Navigation for small sailboats

by EmilyOutfitting, Tools & TricksPosted on 3 Comments

Navigation aboard small sailboatsIf it ain’t broke don’t fix it, but what if a system can be improved? Part of the satisfaction that comes from messing about in boats is maintaining and fixing things onboard yourself. Personally I can’t wait to be arm deep in some epoxy, scraping old bits of bottom paint off, careening the aisles of hardware stores looking for the perfect screw. I’m also really excited to make improvements, which is where I think a great chunk of this supposed gratification will come from.

I can’t move aboard my boat until May, when she’s finally defrosted, and I’m currently dwelling, working, and saving money for her outfit hundreds of miles away from where she lay. While I eagerly wait for the season to be conducive I’m gathering tools, materials, and ideas for when I begin. I’ve put navigation at the top of the list (anchoring is second, but more on that later).

When I lived aboard and sailed on a 22-foot-sailboat in the Pacific Northwest for over a year, I got the lesson of a lifetime in keeping things simple, and I’ve held on to that with a fierce grip. For navigation in inland waters we used good old classic paper charts, and as our secondary system (okay, maybe it was the primary sometimes) we used a handheld GPS. It was beyond adequate.Handheld GPS for sailing navigationCharts were used for route planning and as a point of reference when sailing from point to point. The GPS was used to double check we weren’t heading straight for any rocks, were entering harbors the right way, to check speed, and sometimes to help when we were, for lack of a better word, lost, and had trouble determining which island was which.

I’ve reached out to a few sailing mates and all have had really excellent advice on what kind of equipment to use, and both recommended using a device like an Ipad and a software like Navionics, which you apparently don’t have to be connected to data in order to use.

I’m not so convinced though. In the future I want to outfit my boat with solar, but for now she runs on a 12V system that can only be charged by the alternator on the outboard engine. I like that the handheld GPS runs on disposable batteries. I like that it has a tiny screen that I can barely see, which forces me to reference my charts more often.

I’d like to update to a more modern navigation system in the future, but when I move aboard my boat everything will be new and this simple system of navigation will be familiar. I like that, too.

Liveaboard lifestyle

by EmilyBristol 24, Living AboardPosted on 10 Comments

Sailing across the Tasman SeaAh, the quintessential vision of life aboard a sailboat. A trade wind breeze, cocktail stable in hand as the boat gently heels over, a burning sunset on a beam reach to your next tropical island only 5 miles away, your lover ascending through the hatch with two plates of fresh caught fish.

Yeah….no. Life of the live aboard sailor is not easy, and many never make it to the tropics.

How about said lover jumping ship, or no lover at all? Mechanical and mental breakdowns? Rowing the dinghy in a stiff chop to get to the grocery store (’cause let’s face it, you’re not very good at fishing, or provisioning) and getting stranded onshore? Not having a trust fund, or being too young to have any kind of retirement plan, so you have to drop the hook and find a job cleaning toilets or slinging plates?

Everything corrodes, money is always tight, and moving aboard a little boat all by yourself can feel a lot like you’re sequestering yourself from society. But all of the work, repairs, and loneliness is what makes way for the great satisfaction that comes from sailing, fixing, and living aboard sailboats.

I just bought a sailboat that’s pretty far from perfect, pretty far from the ocean, my family, or any of my friends, and it’s pretty much the best decision I’ve ever made.

Bugout knife

by EmilyBristol 24, Sailboats, Tools & TricksPosted on 4 Comments

Grohmann Outdoor KnifeKnives are like sailboats, take care of them and they will take care of you. Whether you’re carving a kazoo out of drift wood, opening a package from Amazon, splicing line for your new anchor rode, foraging for a meal in the forest, warding off a Sasquatch, or simply cutting cheese, a good knife is an essential tool. To me a good knife represents thinking ahead, awareness, and the backup plan your hope you never have to use.Grohmann Outdoor KnifeThese qualities also coincide with good seamanship so it’s only fitting that every sailor has a knife, or several, aboard their vessel or in their pocket, easily accessible for that moment they need it.

My first knife was a Kershaw folding blade. Purple, small, and badass. I loved that knife, and still do. I used to cut apple slices at my desk when I worked for a newspaper, just so I could play with it. I carry it with me in my backpack wherever I go, ’cause you never know when you might need a knife. Maybe someone’s shoe lace is too long. Self-survey toolsI got a small package in the mail the other day, and of course used my pocket knife to open it. Within the confines of the box was a beautiful, shiny, sharp new knife in a leather sheath that smelt of new cowboy boots. This was not just any knife, this was a Grohmann Knife. Handmade by a small family company in Canada, these are the knives issued to members of the US Coast Guard. Sea knives.20160223-DSC_4866While my little Kershaw will always be in my pocket, my Grohmann will be tucked into its holding place just inside my boat’s cabin, close to the cockpit, and never far from reach.

A huge thanks to one of this blogs’ original fairy godfathers for gifting me this beautiful blade! 

I just bought a sailboat & I’m in way over my head

by EmilyBristol 24, SailboatsPosted on 18 Comments

Bristol 24If only fools rush in then I must be some kind of genius, ’cause I’ve been nursing this boat since November when I had a mere $900 to my name, and not a clue where I’d get together the money, or the nerve, to buy anything other than a bag of rice.

Yet somehow, with the help of my parents who allowed me to move back home to save money for the purchase, and three jobs, I’ve come up with the funds to buy, outfit and sail my very own magic carpet.

The catch? She’s buried in ice until May. Oh yeah, and I barely know how to swing a hammer.

In no way is she perfect, but such is the life of 40 year old boat. As I rushed around today negotiating, typing up a purchase agreement, contacting the DMV to see if her lack of a title was an issue, entrusting the bank to convert all of my cash into a  piece of paper, and leaving it up to pony express to deliver said check, I’ve hardly had a chance to realize what I’ve done.

I’ve just bought a sailboat, and I’m in way over my head.

So, how does it feel? Sublime; that moment in time where terror parallels delight.

“Thing about boats is, you can always sell them if you don’t like them. Can’t sell kids.” –Lin Pardey

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Adventure vs. Ordeal

by Emilyadventure travel, Boat shoppingPosted on 7 Comments

From the countryside of Quebec, to a frozen boatyard, to the lounge of a 200 year old Adirondack cabin, to my grandparent’s house, to the grimiest city in the world, and back home again–the journey to see the boat was a long one.20160216-DSC_4803It started early in the morning in sub zero temperatures as I caught the bus to New York City, to catch another bus, and then another bus. From there I did as best I could for my self-survey, but it was cold. Bitterly, bitterly cold. The wind howled through the rigging and snow drifts piled around as the wind off the water blew frozen bits in a steady direction. Before I left the boat, I sat in the port side settee, leaned against the nicely varnished ceiling boards and closed my eyes. I tried to picture warmer weather. I tried to picture myself, with all of my stuff, and my all of crazy notions, living in harmony within this little vessel. Thirty seconds later I sprung up. I had seen the light. Bristol 24 interiorThat evening I enjoyed a traditional Quebecois meal of meat pie. A few glasses of tea, and a quick performance on the squeeze box and  it was time for bed, as the next day I was meeting the surveyor in the wee hours of the morning. Luckily, the temperature was going to near 45 degrees that day. It’s damn cold in the north country this time of year. 20160215-DSC_4786
When we arrived in the boatyard the next morning, the wind had quieted and the temperature spiked. Within minutes though, the current owner (who had graciously put me up for the night and offered me a ride to the bus stop to catch home later that evening) slipped on some ice which resulted in an intense injury. He had to call it and retreated to the Canadian border.

The surveyor and I went through every inch of the boat for the next four hours. My toes were about ready to fall off, but I felt like a got an education that was worth the frost bite. When the current owner had to bail, the surveyor said he would drop me at the bus stop. The thing was, I would be stranded there until midnight! I didn’t want to fish too hard for an invite to spend the remainder of the day at his house, so I didn’t. “I’ll find a coffee shop,” I said. “Or a bar.”20160216-DSC_4807Turns out, he was heading south where he also has a home and business, so I was able to catch a ride with him to my grandparents house in the rolling mountain range a few hundred miles down the line. A quick stop at his 200 year old house that used to belong to the secretary of the great New York poet Pearl Buck, and we were on the road.

Overall, it would take him 90 miles out of his way total to drop me off there. Not only did that not matter to him, but he knocked $150 off the survey price, and we smoked cigarettes in his flash Range Rover the entire time, talking about boats. I felt like a sponge, thirsty to soak up every last bit of information I could from him during our impromptu road trip. He has thousands of sea miles, many of which were offshore.

So many people don’t take care of their boats, or take care of them wrong. In some ways, talking to the surveyor gave my confidence a boost, as I asked the right questions. It was like we both came from the same school—except he was a near zen master, and me just wee student.

Somewhere in between the highway and the back mountain roads he said to me, “Emily, I think it’s great what you are doing, and I’m really excited for you.”

“Thank you. Wow,” I said. “I’m excited to have you as a part of it.”

I’ll keep him in my proverbial rolodex for years to come.

I was at my grandparent’s house in time for dinner, where my poppy gave me lessons in the art of negotiation, and my grandma advised me to wear a life jacket.scrabbleTucked into bed with my aunties playing a rousing game of scrabble, the past 36 hours almost seemed like a dream. It had all happened so fast. The boat, the miles of road, the mountains…

360 degrees north

by EmilyBuying your first sailboat, SailingPosted on 10 Comments

Choosing a dinghy

“But I’m going to need a dinghy,” I say with a suspect tone.

“Yes, but I’m going to need one, too,” my Canadian friend replies.

So, we’re negotiating.

When I got a call this morning from the owner of the boat I’ve been slowly trying to make my own I knew that the methodical, maple-syrup like pace I’d been operating at was too good to be true.

“I’ve got a fellow from Toronto who wants to come down and buy the boat right away, sight unseen, for my full asking pricing!” He said, practically laughing with excitement.

I guess it’s true what they say, about the two happiest days in a sailor’s life. . .

But I wasn’t going to let this Canuck swoop in and spirit my boat away from right under my nose. I appreciated the forewarning, which had been delivered in good faith, but it was time to act fast.

Less than an hour later I had bus fares booked and a surveyor who understood my situation, was willing to come on such short notice and not charge me for the entire survey if we decide early on the boat’s not up to par…but I hope she will be.

I’ve written up a contract. My finances are in order. On Monday morning I will board that bus that could take me into the future. She’ll be buried under snow. She’ll surely have some deck rot. She might not even have a dinghy. But she might be mine.

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Make Sure it’s Yours

by EmilySailingPosted on Comments are Disabled

Pretending to live aboard is a lot like playing house. You cook and clean up in the tiny galley, you pee in the bucket at night and walk the dog in the morning. Despite the blackberries in full force where you poop the dog, the way the dock feels at different times of the day on your bare feet, and the way the marina bathroom always seems to feel so clean and inviting, it is not your boat, your dog, your slip or your life. 

You will not know what to do if the boat catches on fire from leaving the old batteries plugged in or from cooking on the butane camp stove. You will not feel the pangs when someone ashes their cigarette accidentally in the cockpit. Your face will not drop when someone brushes against your fresh coat of varnish.  You will never be responsible for something that isn’t yours.

Spending so much time on someone else’s boat means that everyone you meet will assume it is yours. People will start seeing you day after day and think you live there, permanently. After a certain amount of time you might just stop correcting them. You might start using terms like, “us, we, ours.” But it will never be yours.

I’ve always said it’s dangerous to be in love with the idea of someone. There’s nothing wrong with being in love with a lifestyle, but make sure it’s your lifestyle. Make sure it’s your hard work that got you on that boat. Whether it’s the prettiest boat in the harbor or the biggest hunk of shit, make sure it’s yours. Make sure it’s your story you’re telling.