’d like to go sailing. Every other time I’ve asked, he’s been busy doing other things, family birthdays or get-togethers, and he’s been helping out at a kids’ camp near his house. This last time, when I asked, he said, “You know, I can’t quite believe it’s the middle of August. If I don’t say ‘yes’ now, the next time you ask, it’ll be to ask me to help you take your boat out of the water!” And for a wonder, he didn’t have any activities planned, so we went sailing on Saturday.
He insisted on rowing the dinghy, tried out my new-to-me oars, which are longer than the ones I got initially. SFB and Chuck, the clerk at the marine store thought that 5.5 ft oars would be good for me. They determined that taking my height into consideration, and though they didn’t say it, the fact that I was female. I was thinking longer oars, like 6.5 ft better. But, I took their suggestion since they have lots more experience than I do. This year, I twice was blown around trying to row back to the float where I keep my dinghy. I just couldn’t get enough oomph with the shorter oars. I decided to get longer ones, found a pair of used 6.5 ft ones, and tried them out two weekends ago. Perfect. Yes, they’re heavier, but they also fit my dinghy better because she’s wide. Small in length, but wide. I should have had 6.5 ft all along, and I’ve no doubt had I been male, the guys would have said at least 6 ft oars if not 6.5 ft oars. Now, I can sit and stew about it or I can remind myself that just because someone has loads of experience doesn’t mean he’ll be right in every instance. I really was unsure what size would be best, but if I had stuck to my inner voice, I’d have gone at least 6 ft. Lesson learned.
Once we got out to Retrouvé, SFB waited for me to tell him what to do and wanted me to do what I typically do. He did start up the engine, which did not get balky at all, he helped with removing the sail stops from the mainsail after asking if I were going to raise the main before I left the mooring (yes, I do do that, I don’t mind raising the jib underway, but I want the main up when I single hand). I went forward to cast us off the mooring, SFB was at the helm. I went aft when that was done, and we sailed for several hours.
It was a beautiful day, nice wind, some sun and some clouds, and SFB stayed on the helm. I was fine with that, and about a third of the way through, I really watched SFB. He became one with the boat, eye constantly looking ahead and put Retrouvé through her paces. He wanted to see what she’d do and how she handled. His eyes are a striking blue, and as he was fully engaged at the helm, they became a really saturated blue. We tacked a few times, he answered my question about backing a sail (he did it very easily and showed me how the wind went to the backside of the jib, forcing the bow to turn), and I went forward a few times to untangle the telltale or adjust a fender.
But clearly, for much of the sail, he was simply enjoying the feel of the tiller in his hand and watching what the boat would do, quite oblivious to anything except the boat, the sea, and watching as he navigated. I felt her respond differently, and it were as if she sighed with relief and said, “Someone at the tiller who knows—really knows—what to do.”
She seemed eager to please and very happy to be out and about. I silently apologized to her, letting her know that I was doing my best. Perhaps if I had the summer off, I could become a more competent sailor a bit faster. But for now, I had to be content with slow improvements, and I thanked her for being patient with me.
I was reminded of when I’ve heard new fifers play. You can often tell what tune they’re playing, it’s recognizable, and you can see that the new musician is in earnest. But it doesn’t have the same depth of when someone more experienced plays it. And, there is no shortcut for that experience, that wealth of knowledge and hundreds of hours of playing time that come after a while. And so it is with the boat. I’m still learning, I don’t have 60+ years of sailing experience in my hands, but I’m getting there as quickly as I’m able.
In the four or so hours we were sailing, other than explaining about backing the jib, or asking if he saw the lobster buoy or small boat that was partially obscured by the jib, I don’t think we exchanged 20 words.
It was glorious, to be enjoying the sea, the breeze, and not feel any pressure for small talk. As we sailed back to the mooring, I lowered and stowed the jib, handed it to SFB who put it below and handed me the boat hook so I could pick up the mooring line.
He was tired, but happy, and looked 10 years younger. I was happy, too, as being out on the water feeds my soul as nothing else does.
I had mentioned a mutual acquaintance having a new-to-him Friendship sloop, at the other end of the harbor, so we went down afterwards to see her. She was moved from where I’d first seen her to a mooring. Had we known, we could have sailed up to her. Maybe next time.
Rain spat on and off for much of Sunday, so I stayed home and attended to housework. Today would have been a delightful sailing day, but work calls. It feeds my boat habit, so I’m not complaining. I just hope the weekend has nice weather like this, too.
Showing posts with label boat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boat. Show all posts
Monday, August 18, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
When the student is ready at some level, the lesson appears...
I didn't sleep well last night, in part because i fell asleep late afternoon/early evening on the sofa, and awoke with a start about 2 hours later. So, when it was time for bed, i wasn't all that sleepy, and i ended up with an abcessed tooth, so that plagued me much of the night.
Rang the dental office this morning, the prerecorded message gave the usual business hours and then each dentist's cell phone number if it were an emergency. Well, i still had a pulse, so was it really an emergency? Still, involuntarily moaning and groaning because of pain and crying was not normal for me. Even Phoebe started purring and walked on me at one point, trying to make it all better.
I dialled the phone number for dentist i usually see, and she answered quickly. I told her what i could, she guessed i had an abcess and would call in a prescription for me, any drug allergies? Well, truth be told, i've had very few prescriptions in my life, one 10-day course of antibiotics in 2003 where i felt as if the life force had been sucked out of me, and the last time i had an Rx was in 2005 when i broke my leg: Tylenol 3 (acetaminaphen/paracetamol and codeine). The doc had wanted to give me Percoset but that was too strong. I took one dose and hadn't been that stoned since the 1970's.
The dentist suggested an Advil (ibuprofen) and Tylenol (acetaminophen or paracetamol, depending on which side of the Pond you reside) on their own separate schedules but overlapping so one could help the other. She's prescribe good ol' penicillin and would try to get to talk the pharmacist directly rather than leave the message on the machine, which they'd check every hour.
She assured me that the pain would gradually lessen if i followed that protocol, although it does always seem worse at night, perhaps because we don't have anything else to think about. She was out of the office Monday, but the other dentist could help, or she'd see me Tuesday.
Oh, and yes, i DID do the right thing in calling her.
I told her i felt better just talking to her, and i did.
Now, the weather here has been absolutely STELLAR, and after the long, long winter we had, i didn't want to spend such a beautiful day feeling like crap. I searched for my HSA card, which i never use, and could only find the one that expired in March. Oh, wait, they were supposed to send another, did they? and i honestly couldn't remember. Searched high and low. At least some pesky filing is now sorted as a result. I also had a few paper checks for the HSA, so i could take one of those. And my insurance card, although i couldn't remember if this was the current one. WHY don't they put a date on them?
I'm not usually this scatterbrained, but insurance stuff makes my eyes glaze over. I can wade through oodles of tax forms, banking legalese, and muncipal code, but the buck stops there. Himself is the one who's got the insurance thing down, but of course, he's not here at the moment, so there you have it.
I go with my insurance card, a paper check, and i hope the Rx is ready.
I arrive, and it is. The pharmacist looks very young, he has to get all my info since i'm a new customer. I ask questions about the Rx, with food or without? How often? And here he looks at me with a funny look. I apologize and tell him the last Rx i had was in 2005, and no offense, but i don't keep people like him very busy. He smiled and relaxed his gaze. "Not to worry, there are more than enough people taking your place," and here his smile widened a bit more.
I thanked him, he answered my questions, and then i left. There were now four people waiting, and two looked at me in disbelief. How could i not know the drill? Well, i'm medically boring, and i want to make sure i understand everything. I get to the car, look at the notes that come with Rx. It tells me among other things that penicillin is absorbed fastest in the bloodstream when i take it either an hour before or two hours after a meal. Hmm, the pharmacist said it didn't matter, some people take it with food else they get an upset stomach.
So, i got home, popped a penicillin, and started to work out my dosing schedule. Gadzooks, not the mental arithmetic i wanted to do. And i laughed at myself. Three different meds, and the Rx is for 7 days. I can suck it up for a week. I thought of some folks i know who do this every day, and not just with three meds. This one with food. That one without. This one has to be taken three hours before so as not to react with that one. I had my schedule, i did eat something about 40 minutes after the penicillin because i was hungry, and i had wanted to go sailing.
Three aspirin can put me to sleep, so i wanted to see what i felt like after taking my Advil (11:00 a.m.), penicillin (1:15 p.m.) and Tylenol (1:35 p.m.) before i took off for the boat. Other than a little relaxed, i felt all right, so i loaded up the oars, pfd (personal flotation device or life jacket), my backpack with water bottle and extra bottle of water, sunscreen, another layer if temps got cooler, cell phone in stay-dry thingie, and my portable marine radio.
As i rowed out to Retrouvé, I saw my friend who's captain of one of the schooners near my boat. She'd invited me for a lobster on her lobster cruise that evening, if i was game. I wanted to, but remembered i hadn't brought my meds, so declined her polite offer. It didn't take long to bend the jib, raise the main, and get underway; i was glad to have time for a short sail. I decided to sail through the "parking lot" part of the harbor, where i'd spent much of my first sailing season, just trying to figure things out. Winds were light and variable, and that protected cove would mean they'd be lighter still, but probably enough for me to take a spin through before working my way down the harbor. The harbor is a big one, at least to me, about two miles (3 km) long, and it's a working harbor, so that might be a nice ride for an hour or so.
I got caught in a spot where the wind died, and was waiting to catch any zephyr. I was getting closer to one of two big barges parked there, and i decided i'd start up the outboard, and motor past. I never leave the mooring without starting the outboard, and today was no exception. The wind was out of the west, and i had raised the main before casting off the mooring line. It took only several moments for me to be sailing and about a minute after to realise that although i had the engine running, it was in neutral. So, i switched it off and enjoyed sailing up the channel.
So, imagine my surprise when i pull the outboard string, and nothing happens. I was finally able to get it going, just enough to get out of the barge's way, when the engine cut out again. I recalled the steps i went through at the mooring. I had done everything i always do. So, what was different? Well, i had topped off the gas tank as it was low, and the gas can i brought was the one that's dedicated to the boat's mix of 1:100. Oh, but was it old gas in that can? Maybe. I add stabiliser in all gas i get for the mowers and boat since they all are two-stroke engines, and don't see as much use as the car or truck. ##@(*$#( ethanol in gas. But, that's a rant for another day.
I try the engine again, and it still doesn't want to turn over. Then it does, but won't stay motoring, just cuts out. I want to try again but figure i've probably flooded the engine at this point, and feel it's in my best interest to get back to the mooring. The wind has picked up a little, and i can make it back to my mooring fairly easily, if the wind keeps up. So, i make my way back, taking note of how the boats are pointing, what's the best course for me to get to my mooring, and what happens if i can't the engine to start but MUST rely on my sailing skill and caprices of the wind?
I decide i'm not going to try to start the engine again until i'm closer to the mooring. If it's going to give just a little oomph then nothing, i might need that little jolt closer to the mooring.
I think of yesterday when i sailed with a sailing friend who's a great knitter. We had a lot of fun, and motored most of the way back once inside the harbor because the wind was blowing east, or dead on our nose when we were in the channel before we turned off to the mooring. The outboard was fine, reliable, and we putted along, laughing and having a lovely time motor sailing as they say.
At least today, the wind was blowing from the northwest, so it would be fairly easy to stay in the channel, and i'd have to pick my way past a couple of boats, to port hard, head into the wind, pick up the mooring line, done.
Oh, but that second channel marker was about where i'd need to veer off and pick my way through. Looked as though the wind changed direction just a little and just past there, so go around the marker or cut before? Cutting before gave me more margin to wiggle to the mooring, so cutting before it was. And when i got there, it was at the wind shift point, and turning Retrouvé just a bit port to avoid the channel marker and make my way into the anchorage, saw me in irons. Oh, dear, and channel markers don't move for anyone. I started the motor or tried, and it spurted just a moment, enough so i could lurch forward, before it conked out. The lurch got me past the danger zone, and provided just enough oomph to catch the next zephyr. I glanced at my friend's schooner. It was full of people going on the lobster cruise that evening. I was glad for her, and from the way they stood still, i knew she was giving the safety talk she's required to give before any sail.
I turned my attention back to my mooring. Twig, my dinghy was in plain view, and Retrouvé sidled up to her. I turned port, and was a bit farther from Twig, and more importantly Twig's painter (like a lead line) that was attached to the mooring line than i thought i would be. But, close enough to reach with the boat hook. I grabbed the painter from the boat hook and walked forward to the big cleat. I wanted to see if i could figure out what was what with the motor.
I walked aft after striking the main, put my hands on my hips, and stared at the outboard. She looked as she always had. Pressed the priming bulb a few times, felt a bit more air than i usually do, and pulled the string. She started right up, purring merrily along. Tra-la-la. I shut her down after a few minutes. Maybe sediment in the line? I stowed the jib back in its bag, furled the main, tied the sail stops, covered it with the mainsail cover. Went about my usual routine of getting the boat ready to be back on her mooring.
I smiled involuntarily. I remember telling SFB that at the helm i felt i should be thinking deep, nautical thoughts, but i couldn't think of a damn thing other than that i should be thinking deep, nautical thoughts. Today, my brain took in things, like wind direction, boats that were nearby, places i'd most likely be able to sail without too much trouble (somewhat successful as i hadn't hit anyone or hurt anything), and how to sail to my mooring, safely, and without incident. I was glad and relieved to have done all that. Not the weak-in-the-knees relief i'd felt that first season, when the motor cut out was i was picking my way through the boats to my mooring, and she wouldn't start up until the last moment. And this time, the feelings of gladness were stronger than the feelings of relief. I had paid attention when those with more sailing experience had talked, and i happened to listen when they used words i could understand, and i was ready to hear the message. I had enough point of reference so what they said made sense to me. I was grateful for the teaching.
That other day, when the motor cut out inopportunely as it had, it did for seemingly no rhyme or reason. Next time out, it started up and chugged along as if nothing had ever happened.
I'll look over the manual again, to make sure i did all that i was supposed to do. I'm nearly ready for my next round of pain med #2, and about 1.5 hours from now, before i go to bed, i'll take more penicillin and pain med #1. Not quite every 6 hours, but close enough. Upon waking, which ideally will be a tad over 6 hours, i can start the pill regimen again.
The lesson appeared, and the student was capable, even if she didn't feel entirely ready. She's glad it went as well as it did.
Rang the dental office this morning, the prerecorded message gave the usual business hours and then each dentist's cell phone number if it were an emergency. Well, i still had a pulse, so was it really an emergency? Still, involuntarily moaning and groaning because of pain and crying was not normal for me. Even Phoebe started purring and walked on me at one point, trying to make it all better.
I dialled the phone number for dentist i usually see, and she answered quickly. I told her what i could, she guessed i had an abcess and would call in a prescription for me, any drug allergies? Well, truth be told, i've had very few prescriptions in my life, one 10-day course of antibiotics in 2003 where i felt as if the life force had been sucked out of me, and the last time i had an Rx was in 2005 when i broke my leg: Tylenol 3 (acetaminaphen/paracetamol and codeine). The doc had wanted to give me Percoset but that was too strong. I took one dose and hadn't been that stoned since the 1970's.
The dentist suggested an Advil (ibuprofen) and Tylenol (acetaminophen or paracetamol, depending on which side of the Pond you reside) on their own separate schedules but overlapping so one could help the other. She's prescribe good ol' penicillin and would try to get to talk the pharmacist directly rather than leave the message on the machine, which they'd check every hour.
She assured me that the pain would gradually lessen if i followed that protocol, although it does always seem worse at night, perhaps because we don't have anything else to think about. She was out of the office Monday, but the other dentist could help, or she'd see me Tuesday.
Oh, and yes, i DID do the right thing in calling her.
I told her i felt better just talking to her, and i did.
Now, the weather here has been absolutely STELLAR, and after the long, long winter we had, i didn't want to spend such a beautiful day feeling like crap. I searched for my HSA card, which i never use, and could only find the one that expired in March. Oh, wait, they were supposed to send another, did they? and i honestly couldn't remember. Searched high and low. At least some pesky filing is now sorted as a result. I also had a few paper checks for the HSA, so i could take one of those. And my insurance card, although i couldn't remember if this was the current one. WHY don't they put a date on them?
I'm not usually this scatterbrained, but insurance stuff makes my eyes glaze over. I can wade through oodles of tax forms, banking legalese, and muncipal code, but the buck stops there. Himself is the one who's got the insurance thing down, but of course, he's not here at the moment, so there you have it.
I go with my insurance card, a paper check, and i hope the Rx is ready.
I arrive, and it is. The pharmacist looks very young, he has to get all my info since i'm a new customer. I ask questions about the Rx, with food or without? How often? And here he looks at me with a funny look. I apologize and tell him the last Rx i had was in 2005, and no offense, but i don't keep people like him very busy. He smiled and relaxed his gaze. "Not to worry, there are more than enough people taking your place," and here his smile widened a bit more.
I thanked him, he answered my questions, and then i left. There were now four people waiting, and two looked at me in disbelief. How could i not know the drill? Well, i'm medically boring, and i want to make sure i understand everything. I get to the car, look at the notes that come with Rx. It tells me among other things that penicillin is absorbed fastest in the bloodstream when i take it either an hour before or two hours after a meal. Hmm, the pharmacist said it didn't matter, some people take it with food else they get an upset stomach.
So, i got home, popped a penicillin, and started to work out my dosing schedule. Gadzooks, not the mental arithmetic i wanted to do. And i laughed at myself. Three different meds, and the Rx is for 7 days. I can suck it up for a week. I thought of some folks i know who do this every day, and not just with three meds. This one with food. That one without. This one has to be taken three hours before so as not to react with that one. I had my schedule, i did eat something about 40 minutes after the penicillin because i was hungry, and i had wanted to go sailing.
Three aspirin can put me to sleep, so i wanted to see what i felt like after taking my Advil (11:00 a.m.), penicillin (1:15 p.m.) and Tylenol (1:35 p.m.) before i took off for the boat. Other than a little relaxed, i felt all right, so i loaded up the oars, pfd (personal flotation device or life jacket), my backpack with water bottle and extra bottle of water, sunscreen, another layer if temps got cooler, cell phone in stay-dry thingie, and my portable marine radio.
As i rowed out to Retrouvé, I saw my friend who's captain of one of the schooners near my boat. She'd invited me for a lobster on her lobster cruise that evening, if i was game. I wanted to, but remembered i hadn't brought my meds, so declined her polite offer. It didn't take long to bend the jib, raise the main, and get underway; i was glad to have time for a short sail. I decided to sail through the "parking lot" part of the harbor, where i'd spent much of my first sailing season, just trying to figure things out. Winds were light and variable, and that protected cove would mean they'd be lighter still, but probably enough for me to take a spin through before working my way down the harbor. The harbor is a big one, at least to me, about two miles (3 km) long, and it's a working harbor, so that might be a nice ride for an hour or so.
I got caught in a spot where the wind died, and was waiting to catch any zephyr. I was getting closer to one of two big barges parked there, and i decided i'd start up the outboard, and motor past. I never leave the mooring without starting the outboard, and today was no exception. The wind was out of the west, and i had raised the main before casting off the mooring line. It took only several moments for me to be sailing and about a minute after to realise that although i had the engine running, it was in neutral. So, i switched it off and enjoyed sailing up the channel.
So, imagine my surprise when i pull the outboard string, and nothing happens. I was finally able to get it going, just enough to get out of the barge's way, when the engine cut out again. I recalled the steps i went through at the mooring. I had done everything i always do. So, what was different? Well, i had topped off the gas tank as it was low, and the gas can i brought was the one that's dedicated to the boat's mix of 1:100. Oh, but was it old gas in that can? Maybe. I add stabiliser in all gas i get for the mowers and boat since they all are two-stroke engines, and don't see as much use as the car or truck. ##@(*$#( ethanol in gas. But, that's a rant for another day.
I try the engine again, and it still doesn't want to turn over. Then it does, but won't stay motoring, just cuts out. I want to try again but figure i've probably flooded the engine at this point, and feel it's in my best interest to get back to the mooring. The wind has picked up a little, and i can make it back to my mooring fairly easily, if the wind keeps up. So, i make my way back, taking note of how the boats are pointing, what's the best course for me to get to my mooring, and what happens if i can't the engine to start but MUST rely on my sailing skill and caprices of the wind?
I decide i'm not going to try to start the engine again until i'm closer to the mooring. If it's going to give just a little oomph then nothing, i might need that little jolt closer to the mooring.
I think of yesterday when i sailed with a sailing friend who's a great knitter. We had a lot of fun, and motored most of the way back once inside the harbor because the wind was blowing east, or dead on our nose when we were in the channel before we turned off to the mooring. The outboard was fine, reliable, and we putted along, laughing and having a lovely time motor sailing as they say.
At least today, the wind was blowing from the northwest, so it would be fairly easy to stay in the channel, and i'd have to pick my way past a couple of boats, to port hard, head into the wind, pick up the mooring line, done.
Oh, but that second channel marker was about where i'd need to veer off and pick my way through. Looked as though the wind changed direction just a little and just past there, so go around the marker or cut before? Cutting before gave me more margin to wiggle to the mooring, so cutting before it was. And when i got there, it was at the wind shift point, and turning Retrouvé just a bit port to avoid the channel marker and make my way into the anchorage, saw me in irons. Oh, dear, and channel markers don't move for anyone. I started the motor or tried, and it spurted just a moment, enough so i could lurch forward, before it conked out. The lurch got me past the danger zone, and provided just enough oomph to catch the next zephyr. I glanced at my friend's schooner. It was full of people going on the lobster cruise that evening. I was glad for her, and from the way they stood still, i knew she was giving the safety talk she's required to give before any sail.
I turned my attention back to my mooring. Twig, my dinghy was in plain view, and Retrouvé sidled up to her. I turned port, and was a bit farther from Twig, and more importantly Twig's painter (like a lead line) that was attached to the mooring line than i thought i would be. But, close enough to reach with the boat hook. I grabbed the painter from the boat hook and walked forward to the big cleat. I wanted to see if i could figure out what was what with the motor.
I walked aft after striking the main, put my hands on my hips, and stared at the outboard. She looked as she always had. Pressed the priming bulb a few times, felt a bit more air than i usually do, and pulled the string. She started right up, purring merrily along. Tra-la-la. I shut her down after a few minutes. Maybe sediment in the line? I stowed the jib back in its bag, furled the main, tied the sail stops, covered it with the mainsail cover. Went about my usual routine of getting the boat ready to be back on her mooring.
I smiled involuntarily. I remember telling SFB that at the helm i felt i should be thinking deep, nautical thoughts, but i couldn't think of a damn thing other than that i should be thinking deep, nautical thoughts. Today, my brain took in things, like wind direction, boats that were nearby, places i'd most likely be able to sail without too much trouble (somewhat successful as i hadn't hit anyone or hurt anything), and how to sail to my mooring, safely, and without incident. I was glad and relieved to have done all that. Not the weak-in-the-knees relief i'd felt that first season, when the motor cut out was i was picking my way through the boats to my mooring, and she wouldn't start up until the last moment. And this time, the feelings of gladness were stronger than the feelings of relief. I had paid attention when those with more sailing experience had talked, and i happened to listen when they used words i could understand, and i was ready to hear the message. I had enough point of reference so what they said made sense to me. I was grateful for the teaching.
That other day, when the motor cut out inopportunely as it had, it did for seemingly no rhyme or reason. Next time out, it started up and chugged along as if nothing had ever happened.
I'll look over the manual again, to make sure i did all that i was supposed to do. I'm nearly ready for my next round of pain med #2, and about 1.5 hours from now, before i go to bed, i'll take more penicillin and pain med #1. Not quite every 6 hours, but close enough. Upon waking, which ideally will be a tad over 6 hours, i can start the pill regimen again.
The lesson appeared, and the student was capable, even if she didn't feel entirely ready. She's glad it went as well as it did.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Tempus fugit
I can scarcely believe it's been nearly a month since my last blog post. I've been busy. Burned out. And every post sounded so crabby i didn't finish any of them and abandoned them in the draft folder.
Summers here are glorious but fleeting. Himself wanted to help with taking the boat out of the water at the end of the sailing season, which, because of his work schedule would mean mid-September. I had wanted to keep Retrouvé in the water until early October, as September sailing here is usually quite spectacular. SFB would also be on hand to help, and he's a fount of sailing knowledge, so i reluctantly agreed to pulling her out on 22 September.
I sailed on my friend's schooner for that week and had a good time. The trip was a bit emotionally charged, as we had Joe's ashes aboard, and on the last day, after our
6-day trip was done, we sailed out with his widow, other members of his family, and friends to commit the rest of his ashes to the sea. During the 6-day trip, we took turns sleeping with Joe (which he would have loved, and made his widow laugh when we told her we were going to do that), and on a two occasions, we released some of his ashes, one at the lobster bake we had on an uninhabited island where we shot a bit of him from a rocket launcher, and on the morning of the last day, i played "Fiddler's Green" on my fife while one of our sailing friends dumped a cup o' Joe overboard. I know it sounds disrespectful, but if you knew Joe, you'd know he would have loved it. None of us could say anything, and i had planned on playing "Fiddler's Green" through three times. The first time to gather everyone, the second so Mike could dump the cup o'Joe, and the third time, to provide a segué between the solemnity of the moment, and to return to the task at hand. But by the last few measures second time through, my tears started flowing in earnest, and i knew i wouldn't be able to get through the third time. So i stopped after the second time round, and all of us cried.
Ruth was also very much missed on that trip, but she hadn't wanted any part of her brought aboard or buried at sea. She had decided to donate her body to science, hoping it might help them discover something to help someone else down the road.
Himself decided to stay home and work on a few house projects that needed doing, although he did sail with us for Joe's official sendoff to the sea. He got a lot done and had that air of satisfaction one gets when one is able to cross off an item from the to-do list that's been there too long.
SFB's wife also came aboard the boat for the service, after the sail, there was a reception in the dock house. Joe's sister, who was slated to take his sailing hat, had worn it from the time she arrived at the shipyard until after the sail. The hat had been tied to the box containing his ashes and had also made the 6-day trip with us. She was living on the West Coast and had sailed in her younger days. She regaled me with some of her sailing stories and asked me about Retrouvé. We could see her tied up at her mooring from the dockhouse so i pointed to her, and we talked sailing for a bit.
As i circled around talking to various small groups of people, i had come full circle and talked to Cappy. She had Joe's hat hanging between her shoulder blades, and i wondered why. She saw me look at it and explained that Joe's sister said that Joe had always sailed on the East Coast. Taking his hat to the West Coast with her was wrong. His hat belonged here, and she gave it to Cappy for as long as she wants to keep it.
SFB would come home with Himself and me and stay the night at our house, since he'd help us with Retrouvé next day. SFB's wife would drive home the hour or so to their house, and had plans with their granddaughter on Sunday. Before we ate supper, SFB and i gathered the few things i hadn't yet put in the truck: extra rope to tie down the stays to the mast on the way home, an extra pfd for SFB, the cross-tree that would serve as a rest for the mast, the tie-downs we'd use around the boat.
A documentary had recently come out about a boat that had been built nearby, and the boat created a bit of a stir as it was unconventional. I wanted to see the documentary as i had moved here full-time during one of the more heated chapters and was curious to see how the filmmakers would tell the story. For the most part, i'd say they did an even-handed job. At any rate, i was able to procure a copy of the documentary, and SFB wanted to see it, so the three of us watched it.
The day had been a long one, up early for sailing (SFB and me) or house stuff (Himself), the service for Joe had been emotionally draining, and we all found ourselves pretty tired by documentary's end. I had nodded off for a part of it, but i'd seen it before, and as i own a copy, i could see it again.
Our plan was simple. We'd get up next day, maybe needing to wait a little for the last of the rain to blow through, then take Retrouvé out of the water. High tide was at 1 p.m., so getting to the boat by 11 a.m. would allow us to take advantage of the tide.
SFB was settling down in the guest room, DH and i were upstairs in our bedroom, and i fell asleep quickly. At some point, i heard SFB say, "emergency room," and Himself say to me, "I need to take SFB to the hospital." I said, "Okay," and stretched a bit. I could see Himself and SFB travelling a dark road.
About 15 minutes after that, i awoke and listened. Himself was not beside me. I was the only one in the house. It dawned that it hadn't been a dream. I really did hear SFB say, "emergency room," and Himself really did tell me he was taking SFB to the hospital. I waited for Himself to return.
SFB felt a huge pressure in his chest, and it worsened when he lay down. He has heart trouble, and he decided this seemed a bit serious as he couldn't lie down at all without feeling loads of pressure and could hardly breathe when he was supine. After telling me they were leaving, Himself had sped like a madman and got stopped by the police. Headlight and taillight out, and oh, he was speeding. Himself explained he was taking his friend to the hospital. The cop took one look at SFB and told Himself to get along, only not to drive so fast. He didn't accompany them, just turned around and walked away as Himself took off.
SFB wears contact lenses most of the time, but changes to glasses a little bit before bedtime. I hadn't recalled seeing him with his glasses on and wasn't sure exactly what time it was the last time i saw him and what time Himself had driven him to the ER. "Was SFB wearing his glasses?" i asked Himself. No, he hadn't been. Well, then, we'd need to take his contact lens stuff and glasses over. I'd drive this time as my headlights and taillights were functioning correctly. And, i didn't need to speed.
We arrived to find SFB still in the ER waiting for a room. He was reading his Kindle and wearing his glasses. We visited a while with him, and the nurse came in to talk with him. She didn't ask us to leave, and he didn't ask us to leave, so we stayed and heard her explain that they thought he was having congestive heart failure. Now SFB is not a complainer and i've never seen him afraid of anything, but i saw abject fear spread over his face. Only for an instant, and he said in a controlled voice, "My mother died from that." True, his mother died at 95 from CHF, and yes, SFB had heart trouble, but not CHF, and i could see him trying to come to grips with that. I also knew we couldn't leave him alone until he got a bit more settled. Or until his wife arrived.
Himself was nodding off and said he really needed to get home and go to bed. I was wide awake and said i'd take him home, which i did. I then returned. I remembered how frightened i'd been when i was in the hospital with my broken leg, and the blizzard made travel very difficult. The governer closed all the roads for everyone except for emergency vehicles, so i sat there alone, wondering how long my recovery would take, and if it would be a complete recovery. I didn't think i'd die, though, and while i didn't think SFB was going to die, and i couldn't do anything helpful, i could just wait with him. At least until he got a room. Or until his wife came.
The nurse came back into the ER cubicle where we were. She asked questions in a very low, soft voice. SFB has hearing loss, so i told her she'd need to speak up so he could hear. I was glad i could let her know that, because she wore a look on her face that indicated she thought he was not quite with it as his face hadn't registered any of her questions. Well, of course he didn't, you silly cow, i thought. He didn't hear you.
"So, you took Sleepyhead home?" she smiled to me, and nodded to the empty chair where Himself had been. I nodded. She left to go do something, and SFB asked what the beeping noise was. The monitor was beeping because a few of the ECG parameters were high. I could tell it bothered him, and i was explaining that a few were just over normal on the high side when Nurse returned. She saw his panicked look, went over to the monitor, and silenced the alarms. His blood pressure stats were updated every 15 minutes and he wanted me to tell him what the latest readings were.
He said that his wife might stop in. Since this wasn't the first time he'd had heart issues, she had a routine. If she could get some sleep, she'd do that for a few hours, then come in and stay all day. If she couldn't sleep, then she'd be on her way. Either way, i figured i wasn't leaving until i knew he settled down a bit and got a regular room or if she came. I just couldn't bear to leave him all alone.
Finally, they had a room ready. I carried his personal effects and once we got to the room, the new nurse who helped the first one who spoke with the low, soft voice asked me to wait in the family waiting room. He kindly got me a cup of tea, and i realized he thought i was SFB's wife. He told me things he'd tell a spouse not a friend, and i only got a word in when he went to take a breath. I explained i was simply a friend, that he was staying the night at our house to help us with taking our boat out of the water next day. That his wife lived an hour away, yes, he lived there with her, but rather than drive all the way home and back, it made more sense to stay the night with us.
And now, this.
I went into the room. SFB looked a bit better, his colouring had returned to more normal, and his breathing was a bit easier. He was a bit calmer, too, and we both relaxed. He asked what time it was. I looked at my pocket watch. It was nearly 4 a.m. He told me i ought to get home and get a few hours sleep. I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. He was right. He also looked tired, and i said he ought to do the same. I gave him a peck on the cheek and hug, tucked in his blankets a bit, and left.
Himself was sound asleep as i crawled in next to him. I felt i had been asleep for about five minutes when i opened my eyes. It was quarter to nine. I got up, ate breakfast, and looked at the rain. The last hurrah of rain the weathermen predicted was a bit more steady than a hurrah. It looked positively gloomy outside. Well, they thought things would clear off by noon. That'd put us an hour behind the time we wanted to start, but we'd still be all right.
I thought about SFB. Snippets of the hospital conversation came back. Low voice Nurse saying that he was going to be there all day Sunday and most likely Monday, too for an echocardiogram. We had taken his toiletries and meds, the latter of which the nurse did not want us to leave there, as they would dispense all his meds. He had asked for his chargers for his phone and Kindle and told me right where to find them. I heartily dislike rifling through people's things, i always feel like an invader. As i got the chargers, i realized SFB had no clothes with him. I didn't find a pair of clean underpants but i didn't look through every single thing in his bag. I did discover a small bag of dirty underwear and socks that he had worn on the sailing trip. God, had that really ended only the day before? It felt like weeks. I could wash everything in the small bag, and his jeans. I also saw two shirts he had worn on the sailing trip and washed those, too. I rarely use a dryer, always opting for a sunny day to hang things on the line, but was glad i had the dryer option available, as the rain droned on outside. By the time the dryer was finished, Himself and i had a plan. We'd pull Retrouvé ourselves. SFB had walked us through before, and we were pretty sure we knew all the steps. I was most worried about backing up the trailer down the ramp and getting the boat on board that. Himself was most worried about lowering the mast. He assured me he'd be fine with the trailer; i assured him i knew we'd be fine with lowering the mast. So, we'd do it ourselves.
I stopped by the hospital to drop off some clean underthings for SFB. His wife was there, and she had brought some clean clothes. Of course she did. And her hospital bag. As she explained, she had all too much experience with SFB, her own parents, and SFB's mom. She thanked us for getting him to the hospital so quickly and for staying with him. That she'd be glad to help us with the boat, only not today. And of course, SFB would not be able to help. Of course he wouldn't. They had brought lunch for the both of them. We discussed the plan regarding SFB's car and who would be picking it up, what to do if by the time they came for the car, we were at the boat. And i suddenly felt very much out of place. I told her if she wanted to stay at our place, she was welcome to do so. She thanked me, said she preferred her own bed, it wasn't super far away, but thanks all the same.
As i drove back home from the hospital, i notice the rain had stopped. The grey glare made me squint, and Himself had gathered a few more pieces of rope to add to the collection for tying the stays to the mast for the trip home.
We said a prayer before leaving with the trailer. Himself had guided me back to it, attached it to the truck, and checked to make sure the lights were working. He reminded me not to take corners too closely (i tend to since i'm used to driving small cars with tight turning radii) and followed me to the public landing. I had driven over one curb and wondered if i had. It was a tight left turn from one small road onto another. No harm done, as the trailer was empty, but would have been a bit nervewracking with boat on it. I got in to Himself's car--while i was dropping off clean underthings to SFB he had gone to get a new taillight and headlight--and we drove to the shipyard where we'd get in Twig, the dinghy and row out to Retrouvé. I told Himself that as i drove over the one curb, it might be best if he drove the truck and trailer home, and i'd drive his car. I know he wanted to drive it because i've only driven with a trailer once before and need more practice. But, he didn't want to belabour the point, and we've been together long enough that there are times we each know it's better to say nothing and let our spouse come to the right conclusion. Saves a lot of argument or ruffled feathers. He thought we should perhaps drive home with the boat first, unhitch the trailer, and then drive back to the shipyard and pick up his car.
It took us a bit longer than it would have with SFB because a few times, we needed to think through the sequence of what needed to come next before we acted, and it felt as if the teacher had done what he could to teach us. It was now up to his students to use the knowledge he shared from his vast stores of wisdom and find our way. But, we were able to do everything we needed to do. We did it cautiously, carefully, and without disagreement or argument. Himself needed to readjust the trailer on the ramp one time. Retrouvé balked a little the first time but the second time, she slid onto the trailer easily. When it came time to drop the mast, i told Himself how i thought we should do it. He made a brillant suggestion that was a small tweak to my plan, which i immediately sensed was the perfect thing to do. We got the mast down easily. As he was securing the cross-tree to the stern, he wanted to tie some of the rope from the cross-tree to a forward stanchion, but the rope was too short. He had two pieces that toegether would be enough. He asked if i could tie some sort of knot that wouldn't come undone. I could, and tied a carrick bend. Those mornings sitting with The Marlinspike Sailor as i ate my breakfast and played with two pieces of rope hadn't been in vain.
We checked everything. Himself is more right brained than i am, so he could get the self-feed part of the tiedowns to work perfectly, but he couldn't remember exactly how we had used them in the spring. I remembered, and we had Retrouvé ready to go. We drove a little way, then Himself got out and as SFB had done, shook the boat back and forth to make sure nothing rattled too much. Nothing had.
My job was the same as it had been in the spring. I was to look behind and alert the driver if anything looked as if it were working loose. Nothing did.
We got home, unhitched the trailer, and went to fetch Himself's car. I had told him i was supposed to go out to supper with a knitting friend who was taking the next trip on my friend's schooner. We had agreed to the dinner plans several weeks before, that felt like years before. Himself could come, and he'd never met Hope, so this would be fun. The first mate was also going to be joining us, and as all four of us could fit in the truck, we headed to a very nice Italian restaurant on the other side of town to find it...closed. We went to another eatery next town over, one that Himself and i like very much. Hope and the first mate had never been. We sat in a booth, toasted to a fine sailing season and success with retrieving Retrouvé ourselves. Our conversation wandered all over the place, and we ended up telling Hope and the first mate about SFB. They both knew him, Hope had sailed with him several times, and the first mate had only just met SFB on our 6-day trip, but had heard about him from others so knew a bit about him before he had chance to meet him. He asked when visiting hours were over. I said i thought 8:30 p.m. We had finished our meal and paid the check. It was now about 8:10. He thought we should stop by on our way back, as we went right by the hospital.
And so we did. I knew where the room was even without breadcrumbs, and SFB brightened when he saw my face. He was alone, as all family had left about an hour or so before. He suspected Himself was with me, but was surprised to see two others besides troop in as well and was quite touched to see us all.
He wanted to know how it went with Retrouvé. We told him all was well with that. He asked about the schooner, and the first mate mentioned a small job he took care of that SFB knew needed doing. Hope talked a bit about the upcoming trip and how the next time she sailed, she wanted SFB to be there, too. We stayed about 15 minutes and after hugs all around, we left, dropping off Hope and the first mate wishing them fair winds. Himself got into his car, and we both drove home.
The day felt 77 hours long. The cats greeted us warmly, and we made an early night of it.
Life. Death. Lighting Chinese lanterns one night after anchoring and calling the one i released Ruth. Spreading a cup of Joe on the sea. Doing house repairs. Taking what we learned from one more experienced and doing it ourselves. I thought of the Little Prince. How he had to leave his body behind because he was so full of knowledge and his body was simply too heavy. I thought of how comforting it would be to get back to my usual daily routine. Predictable. Boring. Not blog worthy in the least. But, oh, so very welcome.
Summers here are glorious but fleeting. Himself wanted to help with taking the boat out of the water at the end of the sailing season, which, because of his work schedule would mean mid-September. I had wanted to keep Retrouvé in the water until early October, as September sailing here is usually quite spectacular. SFB would also be on hand to help, and he's a fount of sailing knowledge, so i reluctantly agreed to pulling her out on 22 September.
I sailed on my friend's schooner for that week and had a good time. The trip was a bit emotionally charged, as we had Joe's ashes aboard, and on the last day, after our
6-day trip was done, we sailed out with his widow, other members of his family, and friends to commit the rest of his ashes to the sea. During the 6-day trip, we took turns sleeping with Joe (which he would have loved, and made his widow laugh when we told her we were going to do that), and on a two occasions, we released some of his ashes, one at the lobster bake we had on an uninhabited island where we shot a bit of him from a rocket launcher, and on the morning of the last day, i played "Fiddler's Green" on my fife while one of our sailing friends dumped a cup o' Joe overboard. I know it sounds disrespectful, but if you knew Joe, you'd know he would have loved it. None of us could say anything, and i had planned on playing "Fiddler's Green" through three times. The first time to gather everyone, the second so Mike could dump the cup o'Joe, and the third time, to provide a segué between the solemnity of the moment, and to return to the task at hand. But by the last few measures second time through, my tears started flowing in earnest, and i knew i wouldn't be able to get through the third time. So i stopped after the second time round, and all of us cried.
Ruth was also very much missed on that trip, but she hadn't wanted any part of her brought aboard or buried at sea. She had decided to donate her body to science, hoping it might help them discover something to help someone else down the road.
Himself decided to stay home and work on a few house projects that needed doing, although he did sail with us for Joe's official sendoff to the sea. He got a lot done and had that air of satisfaction one gets when one is able to cross off an item from the to-do list that's been there too long.
SFB's wife also came aboard the boat for the service, after the sail, there was a reception in the dock house. Joe's sister, who was slated to take his sailing hat, had worn it from the time she arrived at the shipyard until after the sail. The hat had been tied to the box containing his ashes and had also made the 6-day trip with us. She was living on the West Coast and had sailed in her younger days. She regaled me with some of her sailing stories and asked me about Retrouvé. We could see her tied up at her mooring from the dockhouse so i pointed to her, and we talked sailing for a bit.
As i circled around talking to various small groups of people, i had come full circle and talked to Cappy. She had Joe's hat hanging between her shoulder blades, and i wondered why. She saw me look at it and explained that Joe's sister said that Joe had always sailed on the East Coast. Taking his hat to the West Coast with her was wrong. His hat belonged here, and she gave it to Cappy for as long as she wants to keep it.
SFB would come home with Himself and me and stay the night at our house, since he'd help us with Retrouvé next day. SFB's wife would drive home the hour or so to their house, and had plans with their granddaughter on Sunday. Before we ate supper, SFB and i gathered the few things i hadn't yet put in the truck: extra rope to tie down the stays to the mast on the way home, an extra pfd for SFB, the cross-tree that would serve as a rest for the mast, the tie-downs we'd use around the boat.
A documentary had recently come out about a boat that had been built nearby, and the boat created a bit of a stir as it was unconventional. I wanted to see the documentary as i had moved here full-time during one of the more heated chapters and was curious to see how the filmmakers would tell the story. For the most part, i'd say they did an even-handed job. At any rate, i was able to procure a copy of the documentary, and SFB wanted to see it, so the three of us watched it.
The day had been a long one, up early for sailing (SFB and me) or house stuff (Himself), the service for Joe had been emotionally draining, and we all found ourselves pretty tired by documentary's end. I had nodded off for a part of it, but i'd seen it before, and as i own a copy, i could see it again.
Our plan was simple. We'd get up next day, maybe needing to wait a little for the last of the rain to blow through, then take Retrouvé out of the water. High tide was at 1 p.m., so getting to the boat by 11 a.m. would allow us to take advantage of the tide.
SFB was settling down in the guest room, DH and i were upstairs in our bedroom, and i fell asleep quickly. At some point, i heard SFB say, "emergency room," and Himself say to me, "I need to take SFB to the hospital." I said, "Okay," and stretched a bit. I could see Himself and SFB travelling a dark road.
About 15 minutes after that, i awoke and listened. Himself was not beside me. I was the only one in the house. It dawned that it hadn't been a dream. I really did hear SFB say, "emergency room," and Himself really did tell me he was taking SFB to the hospital. I waited for Himself to return.
SFB felt a huge pressure in his chest, and it worsened when he lay down. He has heart trouble, and he decided this seemed a bit serious as he couldn't lie down at all without feeling loads of pressure and could hardly breathe when he was supine. After telling me they were leaving, Himself had sped like a madman and got stopped by the police. Headlight and taillight out, and oh, he was speeding. Himself explained he was taking his friend to the hospital. The cop took one look at SFB and told Himself to get along, only not to drive so fast. He didn't accompany them, just turned around and walked away as Himself took off.
SFB wears contact lenses most of the time, but changes to glasses a little bit before bedtime. I hadn't recalled seeing him with his glasses on and wasn't sure exactly what time it was the last time i saw him and what time Himself had driven him to the ER. "Was SFB wearing his glasses?" i asked Himself. No, he hadn't been. Well, then, we'd need to take his contact lens stuff and glasses over. I'd drive this time as my headlights and taillights were functioning correctly. And, i didn't need to speed.
We arrived to find SFB still in the ER waiting for a room. He was reading his Kindle and wearing his glasses. We visited a while with him, and the nurse came in to talk with him. She didn't ask us to leave, and he didn't ask us to leave, so we stayed and heard her explain that they thought he was having congestive heart failure. Now SFB is not a complainer and i've never seen him afraid of anything, but i saw abject fear spread over his face. Only for an instant, and he said in a controlled voice, "My mother died from that." True, his mother died at 95 from CHF, and yes, SFB had heart trouble, but not CHF, and i could see him trying to come to grips with that. I also knew we couldn't leave him alone until he got a bit more settled. Or until his wife arrived.
Himself was nodding off and said he really needed to get home and go to bed. I was wide awake and said i'd take him home, which i did. I then returned. I remembered how frightened i'd been when i was in the hospital with my broken leg, and the blizzard made travel very difficult. The governer closed all the roads for everyone except for emergency vehicles, so i sat there alone, wondering how long my recovery would take, and if it would be a complete recovery. I didn't think i'd die, though, and while i didn't think SFB was going to die, and i couldn't do anything helpful, i could just wait with him. At least until he got a room. Or until his wife came.
The nurse came back into the ER cubicle where we were. She asked questions in a very low, soft voice. SFB has hearing loss, so i told her she'd need to speak up so he could hear. I was glad i could let her know that, because she wore a look on her face that indicated she thought he was not quite with it as his face hadn't registered any of her questions. Well, of course he didn't, you silly cow, i thought. He didn't hear you.
"So, you took Sleepyhead home?" she smiled to me, and nodded to the empty chair where Himself had been. I nodded. She left to go do something, and SFB asked what the beeping noise was. The monitor was beeping because a few of the ECG parameters were high. I could tell it bothered him, and i was explaining that a few were just over normal on the high side when Nurse returned. She saw his panicked look, went over to the monitor, and silenced the alarms. His blood pressure stats were updated every 15 minutes and he wanted me to tell him what the latest readings were.
He said that his wife might stop in. Since this wasn't the first time he'd had heart issues, she had a routine. If she could get some sleep, she'd do that for a few hours, then come in and stay all day. If she couldn't sleep, then she'd be on her way. Either way, i figured i wasn't leaving until i knew he settled down a bit and got a regular room or if she came. I just couldn't bear to leave him all alone.
Finally, they had a room ready. I carried his personal effects and once we got to the room, the new nurse who helped the first one who spoke with the low, soft voice asked me to wait in the family waiting room. He kindly got me a cup of tea, and i realized he thought i was SFB's wife. He told me things he'd tell a spouse not a friend, and i only got a word in when he went to take a breath. I explained i was simply a friend, that he was staying the night at our house to help us with taking our boat out of the water next day. That his wife lived an hour away, yes, he lived there with her, but rather than drive all the way home and back, it made more sense to stay the night with us.
And now, this.
I went into the room. SFB looked a bit better, his colouring had returned to more normal, and his breathing was a bit easier. He was a bit calmer, too, and we both relaxed. He asked what time it was. I looked at my pocket watch. It was nearly 4 a.m. He told me i ought to get home and get a few hours sleep. I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. He was right. He also looked tired, and i said he ought to do the same. I gave him a peck on the cheek and hug, tucked in his blankets a bit, and left.
Himself was sound asleep as i crawled in next to him. I felt i had been asleep for about five minutes when i opened my eyes. It was quarter to nine. I got up, ate breakfast, and looked at the rain. The last hurrah of rain the weathermen predicted was a bit more steady than a hurrah. It looked positively gloomy outside. Well, they thought things would clear off by noon. That'd put us an hour behind the time we wanted to start, but we'd still be all right.
I thought about SFB. Snippets of the hospital conversation came back. Low voice Nurse saying that he was going to be there all day Sunday and most likely Monday, too for an echocardiogram. We had taken his toiletries and meds, the latter of which the nurse did not want us to leave there, as they would dispense all his meds. He had asked for his chargers for his phone and Kindle and told me right where to find them. I heartily dislike rifling through people's things, i always feel like an invader. As i got the chargers, i realized SFB had no clothes with him. I didn't find a pair of clean underpants but i didn't look through every single thing in his bag. I did discover a small bag of dirty underwear and socks that he had worn on the sailing trip. God, had that really ended only the day before? It felt like weeks. I could wash everything in the small bag, and his jeans. I also saw two shirts he had worn on the sailing trip and washed those, too. I rarely use a dryer, always opting for a sunny day to hang things on the line, but was glad i had the dryer option available, as the rain droned on outside. By the time the dryer was finished, Himself and i had a plan. We'd pull Retrouvé ourselves. SFB had walked us through before, and we were pretty sure we knew all the steps. I was most worried about backing up the trailer down the ramp and getting the boat on board that. Himself was most worried about lowering the mast. He assured me he'd be fine with the trailer; i assured him i knew we'd be fine with lowering the mast. So, we'd do it ourselves.
I stopped by the hospital to drop off some clean underthings for SFB. His wife was there, and she had brought some clean clothes. Of course she did. And her hospital bag. As she explained, she had all too much experience with SFB, her own parents, and SFB's mom. She thanked us for getting him to the hospital so quickly and for staying with him. That she'd be glad to help us with the boat, only not today. And of course, SFB would not be able to help. Of course he wouldn't. They had brought lunch for the both of them. We discussed the plan regarding SFB's car and who would be picking it up, what to do if by the time they came for the car, we were at the boat. And i suddenly felt very much out of place. I told her if she wanted to stay at our place, she was welcome to do so. She thanked me, said she preferred her own bed, it wasn't super far away, but thanks all the same.
As i drove back home from the hospital, i notice the rain had stopped. The grey glare made me squint, and Himself had gathered a few more pieces of rope to add to the collection for tying the stays to the mast for the trip home.
We said a prayer before leaving with the trailer. Himself had guided me back to it, attached it to the truck, and checked to make sure the lights were working. He reminded me not to take corners too closely (i tend to since i'm used to driving small cars with tight turning radii) and followed me to the public landing. I had driven over one curb and wondered if i had. It was a tight left turn from one small road onto another. No harm done, as the trailer was empty, but would have been a bit nervewracking with boat on it. I got in to Himself's car--while i was dropping off clean underthings to SFB he had gone to get a new taillight and headlight--and we drove to the shipyard where we'd get in Twig, the dinghy and row out to Retrouvé. I told Himself that as i drove over the one curb, it might be best if he drove the truck and trailer home, and i'd drive his car. I know he wanted to drive it because i've only driven with a trailer once before and need more practice. But, he didn't want to belabour the point, and we've been together long enough that there are times we each know it's better to say nothing and let our spouse come to the right conclusion. Saves a lot of argument or ruffled feathers. He thought we should perhaps drive home with the boat first, unhitch the trailer, and then drive back to the shipyard and pick up his car.
It took us a bit longer than it would have with SFB because a few times, we needed to think through the sequence of what needed to come next before we acted, and it felt as if the teacher had done what he could to teach us. It was now up to his students to use the knowledge he shared from his vast stores of wisdom and find our way. But, we were able to do everything we needed to do. We did it cautiously, carefully, and without disagreement or argument. Himself needed to readjust the trailer on the ramp one time. Retrouvé balked a little the first time but the second time, she slid onto the trailer easily. When it came time to drop the mast, i told Himself how i thought we should do it. He made a brillant suggestion that was a small tweak to my plan, which i immediately sensed was the perfect thing to do. We got the mast down easily. As he was securing the cross-tree to the stern, he wanted to tie some of the rope from the cross-tree to a forward stanchion, but the rope was too short. He had two pieces that toegether would be enough. He asked if i could tie some sort of knot that wouldn't come undone. I could, and tied a carrick bend. Those mornings sitting with The Marlinspike Sailor as i ate my breakfast and played with two pieces of rope hadn't been in vain.
We checked everything. Himself is more right brained than i am, so he could get the self-feed part of the tiedowns to work perfectly, but he couldn't remember exactly how we had used them in the spring. I remembered, and we had Retrouvé ready to go. We drove a little way, then Himself got out and as SFB had done, shook the boat back and forth to make sure nothing rattled too much. Nothing had.
My job was the same as it had been in the spring. I was to look behind and alert the driver if anything looked as if it were working loose. Nothing did.
We got home, unhitched the trailer, and went to fetch Himself's car. I had told him i was supposed to go out to supper with a knitting friend who was taking the next trip on my friend's schooner. We had agreed to the dinner plans several weeks before, that felt like years before. Himself could come, and he'd never met Hope, so this would be fun. The first mate was also going to be joining us, and as all four of us could fit in the truck, we headed to a very nice Italian restaurant on the other side of town to find it...closed. We went to another eatery next town over, one that Himself and i like very much. Hope and the first mate had never been. We sat in a booth, toasted to a fine sailing season and success with retrieving Retrouvé ourselves. Our conversation wandered all over the place, and we ended up telling Hope and the first mate about SFB. They both knew him, Hope had sailed with him several times, and the first mate had only just met SFB on our 6-day trip, but had heard about him from others so knew a bit about him before he had chance to meet him. He asked when visiting hours were over. I said i thought 8:30 p.m. We had finished our meal and paid the check. It was now about 8:10. He thought we should stop by on our way back, as we went right by the hospital.
And so we did. I knew where the room was even without breadcrumbs, and SFB brightened when he saw my face. He was alone, as all family had left about an hour or so before. He suspected Himself was with me, but was surprised to see two others besides troop in as well and was quite touched to see us all.
He wanted to know how it went with Retrouvé. We told him all was well with that. He asked about the schooner, and the first mate mentioned a small job he took care of that SFB knew needed doing. Hope talked a bit about the upcoming trip and how the next time she sailed, she wanted SFB to be there, too. We stayed about 15 minutes and after hugs all around, we left, dropping off Hope and the first mate wishing them fair winds. Himself got into his car, and we both drove home.
The day felt 77 hours long. The cats greeted us warmly, and we made an early night of it.
Life. Death. Lighting Chinese lanterns one night after anchoring and calling the one i released Ruth. Spreading a cup of Joe on the sea. Doing house repairs. Taking what we learned from one more experienced and doing it ourselves. I thought of the Little Prince. How he had to leave his body behind because he was so full of knowledge and his body was simply too heavy. I thought of how comforting it would be to get back to my usual daily routine. Predictable. Boring. Not blog worthy in the least. But, oh, so very welcome.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Tea for the tillerman--actually a tiller for this tea gal
I do look at things on Craig's List* from time to time, just to see what's out there. Most of it is either out of my price range or drek.
But, occasionally, something really grabs my attention, and i follow up either with an email or a phone call. Many times, the initial phone call or email is met with, "Sorry, that item sold." Occasionally, however, i get lucky. It's how i met my down-the-street, around-the-corner neighbour, as he was selling his boat and had listed a lot of the boat paraphanalia on Craig's List. I got a few small fenders that have come in handy for my dinghy and a wonderful portable chart table that i've yet to use "for real" on the water, but i can see that time coming soon.
And so it was a few weeks back, when SFB and i went for a sail, that he noticed my tiller needs replacing. I realized at the beginning of the sailing season that i should most likely sand off all the old varnish and start again, rather than just slap on a few more coats and call it good, and vowed i'd do that as a winter project. But, it's beyond not only another coat slap, but also the sand the varnish off as well. SFB pressed into the knob end of the tiller, and the wood is soft. Soft enough that he made a hole, showing rot quite clearly. He suggested using the tiller from the midpoint back, and it should be okay for the last bit of this sailing season.
I decided to take a look and see if i could find a replacement. The shop that made the original one closed up earlier this year after its owner died. Remaining stock was scooped up by several marine outfitters, some charging a bit more than the original owner, and some charging an arm and a leg more. I thought of asking our neighbour up the street, the one who loves woodworking and car projects, if he'd consider making me a new tiller from the huge branch that fell off the old maple tree out front. There's still the fattest part of the branch that we didn't cut up, and that might do. It would be neat to have a new tiller from an old stalwart. Himself had the same idea, about asking Mr Woodworker up the street, but he hadn't thought of using the branch. He liked that idea.
Mr Woodworker is one of those nice chaps who'll say yes, even if he doesn't really want to do something, if he sees you clearly need the help. And, i don't want him to have to feel he must say yes, so i'm mulling over how to ask. I want him to say yes because he'd like to do it, but because he feels compelled. Or is that impelled? Well, you get my drift.
I looked at Craig's List last evening, just to see if anybody had a tiller that might do the trick. Turns out, one looked a bit promising. I called, the man kindly measured it for me, and the length sounded about right. A little long, which was fine by me, as we could always cut off an inch or two. He advertised the price of one dollar and said in the description to make an offer.
I'd seen other such listings where i guess they have to put some price, so they put in a really small one. If this one were actually not rotten, i could see where it could get him a few bucks. I checked ebay. Used tillers between $50 and $150. Some of the new ones i saw online were in the $120 range. I decided in my mind that my top offer would be $25.
He gave me his address, asked if i knew where it was, as it was about an hour away from me. I didn't, although i knew the main street in the town, and i could use mapquest to get directions. We agreed to meet at 5 pm today. I printed out the directions.
I ended up having some last minute work things to do, so i was late in getting underway. I called, apologized for the tardy start and said that i'd be there closer to 5:30, would that be all right? Turns out it was and worked out better for them, he said, as they had a to run an errand.
I arrived just before 5:30. I saw a "For Sale by Owner" sign, and in the garage were a number of items that had either been in a yard (boot) sale or were being prepared for one. As the garage door was up, i walked in and knocked on the door leading to inside the house. Most people i know use their front doors only as emergency exits. An older man answered, i introduced myself, and he bade me to go around to the front door. There on the shady porch was the rudder and tiller. I had thought to bring my measuring tape. Yep, a few inches longer, and a skinnier than the tiller on Retrouvé, but it'd work all right. The hardware attaching it to the rudder was in good shape, although i have no use for it. Definitely worth the $25, i thought.
I told the man i thought it'd meet my needs. He asked my offer and i said, "Twenty-five dollars."
"Oh, no," he said, and i braced myself for him to say he wanted fifty. "That's too much money."
I'm sure i did a double-take. "Um, okay. Fifteen?"
"No, still too high. How about ten?"
"Ten? Ten's fine by me," i said, and i gladly handed him a ten dollar bill.
"After all, you came all this way," he said and smiled.
It's all relative, i suppose. I told him i had a friend who lived about halfway between us, and i'd stop for a quick visit on the way back home. So, worth the trip.
He smiled and handed me a new book he wanted me to read about real hope. How if i were interested at all in religion, i'd be glad to read this book. I thanked him and accepted the book. I said how we could all use some real hope. I have my own ideas about religion, will discuss it when asked, but i find that i can say more about my religion by the example i set than by any words i can say.
I drove back, and the friend i visited on the way back was SFB. He and his wife both looked at the new-to-me tiller. SFB mentioned how the hardware was nice and could easily fetch what i paid at the marine consignment store. His wife and i discussed our recent Scrabble games on Facebook. The last game we played against one another, she was almost assured a victory, but in my last move, i bingoed (used all 7 letters) and used a triple word score, to add 92 points to my score, pull ahead, and win.
Work is going at a frenetic pace, and i was having a bit of a frazzled day, but the drive on a late summer's day was a nice one, the tiller will be a durable stand-in for quite some time, and i was able to have a nice visit with friends.
Well, my tea is finished, it's late in my corner of the world, and i'm glad to be ending this blue moon day on such a happy note.
*Craig's List is an online bulletin board of sorts where people more or less local to you are selling or wishing to trade all kinds of stuff.
But, occasionally, something really grabs my attention, and i follow up either with an email or a phone call. Many times, the initial phone call or email is met with, "Sorry, that item sold." Occasionally, however, i get lucky. It's how i met my down-the-street, around-the-corner neighbour, as he was selling his boat and had listed a lot of the boat paraphanalia on Craig's List. I got a few small fenders that have come in handy for my dinghy and a wonderful portable chart table that i've yet to use "for real" on the water, but i can see that time coming soon.
And so it was a few weeks back, when SFB and i went for a sail, that he noticed my tiller needs replacing. I realized at the beginning of the sailing season that i should most likely sand off all the old varnish and start again, rather than just slap on a few more coats and call it good, and vowed i'd do that as a winter project. But, it's beyond not only another coat slap, but also the sand the varnish off as well. SFB pressed into the knob end of the tiller, and the wood is soft. Soft enough that he made a hole, showing rot quite clearly. He suggested using the tiller from the midpoint back, and it should be okay for the last bit of this sailing season.
I decided to take a look and see if i could find a replacement. The shop that made the original one closed up earlier this year after its owner died. Remaining stock was scooped up by several marine outfitters, some charging a bit more than the original owner, and some charging an arm and a leg more. I thought of asking our neighbour up the street, the one who loves woodworking and car projects, if he'd consider making me a new tiller from the huge branch that fell off the old maple tree out front. There's still the fattest part of the branch that we didn't cut up, and that might do. It would be neat to have a new tiller from an old stalwart. Himself had the same idea, about asking Mr Woodworker up the street, but he hadn't thought of using the branch. He liked that idea.
Mr Woodworker is one of those nice chaps who'll say yes, even if he doesn't really want to do something, if he sees you clearly need the help. And, i don't want him to have to feel he must say yes, so i'm mulling over how to ask. I want him to say yes because he'd like to do it, but because he feels compelled. Or is that impelled? Well, you get my drift.
I looked at Craig's List last evening, just to see if anybody had a tiller that might do the trick. Turns out, one looked a bit promising. I called, the man kindly measured it for me, and the length sounded about right. A little long, which was fine by me, as we could always cut off an inch or two. He advertised the price of one dollar and said in the description to make an offer.
I'd seen other such listings where i guess they have to put some price, so they put in a really small one. If this one were actually not rotten, i could see where it could get him a few bucks. I checked ebay. Used tillers between $50 and $150. Some of the new ones i saw online were in the $120 range. I decided in my mind that my top offer would be $25.
He gave me his address, asked if i knew where it was, as it was about an hour away from me. I didn't, although i knew the main street in the town, and i could use mapquest to get directions. We agreed to meet at 5 pm today. I printed out the directions.
I ended up having some last minute work things to do, so i was late in getting underway. I called, apologized for the tardy start and said that i'd be there closer to 5:30, would that be all right? Turns out it was and worked out better for them, he said, as they had a to run an errand.
I arrived just before 5:30. I saw a "For Sale by Owner" sign, and in the garage were a number of items that had either been in a yard (boot) sale or were being prepared for one. As the garage door was up, i walked in and knocked on the door leading to inside the house. Most people i know use their front doors only as emergency exits. An older man answered, i introduced myself, and he bade me to go around to the front door. There on the shady porch was the rudder and tiller. I had thought to bring my measuring tape. Yep, a few inches longer, and a skinnier than the tiller on Retrouvé, but it'd work all right. The hardware attaching it to the rudder was in good shape, although i have no use for it. Definitely worth the $25, i thought.
I told the man i thought it'd meet my needs. He asked my offer and i said, "Twenty-five dollars."
"Oh, no," he said, and i braced myself for him to say he wanted fifty. "That's too much money."
I'm sure i did a double-take. "Um, okay. Fifteen?"
"No, still too high. How about ten?"
"Ten? Ten's fine by me," i said, and i gladly handed him a ten dollar bill.
"After all, you came all this way," he said and smiled.
It's all relative, i suppose. I told him i had a friend who lived about halfway between us, and i'd stop for a quick visit on the way back home. So, worth the trip.
He smiled and handed me a new book he wanted me to read about real hope. How if i were interested at all in religion, i'd be glad to read this book. I thanked him and accepted the book. I said how we could all use some real hope. I have my own ideas about religion, will discuss it when asked, but i find that i can say more about my religion by the example i set than by any words i can say.
I drove back, and the friend i visited on the way back was SFB. He and his wife both looked at the new-to-me tiller. SFB mentioned how the hardware was nice and could easily fetch what i paid at the marine consignment store. His wife and i discussed our recent Scrabble games on Facebook. The last game we played against one another, she was almost assured a victory, but in my last move, i bingoed (used all 7 letters) and used a triple word score, to add 92 points to my score, pull ahead, and win.
Work is going at a frenetic pace, and i was having a bit of a frazzled day, but the drive on a late summer's day was a nice one, the tiller will be a durable stand-in for quite some time, and i was able to have a nice visit with friends.
Well, my tea is finished, it's late in my corner of the world, and i'm glad to be ending this blue moon day on such a happy note.
*Craig's List is an online bulletin board of sorts where people more or less local to you are selling or wishing to trade all kinds of stuff.
Monday, July 9, 2012
To Boat-Abbreviated First Season
Himself was available the weekend Launch Day, so we christened the boat then, as i had changed her name. I felt the boat wanted to be called something different--non boat owners will think that sounds daft, but boat owners won't laugh. Some won't buy a boat if they don't like the name because they have to go through a special ceremony to rename the boat. And no, i didn't do that with AS. But i thought it best to do it with Himself. And so we did. Her new name had come to me when i was trying to figure out a name that would show that she had been out of commission for awhile, but now was back. Lost then found. Relaunched. Rediscovered.
And then the name jumped out at me. Retrouvé. French for "found again."
We did christen her...
only to find out that the guys who stepped the mast hadn't done the job completely. A neighbouring boater told us and helped us to lower the mast, tighten the tangs on the spreaders so the stays would stay in place, and put on the spreader boots. So we learned a lot that day, thanked our boating neighbour, and finally were able to go for a sail.
Two weeks later, a hurricane was making its way up the coast. Since we had just paid to have her put in, i didn't want to pay again to take her out then drop her back in. I decided we were going to take our chances, and i battened down the hatches wrapped the mooring line in bubble wrap, and prayed. The hurricane just missed us and went a surprising degree westward.
We kept her in until mid-October, and i was still unsure if we should keep her. Himself and a few others thought giving it a proper sailing season rather than such an abbreviated one to decide was best.
And then the name jumped out at me. Retrouvé. French for "found again."
We did christen her...
only to find out that the guys who stepped the mast hadn't done the job completely. A neighbouring boater told us and helped us to lower the mast, tighten the tangs on the spreaders so the stays would stay in place, and put on the spreader boots. So we learned a lot that day, thanked our boating neighbour, and finally were able to go for a sail.
Two weeks later, a hurricane was making its way up the coast. Since we had just paid to have her put in, i didn't want to pay again to take her out then drop her back in. I decided we were going to take our chances, and i battened down the hatches wrapped the mooring line in bubble wrap, and prayed. The hurricane just missed us and went a surprising degree westward.
We kept her in until mid-October, and i was still unsure if we should keep her. Himself and a few others thought giving it a proper sailing season rather than such an abbreviated one to decide was best.
To Boat--Launch Day
AS (previous owner) offered to help and said she really wanted to be there for the launch, which did occur on 8 August. She actually had wanted to be on hand to see the boat arrive chez moi, but the hauler arrived at her place earlier than planned, so all she could do was wave good-bye to the boat and call me to let me know the boat was on its way.
I felt it was the least i could do, and she'd be a great help showing me how to put on the motor mount and have the engine attach to it.
Turned out that 17 years that had elapsed since the last time she did it took their toll. She couldn't quite remember everything, the plate she thought should have been with the motor mount wasn't, so we took one from another motor mount she had given me, and it took three trips to the hardware store to get the right bolts and a couple tools.
Still, it was exciting to see all the preparations paying off and we were launching next day, come hell or high water. I had this image of AS handing over the tiller to me and lots of smiles.
Launch day proved to be a bit different. We had a few last minute things that would take us about a half hour. The hauler was early by a quarter hour, and we needed those 15 minutes to get everything done. AS started barking orders at him--it must be said she is NOT a morning person by any stretch. I am not either, and never have been, but she made me look like a happy little lark in comparison. Anyhow, i told the hauler to ignore her as i was now the owner of the boat, and what he proposed was fine. He nodded, gave me pitying look, and quickly got to work. AS did not let up her ranting.
We arrived at the marina and waited our turn for the travel lift. While waiting, AS produced her tool kit and started securing the lifelines. We were going to step the mast, too, and i went inside the office to ask where the restroom was. On my way back to the boat after visiting the loo, i saw a few guys stepping the mast. I went back to the office to pay for the haul (for they were getting the invoice ready when i enquired for restroom directions), to find out when we were to launch, and to enquire why there were people stepping the mast. The amount i was charged was more than what i had been quoted, which irked me, although he did delete the charge for stepping the mast. Long and short of it was we were to launch around 9:30, and didn't until nearly noon. We waited and waited then all of a sudden had to hurry up, get the boat to the travel lift and hurry down, as they had an emergency that required the travel lift be used right away, and it would take some time. By then AS and i were starving, and we asked if we could use one of their docks to tie up immediately after we got in the water so we could go to lunch. Yes, we could.
I hadn't thought to switch the bilge pump on before we left. When we came back, refreshed and excited to finally get underway, i went below to see a few inches of water in the cabin. I started the bilge pump immediately. AS thought the seacock may have been left open. I hadn't touched it and hadn't thought to check it quite frankly, given all the water we had to pump out of the bilge before hauling the boat from AS's house to mine. AS blamed SFB, saying he should have known to check this. SFB had been busy helping other family members with their boat and hadn't been available to help at all. Meantime, i got the manual pump and used that to help the bilge pump. I was glad i had brought a bucket on board to make it easier to empty the water. AS was droning on, and i was getting angrier by the second. From the moment the hauler arrived she'd been ranting about what wasn't right, and i'd been subject to her diatribes for the previous day and a half as well. My patience had run out, i started to seethe. I put the anger to good use and pumped hard, getting the bucket filled in short order and repeating the process a few more times.
AS insisted that we couldn't go anywhere until we knew what was what. Someone from the marina came over and asked AS if she'd please move her boat as they were having someone come in who needed the space. AS started to provide a long drawn out answer as to why we couldn't.
This was the final straw of a terribly trying weekend for me (merely hinted at two paragraphs up but i don't wish to relive them), and i snapped. I explained that I was the owner, sorry we were docked for so long, i had wanted to clear the water out and make sure we were good to go. We were, thank you for your patience, and if the other boat could please give us three minutes to clear off, we'd appreciate it most deeply.
The woman took one look at me, nodded, started as if to say something to AS, and thinking the better of it, looked back at me and said, "All right, then. Good luck."
I smiled grimly, dumped the last bucket of water overboard, and started up the engine. AS was still remonstrating, "You can't do this, you don't know--"
"We can't stay here any longer, AS, and we should be good to go. If i'd turned on the bilge pump before we left, this wouldn't have happened, and we wouldn't have known. We are fine now, and we're leaving."
The Marina woman was pulling off the docklines and throwing them to me as i spoke. AS looked very unsure, and i told her she could disembark now if she wished. No, she didn't want to do that, so we motored away with me at the helm, which was another scary moment as i hadn't a clue what to do. Tillers work the opposite of wheels, meaning if you want to turn right and you've a wheel, you turn the wheel to the right. With a tiller, you turn to the left to go right. Now, i knew this intellectually, but i had no muscle memory of it, and i'm sure i zigged and zagged enough to make tongues wag. As if i needed to add anything else--i was sure they were wagging already as AS managed to rub nearly everyone the wrong way.
She meekly suggested that she take over at the helm since i seemed to be having a bit of trouble with the tiller and my eyesight was better than hers, so i could search for the mooring. This was the most tactful thing i had heard her say all weekend, and i readily agreed.
We finally got to the mooring, tied off, and we got into the dinghy to row ashore. I've only rowed wooden rowboats, and inflatables are a different animal. I didn't realize this, of course, until i was there in the bloody thing trying to row. AS sat on the port side and mentioned how i didn't seem to have the rowing quite down. How i didn't ram the oar down her throat i don't know, but by that point, i didn't care if the boat sank, the dinghy sank, and we had to swim. She also mentioned oh, so casually that it appeared we were taking on water so perhaps there was a leak somewhere? Yes, perhaps there was, i found myself saying glumly. Just one more thing...
Rather than feeling victorious, i wanted to crawl under the covers and stay there. I had expected some stress, but this was exponentially worse than i had calculated. It was also abundantly clear that AS really wasn't ready to turn over the tiller and somehow expected that she could just show up whenever she felt like it and go sailing. On what was now my boat. On that frustrating row back to shore, she listed everything that was not in its proper place on the boat and that i needed to put them in their proper place. And how we didn't bend the sails but should have. And why did those guys step the mast when we were perfectly capable...
We got back to my house, she collected her things and left only after saying once again how this was the worst launch she had ever experienced. I was done being nice and biting my tongue. "Well, this is my first launch, so i've nothing to compare it to," i said, "But, it's given me pause for thought. This whole boat thing might have been a huge mistake on my part. I'll give it the rest of the season and see how i feel about it."
She left after that, and was tied for being the worst houseguest. She left sodden towels lying on the carpeted floor, lights left on, and she had forgotten to pack several personal items. Oh, no. I wasn't going to play that game that i had with some ex-boyfriends who'd leave a few things at my apartment so they could have a reason to return. I bagged everything up and thought of throwing the items away. But i relented, as some of them were very nice things. She was sailing on a friend's boat in a few weeks, and i could simply leave the items with her, which i did.
I might not have paid much money for this boat, but make no mistake. I did pay.
To Boat-Inital Preparations
This is a continuation of the boat story started here and continued here.
June 2011, and i now have a boat in my driveway. I realize i don't know very much and am a bit overwhelmed. Since the boat sat unused for so long, i cleaned her. And cleaned. And cleaned. There was quite a bit of mould in her cabin, and while i was waiting for others who knew more who'd said they'd help me, i figured i'd clean.
Himself was still away, and the people who said they'd help didn't. I don't think they meant to drop the ball or leave me hanging, but life happens, and each of them got very busy with other things. The cloud had a silver lining, as i got chance to become better aquainted with my up-the-street neighbours. The wife suggested that her husband do the wiring for me, since he's a marine electrician. (I had mentioned to her how i wanted to have the rewiring done.) The husband was glad to do it, charged me less than he should have as he helped me with some other repairs, too, and told me i could make up the difference in sailing time.
some before and after photos of the cleaning efforts:
Above is the port (left) side after I've cleaned. Below is the starboard (right) side before i've cleaned.
Above is the pointy part of the V berth, which is at the bow (front) of the boat. Below is after cleaning.
Instead of fancy boat cleaners, i used good old dish soap and bleach.
Himself helped with using a wire brush on the keel to rough up the surface a bit so then we could apply bottom (anti-fouling) paint.
After that, we applied the anti-fouling paint. Himself did most of that. This is the finished result, which pleased us both very much.
My goal was to get her in the water before the end of that sailing season, and that did indeed occur. Launch Day deserves an entry all its own.
June 2011, and i now have a boat in my driveway. I realize i don't know very much and am a bit overwhelmed. Since the boat sat unused for so long, i cleaned her. And cleaned. And cleaned. There was quite a bit of mould in her cabin, and while i was waiting for others who knew more who'd said they'd help me, i figured i'd clean.
Himself was still away, and the people who said they'd help didn't. I don't think they meant to drop the ball or leave me hanging, but life happens, and each of them got very busy with other things. The cloud had a silver lining, as i got chance to become better aquainted with my up-the-street neighbours. The wife suggested that her husband do the wiring for me, since he's a marine electrician. (I had mentioned to her how i wanted to have the rewiring done.) The husband was glad to do it, charged me less than he should have as he helped me with some other repairs, too, and told me i could make up the difference in sailing time.
some before and after photos of the cleaning efforts:
Himself helped with using a wire brush on the keel to rough up the surface a bit so then we could apply bottom (anti-fouling) paint.
After that, we applied the anti-fouling paint. Himself did most of that. This is the finished result, which pleased us both very much.
My goal was to get her in the water before the end of that sailing season, and that did indeed occur. Launch Day deserves an entry all its own.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Found the spreaders!
Thank you for all the good vibes, thoughts, and prayers. Yes, that which was lost has been found. Only they weren't lost, i simply didn't know where they were.
I was talking with Himself on the phone and said how i had looked without avail. He said that he remembered them being with the antenna for the radio, and he remembered the spreaders being grey. I had remembered them being black, but Himself has better recall with colours than i do. I knew right where the antenna was, it was in the red trunk. I remember placing it in there so it wouldn't get damaged in winter storage. I used the top tray for small items that i had aboard that i wanted to keep together and away from mice or chipmunks that insist on making their way in the barn.
After the phone call, i went to the barn, armed with a flashlight (torch) as daylight was fading, opened the trunk, removed the top tray, turned on the flashlight, saw the antenna straightaway, and next to it, two grey flattish things that i knew were the spreaders. Himself had gone to the trouble of labelling them in indelible marker, Port--Top and Starboard--Top. I smiled and turned them over. The underside was black. That's why i remembered them as being black. Because the boom and mast are both black. And, when your eye follows up the mast to the spreaders, they are also black to match the boom and mast.
I did a happy dance, thanked God repeatedly, and went back inside to call Himself with the good news.
And yes, i know i still need to continue with the boat story--i've been waylaid by real life, what with work and taking a week off to attend a friend's wedding then go sailing for several days. Then return to work to find myself extremely busy.
So, i haven't forgotten, but have some pressing things just now.
Oh, and i thought it might be best to add a photo for those who don't know what spreaders are. If you look at the mast (long pole thing in the middle of the boat, not the jib that's got the red sail stop) you see two black things intersecting that look something like a cross bar. It's not a cross bar, but each of those is attached to mast, and that is what the spreaders are. the little white things on the end of each spreader are boots.
I was talking with Himself on the phone and said how i had looked without avail. He said that he remembered them being with the antenna for the radio, and he remembered the spreaders being grey. I had remembered them being black, but Himself has better recall with colours than i do. I knew right where the antenna was, it was in the red trunk. I remember placing it in there so it wouldn't get damaged in winter storage. I used the top tray for small items that i had aboard that i wanted to keep together and away from mice or chipmunks that insist on making their way in the barn.
After the phone call, i went to the barn, armed with a flashlight (torch) as daylight was fading, opened the trunk, removed the top tray, turned on the flashlight, saw the antenna straightaway, and next to it, two grey flattish things that i knew were the spreaders. Himself had gone to the trouble of labelling them in indelible marker, Port--Top and Starboard--Top. I smiled and turned them over. The underside was black. That's why i remembered them as being black. Because the boom and mast are both black. And, when your eye follows up the mast to the spreaders, they are also black to match the boom and mast.
I did a happy dance, thanked God repeatedly, and went back inside to call Himself with the good news.
And yes, i know i still need to continue with the boat story--i've been waylaid by real life, what with work and taking a week off to attend a friend's wedding then go sailing for several days. Then return to work to find myself extremely busy.
So, i haven't forgotten, but have some pressing things just now.
Oh, and i thought it might be best to add a photo for those who don't know what spreaders are. If you look at the mast (long pole thing in the middle of the boat, not the jib that's got the red sail stop) you see two black things intersecting that look something like a cross bar. It's not a cross bar, but each of those is attached to mast, and that is what the spreaders are. the little white things on the end of each spreader are boots.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
To boat or not to boat...
For those who want the background, they can read the long post "In the beginning" if they haven't already. Otherwise, you'll find yourself in the middle of the story.
I went to the boat auction, and SFB met me there. Nothing called to me, except one boat that was bigger than the 30' (~9m) limit i had set (it was 33' [9.9m]), and the one trailer i thought perhaps suitable should AS's boat turn out to be The One wasn't what i needed, either. What was clear to me was how little i really knew.
Himself was away for an extended period and was fine with however i wanted to proceed; he liked the idea of having a boat, although knew less about them than i did, so i was glad for friends like SFB and Sailing Friend Joe (SFJ) who lent expertise or experience.
So, SFB and i drove the 70 or so miles to AS's house to see her boat. I told SFB i wasn't sure about this--it was frightening how little i knew--but he assured me i'd be all right, i knew people who knew stuff who'd be glad to help, and he thought AS's boat might be just the ticket. He also reminded me that i had been toying with this idea for at least a year, looking at some boats and all, so it seemed the idea was underway to being brought to fruition. I did ask him to let me know if the boat was crap. He said he would, and that if this boat wasn't The One, there were plenty others out there. The economy had hit a number of people very hard, so it was a buyer's market, really.
We got to AS's house and saw the boat. She had removed everything from inside the cabin as she did every year, so it was easier to clean and make ready the following sailing season. She had had it for years, and i came to understand that when she actively sailed it, she took excellent care of it. But her job then some health issues had gotten in sailing's way, and well, it was one of those things she meant to get back to but...
In short, the boat sat for 17 years. On the hard. Untouched. AS did pump it out now and again, and did cover it each year for winter until the last several. Or so.
It was a 19' (5.8m) sloop. It looked dingy and neglected, but SFB's eyes lit up when he saw it. Mine lit up, too, and i could see past the dirt. If it were sound i knew it was The One. It had a cuddy cabin that would be great for an overnight or even few days' sailing trip.
We crawled up and looked inside the cabin. Covered in mold on the inside, but SFB could see that the bones of her were all right.
I listened carefully for the inner voice, the one that's always right. The one i don't always listen to and wish i had. There was silence, but i got an image of a doorway wide open. I was at the threshold and I had the option of walking through. Or not. It was mine for the choosing.
"This is a good boat," SFB said, "Much better than i expected for one that's sat for so long." I walked through the doorway into boat ownership.
I said nothing, and we crawled down and looked at the stern.
She had no hailing port on her, which i thought was a requirement. In my boating class, they spoke about hailing ports and how it typically was where the boat was docked or moored, although it could be the owner's home address, too, if that were a different place. As i looked at her stern, she looked forlorn. And, i'd have to change the name.
Now, there's gobs written about changing a boat's name and how it should NEVER be done, or if it MUST be done, there's a special ceremony. I knew if i played a part in this boat's next chapter, the name had to change.
We went inside and discussed things. Yes, i was interested. AS was elated that someone would be sailing her again. She offered to help as she could, perhaps with how things went together, if i got stuck. My initial apprehension about dealing with an acquaintance rather than a strictly business deal seemed a tad silly just then.
We discussed price. AS said she couldn't sell her, it was like selling a member of her family. But, she'd be glad if i took her and used her well. I was in disbelief. I must have asked and said, "Are you sure? Here, let me at least pay something," six or seven times.
With each utterance, AS repeated more firmly. Nope. She was just glad someone was going to use her. I sensed a bit of relief mixed with happiness.
AS drafted a document saying that the boat was now mine. I did give her a paltry sum to please the state because i had to list an amount for the title transfer.
That was mid June, 2011. To boat or not to boat. To boat it was.
Friday, May 25, 2012
In the beginning...
I feel i must preface this before i get well and properly into the actual subject matter at hand, so get comfy, kids, top off your drinks or grab a cuppa.
For years, i've had what i call a life list. I had it well before the movie The Bucket List came out and at times it's been a written document. Other times only a mental one, perhaps making people think that i am indeed mental. So perhaps i am. But i'm happy in my world and don't harm anyone, and if my brain is burgeoning with dreams, that's my business. Unless, of course, i'm thinking of bringing the dream into reality when i might call upon a friend to help. Or husband to understand why this is vitally important, even if it's something we never really discussed.
I've done a fair amount on the list, and even now i'm still adding items, the most recent additions being hiking Offa's Dyke in Wales and knitting a gansey (guernsey or jersey), which is a particular type of sweater or jumper. Funny how English can change as we cross Ponds. One thing that stayed on the list for quite some time was learning to knit socks. Tick. Go to Alaska. Tick. Go to France. Tick. See the Grand Canyon. Tick (two ticks actually). Live with a cat or two. Tick (several ticks here, too).
An item can lie latent for many years on the list and be nearly forgotten until opportunity presents itself, when said item seems to wake up and draw my attention to it. And so it was with one latent item: a boat.
My brother got a rowboat for Christmas one year. A wooden one and a 3 hp motor so he could putter about the swamp and fish or go crabbing. I rode as a passenger, and found that i liked being in boats. I love being on the water. Even though i never knew a lot about it, i loved sailing. Himself and i have been canoeing. On one trip, we capsized three times, making us both understand that Himself really did not know how to be in the rudder position, even though he said he did, and we both thought it true. Still, no harm done, and we laughed a lot that day. Next trip out, i suggested kayaks, and we had fun with those. Enough fun that we both wanted one and now each of us does.
We've taken sailing trips as passengers and these are the sort of trips where passengers can help the crew. So, you can learn a bit, help a bit, but not really have to think as you stand and help as you are wont and the crew directs.
After moving back to the coast, i began to get a wild hair about having a boat of our own. It didn't have to be fancy or huge, but to have a little daysailer sounded very appealing. Giving it a bit more thought, i envisioned something a little bigger than a daysailer, something with a cuddy cabin would be nice, as we could do overnight trips or get out of the wet should we find ourselves suddenly in a downpour. We live near a large pond about 10 minutes down the road, and the sea is about 6 minutes away. I found myself looking at boats with more than a passing glance. Would this one suit our needs? Or that one? These thoughts weren't speaking very loudly in my head, mind you, or i most likely would have shut them off completely, but just a little nudge and, "So, what do you think about that?" sort of suggestion.
The dreamy part of me started to fantasize how this might work when the logical part of me came in. "No, no, no, no, no. This is insane. You really don't know anything about boats. Everyone you've ever known who's had one spends loads of time working on their boats. You are a mechancial retard."
So while the Dreamer was sulking in a corner, and Mrs. Logical was nodding vehemently that such thoughts are best kicked to the curb/kerb, i drove by a small boat on a trailer. It looked like the boat the Dreamer had seen. So, i pulled over to take a look. I wrote down all the information i could and realized i hadn't a clue to assess what i was looking at. Or if the asking price was too high or a bargain.
Himself was at our other house, and he knows next to nothing about boats, so i enlisted the help of two sailing friends. They gave me points to ponder, and the one volunteered to look at the boat with me. I was glad of it, as he's sailed for many years. He was Sailing Friend Bob (SFB). He thought the asking price a tad too high, and the man we asked about it said he wasn't sure he could lower the price, as it was his father-in-law's boat. He had volunteered to set the boat and trailer at his place of business because his FIL noted that there would be a lot of drive-by traffic. We thanked him, and i did some online research. This boat was a 15' West Wight Potter. Good basic boat, lots of happy trailer sailors out there. I also found out that the West Wight Potter came in a 19' model and saw the extra 4 feet made a lot of difference in the cabin. Easier to have a porta-potty or miniscule galley.
(Conversions: 15'= ~4.6m; 19'= ~5.8m; 4'= 1.2m).
I knew there'd be costs involved after we got the boat. Probably oodles of gear we'd have to buy, and then what about a mooring? Would we want to trailer it all the time? My car can't tow anything, and if Himself were going to be at the other house for a bit, well, what then? It was in the autumn, and while Dreamer wanted me to get that boat, Mrs. Logical carried the day.
"Wait and see if it's there in the spring," she said, and before Dreamer could complain that Mrs. L. was simply stalling, Mrs. L. added, "Over winter, you can see what other bits you'd need to have to go sailing with this boat. You could maybe take a boating class to learn more. And besides, you know you really want a 19' boat."
Autumn leaves gave way to winter's chill and the 15' West Wight Potter left just before the first flakes fell. Perhaps to be stored away for the winter, and i'd see it in the spring. Meantime, i started making a list of what was needed on a boat. General things like flares, first aid kit, and pfds (personal flotation devices, or as we used to call them, life preservers). What would we need for singlehanding (i.e., just one person)? What would we need for two? About the time i felt overwhelmed, i saw our local adult continuing education program offered a boating class. This would help me see what all was involved and if it seemed like wayyyyy too much. Himself was not able to take the class as he was shuttling between our two domiciles so would miss some classes. I didn't have to shuttle, so i took the class. It was taught by the local Coast Guard Auxiliary, and it covered a lot of material. It was geared more to power boats. They have a sister sailing class, but no one to teach it in my burg. That saddened me, but there's a lot of general boating info that's helpful regardless of boat type, and i'm not sorry i took the class.
Rather than enervating, it encouraged me that i, yes I could do this. I was the only one in class who didn't have a boat. Well, yes, technically i did as we owned kayaks, but not what some would say was a real boat. What i did find scary was hearing some of the people in the class mentioning they didn't know something that i thought very basic. These people already had boats and, i presumed, a lot more knowledge than i did. I presumed wrong. (If you take this class, you get a discount on boat insurance, so a few long-time boaters were there for the discount.)
Many states require that one takes this sort of boating class before one goes boating, but i live in one of those states that doesn't require it. If you have the money, you buy the boat and can sail or motor away instantly. Come to think of it, nobody ever asked me at a car dealership if i had a licence to drive. Same principle i guess. And, growing up on the coast, i could think of any number of youngsters who could row or control a boat from a very young age.
There was a test to take at the end of the course. I got 96/100, which pleased me very much. I had taken copious notes, read all the chapters, and have since considered getting the sailing text book if possible so i could read it for myself, as the motor boat one was so well written. Gave lots of pointers, for instance, on trailering boats and what to look for in trailers, checklists before you motor, and that sort of thing.
It was now very early spring, the days were growing longer, the last of the April snow showers had fallen, and i looked to see if the 15' West Wight Potter would reappear. It didn't. April turned to May, and it still didn't reappear, so someone must have bought it just before the snow came. I saw that the local Y had a huge boat sale each year in June as a fundraiser. Maybe there'd be something there. I got a list of the boats and thought SFB might be able to make suggestions. I told him i didn't feel comfortable trying to singlehand anything greater than 30' (~9m) and thought
mid-20's (7–8m) or less best. I explained that i wanted something we could singlehand, so if one of us wasn't here, the other didn't have to be stuck without a sailing partner. SFB had experienced this when his wife didn't always want to go sailing with him on their boat, and once he retired, he found many who wanted to go with him couldn't go because of work. He could and did singlehand his 41' (12.5m) ketch, although he found it more enjoyable when one or two others were on board. SFB looked over the list with me, noting which ones might be worthy of our consideration. He said that he'd be available the day of the auction, if i wanted him to accompany me and see the boats in person, but he wasn't going to be available for the preview because he'd be sailing on our friend's schooner. I appreciated any help whatsoever, and day of auction was better than naught. I could go to the preview and see if any boats spoke to me. If not then not.
The schooner of which i speak is one who takes passengers on multi-day sails during the summer, and this particular trip SFB mentioned was the first trip of its season. The schooner was built in 1886, before inboard motors were invented, so for engine power, a yawl boat is used at the schooner's stern. All cooked meals and hot water are furnished via woodstove. The cook is responsible for keeping the woodstove going, so Cookie's day starts around 4.30. The cook also has to get in the yawl when we're ready to get underway, and follow Cappy's commands. Cappy is at the helm. The mate and messmate don't have to start work until 6.30. When they do, the mate cleans the heads and swabs the deck. He also cleans off and squeegees the cabintops as meals are served up on deck. The messmate helps with getting breakfast ready, and making sure coffee, tea, and fruit is up on deck for passengers by 7.00. The messmate is responsible for making salads for lunch and dinner, helping with snack, and washing all the dishes. All crew help with the sails. The mate and messmate stay up in the bow to raise the anchor when Cappy is ready to get underway.
For several seasons as well as the summer before, SFB had often sailed on our friend's schooner as an unofficial crew member. He didn't have to get up as early as the "real" mate and messmate, nor was he expected to work as hard, but often did, and he was an immeasurable help in countless ways. I had offered both him and the cook refuge at my house, as some of the turnarounds were very short, and each lived about an hour from the schooner's home port; whereas i was about 10 minutes away. They appreciated but declined the offer, preferring instead to sleep in their own beds given the chance, although SFB did ask if he could do his laundry at my house on one tight turnaround. One of his family members had just been admitted to hospital. He put his clothes in the washer, and i shooed him out the door. I could hang them on the line when the load was done; he could run over to see his family, and when he came back to get on board, he could pick up his clothes. That same sailing season, on a week-long trip where SFB wasn't on board and i was, as a bunk was available, and i was asked to join at the last minute, the messmate took sick and had to leave a little before midway in the trip. Cappy asked me to take over as messmate, and i was glad to oblige, having held that position officially in the latter part of the 2000 sailing season. The cook and i had known each other from before and always got along well, so we had loads of fun in the galley. On the last day of the trip, Cookie slipped on the gunwale as she got into the yawl. The mate and Cappy helped her climb back up on the schooner, and while some passengers helped with making her comfortable, i cleaned up the foredeck and coiled lines. A few of the other passengers wanting to help and not knowing how followed my lead and coiled lines, too. Cookie was obviously in pain and had wrenched her back. She had been preparing brunch as was usual for the last morning on a trip. As i applied some arnica cream to her backside, i mentioned to her that i knew stuff was still on the stove, what would i need to do.
She ran through the list ticking items off her fingers, and when she was done the list, i went down below into the galley, accepting the help of a few very worried passengers who looked frenzied. It gave them something to do that would be helpful, and i was as grateful for their help as they were in having something to do.
It all ended well. The messmate was at the dock to meet the boat, feeling very much better and able to return to her messmate duties, and Cookie made a complete recovery, although she was sore for the remaining few weeks of that sailing season.
And so here we were, at the start of another sailing season. Some of the boats were starting to arrive at the Y so i could gawk. None called my name, but they weren't all there. I was in the garden, after work and hoeing weeds, when my cell phone went off. Now i almost never have my cell phone turned on, as i work from home, but thought i might get a text. The previous summer, SFB or Cookie would text me sometimes, telling me where they were sailing or after Cookie's fall, how she was feeling. Cell phone coverage is spotty in many places on the water and altogether absent in others, so calling isn't always an option. Texting works better, although that also can be delayed a bit. SFB had called the landline the day before saying he might have a lead on a boat that would be perfect. Details later, as they were heading into a dead phone zone.
I took a break from hoeing and checked my phone. The text was from SFB. He asked about the sale at the Y and if i had seen anything yet. Yes, i texted back, but nothing had called my name. Would i be interested in this boat he had heard about? Yes.
Turns out this boat belongs to a sailing acquaintance of ours. She has been sailing on our friend's schooner any number of times and on other schooners in the fleet as well. Each schooner is its own business but many belong to this fleet. I had heard her speak about her boat but it was in the very past tense, so i was surprised that she still had one. She and SFB had several conversations about it. He thought it might be just the ticket. He would go with me to look at it after the trip. Was i interested? Yes, i texted. I was.
I was also perplexed. I didn't want to forgo the auction altogether because there might be something there that would fit our needs perfectly. I also had some misgivings about doing business with this acquaintance. For one thing, i wanted it to be a business transaction. A clean handoff. I wasn't so sure this would occur with her. I was concerned that if i bought her boat from her, she'd still think of it as her boat, or that if she'd want to cut me a break on the price, she'd feel that she could then just show up to go sailing when the mood struck her, and i didn't want to be beholden. Both Mrs. Logical and Dreamer agreed it could get messy very quickly. Now, there aren't many times in my life where Mrs. Logical and Dreamer have agreed, so when it occurs, Megan sits up and takes notice. If only i could see the acquaintance's boat before the auction. Then i could see for myself if it would be worth any potential emotional difficulty and if not, move on. I prayed for next steps guidance and got silence. That meant wait and see. sigh.
My phone beeped again. SFB texted they were anchored in a nearby cove. Why didn't i go out to meet them, and discuss the boat with Acquaintance S (A.S.)?
Indeed, why didn't i? Himself was away, and my new boss was a micromanager's micromanager, so i wouldn't be able simply to take the next day off, as she wanted at least two week's notice for any fun days. Far cry from previous boss who told me to go ahead and have fun the year before when an empty bunk and last-minute invite on the schooner hadn't been a problem, as i didn't have any looming deadlines that week. But, i was done work for the day and had thought i'd garden afterwards. I figured i had two hours of daylight left. I could take my kayak in my car and drive to somewhere along the water's edge that flanked the cove and paddle out. I grabbed my backpack, loaded it with an extra layer of clothes, a few water bottles, a change of shoes (i planned on wearing boots while kayaking), my penny whistle and fife, as a delightful artist who also plays pennywhistle was aboard the schooner, and my headlamp, in case i stayed late.
I enquired at one hotel along the cove if i could park my car there and explained my purpose. The young woman was very nice, agreed that i could, but an easier place to put in was on the other side of the cove. She told me where to park, as there was a sandy layby, and it was easier navigating my way to the water's edge via a path that had a small hill at a gentler slope than what their place offered.
I thanked her and drove on, finding it exactly as described. I saw the schooner and paddled out. Everyone except Cook and Cappy were on deck, as 4.30 comes early for Cook, and Cappy was nursing a cold. The Artist, S.A., mate, and SFB recognized me. There was a bit more than an hour of daylight left. S.A. talked about her boat. She was drinking rum, i think. SFB handed me a glass of whisky. I had forgotten to pack my Scotch in my knapsack, which i prefer to whisky, but the stuff he gave me wasn't bad at all. I hadn't eaten supper, as my plan was to weed a bit in the garden then eat. They had already eaten, and there weren't many leftovers, but i had a few pieces of yummy, woodstove baked bread and a slice of chocolate cake. Even so, the whisky went to my head pretty quickly. SFB sat between me and S.A. like a broker, and i knew this was The Boat. Mrs. Logical and Dreamer both agreed on that, even though both had some foreboding about emotional fallout.
On my second large whisky, we agreed that i'd come look at the boat. SFB would come along to see if it looked like a good fit. S.A. insisted that we needed to top off our drinks and toast that. We discussed money briefly. I told her i had planned on a certain dollar amount i was prepared to spend at the auction, feeling certain that i'd need to spend more besides on getting the boat ready for the water, and that would be true whether it was a boat at auction or her boat. She asked the certain dollar amount. I told her, and she thought that was well within the boat's value and probably more than what her boat was worth in market terms. Two other times, she had nearly sold it, but both had fallen through. Third time might be a charm?
By this time, it was pretty dark. The Artist and i played our whistles and chatted a bit. I decided i needed to give myself at least an hour to allow sobriety to return so i could paddle back to my car safely and drive home legally. SFB suggested i stay the night on the schooner. I protested weakly, saying i had my headlamp and would be all right. He said that there was an empty cabin available, and the mate could wake me in the morning if i was fearful of oversleeping. I knew the cats would be fine without me for an evening, and i wasn't looking forward to lugging my kayak through a narrow path and uphill with only a headlamp's light in the dark to the way where my car was parked.
So, i stayed the night, and although i am NOT a morning person, i awake early when sleeping on a boat. It's light by 4.15 in June here, and not only was i awake, i had stripped the bunk of its sheets, put them in the pillowcase, folded the blankets neatly, repacked my backpack, and visited the head, all by 5.00. The mate was already up, cleaning the heads and swabbing the deck. I thanked him yet declined his invitation that i stay for breakfast, but would he be so kind as to help me lower my kayak, as they had stored it in one of the boats resting in the davits? (They have a rowboat and small sailboat on either side for guest and crew use. My kayak was stowed inside the rowboat.)
SFB had just come up on deck as the mate and i were getting my kayak in the water. He hugged me, and told me he thought this boat might be a perfect fit. I told him i was still going to go to the auction. They had a few trailers listed, and one might be good for this boat of S.A.'s as she mentioned she had no trailer for it. He agreed he'd look at the trailers on the day of the auction, and he'd text later to confirm the time. The mate and i hugged, and i climbed down the ladder to my kayak. Both the mate and SFB watched and waved as i waved with my paddle then turned towards shore.
I paddled back on still water and was glad i had spent the night aboard the schooner. Navigating the shore path uphill to the road with the kayak in early morning light was challenging enough. With headlamp and perhaps a bit of the tipsies it could have been akin to Cookie's slipping on the gunwale.
I made it home, put away my kayak, fed the kitties, showered, and breakfasted all by 6.30. Had a teleconference at 8.30 and looked forward to that Saturday, which was the auction.
To be continued...
For years, i've had what i call a life list. I had it well before the movie The Bucket List came out and at times it's been a written document. Other times only a mental one, perhaps making people think that i am indeed mental. So perhaps i am. But i'm happy in my world and don't harm anyone, and if my brain is burgeoning with dreams, that's my business. Unless, of course, i'm thinking of bringing the dream into reality when i might call upon a friend to help. Or husband to understand why this is vitally important, even if it's something we never really discussed.
I've done a fair amount on the list, and even now i'm still adding items, the most recent additions being hiking Offa's Dyke in Wales and knitting a gansey (guernsey or jersey), which is a particular type of sweater or jumper. Funny how English can change as we cross Ponds. One thing that stayed on the list for quite some time was learning to knit socks. Tick. Go to Alaska. Tick. Go to France. Tick. See the Grand Canyon. Tick (two ticks actually). Live with a cat or two. Tick (several ticks here, too).
An item can lie latent for many years on the list and be nearly forgotten until opportunity presents itself, when said item seems to wake up and draw my attention to it. And so it was with one latent item: a boat.
My brother got a rowboat for Christmas one year. A wooden one and a 3 hp motor so he could putter about the swamp and fish or go crabbing. I rode as a passenger, and found that i liked being in boats. I love being on the water. Even though i never knew a lot about it, i loved sailing. Himself and i have been canoeing. On one trip, we capsized three times, making us both understand that Himself really did not know how to be in the rudder position, even though he said he did, and we both thought it true. Still, no harm done, and we laughed a lot that day. Next trip out, i suggested kayaks, and we had fun with those. Enough fun that we both wanted one and now each of us does.
We've taken sailing trips as passengers and these are the sort of trips where passengers can help the crew. So, you can learn a bit, help a bit, but not really have to think as you stand and help as you are wont and the crew directs.
After moving back to the coast, i began to get a wild hair about having a boat of our own. It didn't have to be fancy or huge, but to have a little daysailer sounded very appealing. Giving it a bit more thought, i envisioned something a little bigger than a daysailer, something with a cuddy cabin would be nice, as we could do overnight trips or get out of the wet should we find ourselves suddenly in a downpour. We live near a large pond about 10 minutes down the road, and the sea is about 6 minutes away. I found myself looking at boats with more than a passing glance. Would this one suit our needs? Or that one? These thoughts weren't speaking very loudly in my head, mind you, or i most likely would have shut them off completely, but just a little nudge and, "So, what do you think about that?" sort of suggestion.
The dreamy part of me started to fantasize how this might work when the logical part of me came in. "No, no, no, no, no. This is insane. You really don't know anything about boats. Everyone you've ever known who's had one spends loads of time working on their boats. You are a mechancial retard."
So while the Dreamer was sulking in a corner, and Mrs. Logical was nodding vehemently that such thoughts are best kicked to the curb/kerb, i drove by a small boat on a trailer. It looked like the boat the Dreamer had seen. So, i pulled over to take a look. I wrote down all the information i could and realized i hadn't a clue to assess what i was looking at. Or if the asking price was too high or a bargain.
Himself was at our other house, and he knows next to nothing about boats, so i enlisted the help of two sailing friends. They gave me points to ponder, and the one volunteered to look at the boat with me. I was glad of it, as he's sailed for many years. He was Sailing Friend Bob (SFB). He thought the asking price a tad too high, and the man we asked about it said he wasn't sure he could lower the price, as it was his father-in-law's boat. He had volunteered to set the boat and trailer at his place of business because his FIL noted that there would be a lot of drive-by traffic. We thanked him, and i did some online research. This boat was a 15' West Wight Potter. Good basic boat, lots of happy trailer sailors out there. I also found out that the West Wight Potter came in a 19' model and saw the extra 4 feet made a lot of difference in the cabin. Easier to have a porta-potty or miniscule galley.
(Conversions: 15'= ~4.6m; 19'= ~5.8m; 4'= 1.2m).
I knew there'd be costs involved after we got the boat. Probably oodles of gear we'd have to buy, and then what about a mooring? Would we want to trailer it all the time? My car can't tow anything, and if Himself were going to be at the other house for a bit, well, what then? It was in the autumn, and while Dreamer wanted me to get that boat, Mrs. Logical carried the day.
"Wait and see if it's there in the spring," she said, and before Dreamer could complain that Mrs. L. was simply stalling, Mrs. L. added, "Over winter, you can see what other bits you'd need to have to go sailing with this boat. You could maybe take a boating class to learn more. And besides, you know you really want a 19' boat."
Autumn leaves gave way to winter's chill and the 15' West Wight Potter left just before the first flakes fell. Perhaps to be stored away for the winter, and i'd see it in the spring. Meantime, i started making a list of what was needed on a boat. General things like flares, first aid kit, and pfds (personal flotation devices, or as we used to call them, life preservers). What would we need for singlehanding (i.e., just one person)? What would we need for two? About the time i felt overwhelmed, i saw our local adult continuing education program offered a boating class. This would help me see what all was involved and if it seemed like wayyyyy too much. Himself was not able to take the class as he was shuttling between our two domiciles so would miss some classes. I didn't have to shuttle, so i took the class. It was taught by the local Coast Guard Auxiliary, and it covered a lot of material. It was geared more to power boats. They have a sister sailing class, but no one to teach it in my burg. That saddened me, but there's a lot of general boating info that's helpful regardless of boat type, and i'm not sorry i took the class.
Rather than enervating, it encouraged me that i, yes I could do this. I was the only one in class who didn't have a boat. Well, yes, technically i did as we owned kayaks, but not what some would say was a real boat. What i did find scary was hearing some of the people in the class mentioning they didn't know something that i thought very basic. These people already had boats and, i presumed, a lot more knowledge than i did. I presumed wrong. (If you take this class, you get a discount on boat insurance, so a few long-time boaters were there for the discount.)
Many states require that one takes this sort of boating class before one goes boating, but i live in one of those states that doesn't require it. If you have the money, you buy the boat and can sail or motor away instantly. Come to think of it, nobody ever asked me at a car dealership if i had a licence to drive. Same principle i guess. And, growing up on the coast, i could think of any number of youngsters who could row or control a boat from a very young age.
There was a test to take at the end of the course. I got 96/100, which pleased me very much. I had taken copious notes, read all the chapters, and have since considered getting the sailing text book if possible so i could read it for myself, as the motor boat one was so well written. Gave lots of pointers, for instance, on trailering boats and what to look for in trailers, checklists before you motor, and that sort of thing.
It was now very early spring, the days were growing longer, the last of the April snow showers had fallen, and i looked to see if the 15' West Wight Potter would reappear. It didn't. April turned to May, and it still didn't reappear, so someone must have bought it just before the snow came. I saw that the local Y had a huge boat sale each year in June as a fundraiser. Maybe there'd be something there. I got a list of the boats and thought SFB might be able to make suggestions. I told him i didn't feel comfortable trying to singlehand anything greater than 30' (~9m) and thought
mid-20's (7–8m) or less best. I explained that i wanted something we could singlehand, so if one of us wasn't here, the other didn't have to be stuck without a sailing partner. SFB had experienced this when his wife didn't always want to go sailing with him on their boat, and once he retired, he found many who wanted to go with him couldn't go because of work. He could and did singlehand his 41' (12.5m) ketch, although he found it more enjoyable when one or two others were on board. SFB looked over the list with me, noting which ones might be worthy of our consideration. He said that he'd be available the day of the auction, if i wanted him to accompany me and see the boats in person, but he wasn't going to be available for the preview because he'd be sailing on our friend's schooner. I appreciated any help whatsoever, and day of auction was better than naught. I could go to the preview and see if any boats spoke to me. If not then not.
The schooner of which i speak is one who takes passengers on multi-day sails during the summer, and this particular trip SFB mentioned was the first trip of its season. The schooner was built in 1886, before inboard motors were invented, so for engine power, a yawl boat is used at the schooner's stern. All cooked meals and hot water are furnished via woodstove. The cook is responsible for keeping the woodstove going, so Cookie's day starts around 4.30. The cook also has to get in the yawl when we're ready to get underway, and follow Cappy's commands. Cappy is at the helm. The mate and messmate don't have to start work until 6.30. When they do, the mate cleans the heads and swabs the deck. He also cleans off and squeegees the cabintops as meals are served up on deck. The messmate helps with getting breakfast ready, and making sure coffee, tea, and fruit is up on deck for passengers by 7.00. The messmate is responsible for making salads for lunch and dinner, helping with snack, and washing all the dishes. All crew help with the sails. The mate and messmate stay up in the bow to raise the anchor when Cappy is ready to get underway.
For several seasons as well as the summer before, SFB had often sailed on our friend's schooner as an unofficial crew member. He didn't have to get up as early as the "real" mate and messmate, nor was he expected to work as hard, but often did, and he was an immeasurable help in countless ways. I had offered both him and the cook refuge at my house, as some of the turnarounds were very short, and each lived about an hour from the schooner's home port; whereas i was about 10 minutes away. They appreciated but declined the offer, preferring instead to sleep in their own beds given the chance, although SFB did ask if he could do his laundry at my house on one tight turnaround. One of his family members had just been admitted to hospital. He put his clothes in the washer, and i shooed him out the door. I could hang them on the line when the load was done; he could run over to see his family, and when he came back to get on board, he could pick up his clothes. That same sailing season, on a week-long trip where SFB wasn't on board and i was, as a bunk was available, and i was asked to join at the last minute, the messmate took sick and had to leave a little before midway in the trip. Cappy asked me to take over as messmate, and i was glad to oblige, having held that position officially in the latter part of the 2000 sailing season. The cook and i had known each other from before and always got along well, so we had loads of fun in the galley. On the last day of the trip, Cookie slipped on the gunwale as she got into the yawl. The mate and Cappy helped her climb back up on the schooner, and while some passengers helped with making her comfortable, i cleaned up the foredeck and coiled lines. A few of the other passengers wanting to help and not knowing how followed my lead and coiled lines, too. Cookie was obviously in pain and had wrenched her back. She had been preparing brunch as was usual for the last morning on a trip. As i applied some arnica cream to her backside, i mentioned to her that i knew stuff was still on the stove, what would i need to do.
She ran through the list ticking items off her fingers, and when she was done the list, i went down below into the galley, accepting the help of a few very worried passengers who looked frenzied. It gave them something to do that would be helpful, and i was as grateful for their help as they were in having something to do.
It all ended well. The messmate was at the dock to meet the boat, feeling very much better and able to return to her messmate duties, and Cookie made a complete recovery, although she was sore for the remaining few weeks of that sailing season.
And so here we were, at the start of another sailing season. Some of the boats were starting to arrive at the Y so i could gawk. None called my name, but they weren't all there. I was in the garden, after work and hoeing weeds, when my cell phone went off. Now i almost never have my cell phone turned on, as i work from home, but thought i might get a text. The previous summer, SFB or Cookie would text me sometimes, telling me where they were sailing or after Cookie's fall, how she was feeling. Cell phone coverage is spotty in many places on the water and altogether absent in others, so calling isn't always an option. Texting works better, although that also can be delayed a bit. SFB had called the landline the day before saying he might have a lead on a boat that would be perfect. Details later, as they were heading into a dead phone zone.
I took a break from hoeing and checked my phone. The text was from SFB. He asked about the sale at the Y and if i had seen anything yet. Yes, i texted back, but nothing had called my name. Would i be interested in this boat he had heard about? Yes.
Turns out this boat belongs to a sailing acquaintance of ours. She has been sailing on our friend's schooner any number of times and on other schooners in the fleet as well. Each schooner is its own business but many belong to this fleet. I had heard her speak about her boat but it was in the very past tense, so i was surprised that she still had one. She and SFB had several conversations about it. He thought it might be just the ticket. He would go with me to look at it after the trip. Was i interested? Yes, i texted. I was.
I was also perplexed. I didn't want to forgo the auction altogether because there might be something there that would fit our needs perfectly. I also had some misgivings about doing business with this acquaintance. For one thing, i wanted it to be a business transaction. A clean handoff. I wasn't so sure this would occur with her. I was concerned that if i bought her boat from her, she'd still think of it as her boat, or that if she'd want to cut me a break on the price, she'd feel that she could then just show up to go sailing when the mood struck her, and i didn't want to be beholden. Both Mrs. Logical and Dreamer agreed it could get messy very quickly. Now, there aren't many times in my life where Mrs. Logical and Dreamer have agreed, so when it occurs, Megan sits up and takes notice. If only i could see the acquaintance's boat before the auction. Then i could see for myself if it would be worth any potential emotional difficulty and if not, move on. I prayed for next steps guidance and got silence. That meant wait and see. sigh.
My phone beeped again. SFB texted they were anchored in a nearby cove. Why didn't i go out to meet them, and discuss the boat with Acquaintance S (A.S.)?
Indeed, why didn't i? Himself was away, and my new boss was a micromanager's micromanager, so i wouldn't be able simply to take the next day off, as she wanted at least two week's notice for any fun days. Far cry from previous boss who told me to go ahead and have fun the year before when an empty bunk and last-minute invite on the schooner hadn't been a problem, as i didn't have any looming deadlines that week. But, i was done work for the day and had thought i'd garden afterwards. I figured i had two hours of daylight left. I could take my kayak in my car and drive to somewhere along the water's edge that flanked the cove and paddle out. I grabbed my backpack, loaded it with an extra layer of clothes, a few water bottles, a change of shoes (i planned on wearing boots while kayaking), my penny whistle and fife, as a delightful artist who also plays pennywhistle was aboard the schooner, and my headlamp, in case i stayed late.
I enquired at one hotel along the cove if i could park my car there and explained my purpose. The young woman was very nice, agreed that i could, but an easier place to put in was on the other side of the cove. She told me where to park, as there was a sandy layby, and it was easier navigating my way to the water's edge via a path that had a small hill at a gentler slope than what their place offered.
I thanked her and drove on, finding it exactly as described. I saw the schooner and paddled out. Everyone except Cook and Cappy were on deck, as 4.30 comes early for Cook, and Cappy was nursing a cold. The Artist, S.A., mate, and SFB recognized me. There was a bit more than an hour of daylight left. S.A. talked about her boat. She was drinking rum, i think. SFB handed me a glass of whisky. I had forgotten to pack my Scotch in my knapsack, which i prefer to whisky, but the stuff he gave me wasn't bad at all. I hadn't eaten supper, as my plan was to weed a bit in the garden then eat. They had already eaten, and there weren't many leftovers, but i had a few pieces of yummy, woodstove baked bread and a slice of chocolate cake. Even so, the whisky went to my head pretty quickly. SFB sat between me and S.A. like a broker, and i knew this was The Boat. Mrs. Logical and Dreamer both agreed on that, even though both had some foreboding about emotional fallout.
On my second large whisky, we agreed that i'd come look at the boat. SFB would come along to see if it looked like a good fit. S.A. insisted that we needed to top off our drinks and toast that. We discussed money briefly. I told her i had planned on a certain dollar amount i was prepared to spend at the auction, feeling certain that i'd need to spend more besides on getting the boat ready for the water, and that would be true whether it was a boat at auction or her boat. She asked the certain dollar amount. I told her, and she thought that was well within the boat's value and probably more than what her boat was worth in market terms. Two other times, she had nearly sold it, but both had fallen through. Third time might be a charm?
By this time, it was pretty dark. The Artist and i played our whistles and chatted a bit. I decided i needed to give myself at least an hour to allow sobriety to return so i could paddle back to my car safely and drive home legally. SFB suggested i stay the night on the schooner. I protested weakly, saying i had my headlamp and would be all right. He said that there was an empty cabin available, and the mate could wake me in the morning if i was fearful of oversleeping. I knew the cats would be fine without me for an evening, and i wasn't looking forward to lugging my kayak through a narrow path and uphill with only a headlamp's light in the dark to the way where my car was parked.
So, i stayed the night, and although i am NOT a morning person, i awake early when sleeping on a boat. It's light by 4.15 in June here, and not only was i awake, i had stripped the bunk of its sheets, put them in the pillowcase, folded the blankets neatly, repacked my backpack, and visited the head, all by 5.00. The mate was already up, cleaning the heads and swabbing the deck. I thanked him yet declined his invitation that i stay for breakfast, but would he be so kind as to help me lower my kayak, as they had stored it in one of the boats resting in the davits? (They have a rowboat and small sailboat on either side for guest and crew use. My kayak was stowed inside the rowboat.)
SFB had just come up on deck as the mate and i were getting my kayak in the water. He hugged me, and told me he thought this boat might be a perfect fit. I told him i was still going to go to the auction. They had a few trailers listed, and one might be good for this boat of S.A.'s as she mentioned she had no trailer for it. He agreed he'd look at the trailers on the day of the auction, and he'd text later to confirm the time. The mate and i hugged, and i climbed down the ladder to my kayak. Both the mate and SFB watched and waved as i waved with my paddle then turned towards shore.
I paddled back on still water and was glad i had spent the night aboard the schooner. Navigating the shore path uphill to the road with the kayak in early morning light was challenging enough. With headlamp and perhaps a bit of the tipsies it could have been akin to Cookie's slipping on the gunwale.
I made it home, put away my kayak, fed the kitties, showered, and breakfasted all by 6.30. Had a teleconference at 8.30 and looked forward to that Saturday, which was the auction.
To be continued...
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