sailing blog – Page 2 – Dinghy Dreams

Leaving Shangri La

by EmilyBristol 24, Living Aboard June 16, 2016June 20, 20162 Comments

I’ve got to be the luckiest sailor in the world. The marina I wound up staying at for four nights while I rested my weary eyes and waited for the bad weather to pass turned out to be some kind of Utopia.

I was introduced to Jonathen, a solo bluewater sailor who just sold his Shannon 34 and has a Cape Dory Typhoon. He was recruited to give me a sailing lesson but it was still blowing hard the morning he showed up and my inflatable dinghy was half sunk. Trying to find the hole in the bottom, which was never meant to be rowed without a plywood floor in place (oops), he said “I have a dinghy for you.” So off we went on a tour of Grand Isle, Vermont, which reminded me so much of where I learned to sail in the San Juan Islands of Washington.

While I scrubbed the old fiberglass dinghy, still going strong after it washed up on a beach 20 years ago, Jonathen rummaged around for this and that he thought I might need. He gave me two harnesses, a dry bag, a handful of lines and charts, a solar shower… The best part being that my $200 unopened sailing harness I bought could now be returned.

He gave me his contact info and told me if I ever get into trouble on the lake, to call him.

I thanked him profusely, sort of wondering why this complete complete stranger would be so inclined to help a riffraff sailor like myself.

“You’re living the dream,” he said as we waved goodbye. “Keep doing it for the rest of us.”

John the boat repair man was another character I was lucky enough to meet at my dockside Shangri-La. He knows just about everything about boats, was quick to offer me advice, swap stories, and drop what he was doing to bullshit with me just about every hour on the hour. He’s an artist when it comes to restoring old boats, has thousands of sea miles, and is basically the spitting image of Gary Busey without the the surly demeanor. He let me climb and clamber around the boats he was working on, gave me a spare winch handle and an extra fender. He let me stash my half sunk dink in his old Land Rover until my friend who I promised it to comes to get it.

Emily and Dan, the marina owners, are probably the most involved waterfront proprietors I’ve ever met. On my first night, before I could refuse, Dan came down with a power chord and said, “You need heat. But we’ll have to move you.” Next thing I knew he was untying my lines and hopped into the cockpit to do a quick, tight maneuver to another slip. When an unpredicted, near gale Easterly blew through Emily, Dan, and their daughter were on the docks the entire three hours of the storm securing boats. Emily drove me to the post office to mail my harness and we talked about feminism as the Vermont island countryside passed me by in her old station wagon.

Then there was Brian who is basically my new favorite human on the lake. He held the heads of the bolts as I tightened them to install the new mini cleats in my cockpit for the tiller tamer I was forced to buy second hand from another sailor in the yard. We went for a sail after that and I let him sail my boat, since he doesn’t have one of his own at the moment, but kept a keen eye on everything. When we saw an approaching storm we had to make a quick decision, so we booked it back to the marina and waited for it to come but it dissipated soon after. I realized when it comes to crew, the other person needs to be a sailor. At this point in my novice sailing career I can’t be responsible for teaching someone, or having someone onboard who doesn’t know how to help.

The next morning he met me to untie my lines. Full of nerves I had my worst leaving the dock experience to date. I went into forward too soon, and when I came pretty close to a shiny power boat I kicked it into reverse without throttling down, causing the prop to lift up. Dead in the water I threw Brian a line and he pulled me in. Embarrassed by the terrible job I did driving my boat he offered some kind words, a sympathetic smile, and off I went into the lake alone.

“Utopia. The Greeks had two meaning for it: ‘eu-topos’, meaning the good place, and ‘u-topos’ meaning the place that cannot be.” -Rachel Menken, Mad Men

Cutting the dock lines

by EmilyBristol 24, Sailing on a budget June 7, 20163 Comments

It’s amazing what little faith I have in simple machines, maneuvers, and mechanisms. Rather, how surprised I am when they actually work.

I corralled one of the dock boys to hold the bow line and directed my first mate Gina, who had never been sailing before three days earlier, on the stern. I had no idea how it would work. Pulling in and out of docks is my weakness. Rather then over think everything, such as where the stern will swing when I push the tiller in one direction, I just did it. The force was with me. We were off to a good start.

We reached our way across the bay in about 10 knots, but knew that it was going to get more intense when we rounded the point and were in the open fetch of Lake Champlain. The forecast predicted a consistent 10-20 knots.

I’d been staring at that pass for a month, and now I was finally cutting through it. A huge gust had us heeling hard over. I was glad I’d reefed the main at the dock and only had a small amount of headsail unfurled. The gusts were reaching nearly 25 knots.

I was scared. My friend, too. But I never showed it. I wasn’t scared in the sense that my life was in danger, rather it was an intense and uncomfortable motion of the boat. I sheeted in and tried to point up a little higher to balance out but it didn’t really work, so we rode the gusts out until they dissipated. That’s the good thing about gusts.

As we headed north towards our first anchorage we were dead downwind, surfing down the little 2-3 foot waves that felt a lot bigger. I had the sails wing and wing, which was quite an accomplishment for me. I had to steer carefully to stay directly downwind and gain as much speed as possible. A trimaran and windsurfer raced past my little heavy displacement hull.

To enter the harbor we had to pass through a small cut in a breakwater rock wall. I was warned to keep left as there is an uncharted “stack” underneath the water. We wanted to sail into the harbor but I thought it best to furl the sails and use the engine.

While motoring the wind and waves were directly abeam and while we were in no immediate danger my instincts as well as my knowledge of seamanship told me this is not where you want the waves to be hitting. So I headed downwind to gain some sea room and then cut back up into the waves bow first.

We reached the harbor. Slowly motoring past all the beautifully moored boats to the open anchorage we had nearly all to ourselves. After circling a few times I dropped the hook for the first time and she set right away. We cracked open a beer for we had arrived.

Sailors are a lonely bunch

by Emilyadventure travel, Bristol 24, Buying your first sailboat, Living Aboard June 5, 2016July 25, 201810 Comments

It’s nearly two in the morning and I’m rowing my dinghy around the marina back to my boat. I round the corner of B dock and the sheer line of my little vessel is illuminated from the soft lantern light coming through the port. The sound of laughter is coming through the hatch.

This is my little house, I think to myself. She’s floats.

My two friends and a dog are inside. They’re cooking chicken and laughing about the French guy on the boat a few slips down that ran out in his speedo to help us dock the boat after we went for a sunset sail. He invited us over for drinks and put out a spread of every cocktail imaginable and high end cheese. With ice clinking in my glass I’m reminded of why I love this lifestyle. The people.

When the yard manager and his crew knocked on the hull at 9 AM on Friday morning and said, “You ready, Captain?” all the work from the last four weeks, all the uncertainties, and lonely nights in the boatyard, the hours of frustration and fears, the storms that bellowed through, the long days filled with little food floated away with the gentle four knot breeze.

And as my nearly two ton boat was lifted into the air, my motley crew surrounding me, I stared in wonder at this piece of fiberglass, metal and wood that has already taken me on a great adventure.

To all the people who have lent me a hand, a buck, or a word of advice–I couldn’t have done it without you.

“Happiness only real when shared.” -Alexander Supertramp

Fixing a hole where the rain gets in

by EmilyBristol 24, Sailing on a budget, Tools & Tricks May 26, 20162 Comments

It’s a half hour past sunset and I’m messing with my rigging. Ripping out cotter pins, tightening and loosening turnbuckles. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m inherently the laziest person on earth. The fact that I even get out of bed in the morning is a wonder to me. But somewhere along this journey I’ve taken a genuine interest in actually doing something. Fixing stuff with my own two hands. Using saws, hammers, power drills, and lots of hand scrapers.

On any given day I have no idea what will happen. I think in the morning that I have a general one, and then something completely different ensues. Today I went into town for some provisions, odds and ends for the boat. After that I planned to lay my first coat of varnish (weather permitting), and finally get those bloody battens taken care of. The day had other plans.

I borrowed a shop vac from the boatyard to suck up the years of accumulated muck I’d sanded off my wood. I managed to get the oversized thing up the ladder, but when I saw my French boatyard friend Alex I asked if I could hand it down to him.

He’d been wanting to have a look at the boat for a while so he came onboard for the five second tour. She’s only 24 feet after all. Looking at my newly painted companionway I noticed a leak.

“What IS that?” I said flabbergasted.

“That’s water,” he said.

We started talking about the nature of leaks and how yes, they are a nuisance, but can be detrimental to the integrity of the boat’s structure. They can be especially bad for boats in northern latitudes as the water trapped inside the deck freezes.

“But if you head south this year, you won’t have to worry about winter,” he said.

I had two choices. I could try and fix the damn thing, wait until Fall to try and fix the damn thing, or just let my boat slowly rot right before my eyes. I chose to try and fix the damn thing.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I had a few minutes of guidance until Alex went to work on his broken inboard diesel engine, and I was left to my own devices with a screwdriver and a chisel. I got the tracks for the sliding hatch off, and then the hatch itself. I was feeling pretty amazed and surprised that I’d actually figured it out. In my glory, however, I didn’t realize the entire contents of the project were covered in silicone. That menace to society. The ultimate contaminant. The worst sealant for a boat.

Two and a half hours later I was still scraping silicone.

I finished, finally. Just in time for a shower and a meal before sunset. I can’t seem to get my hands clean. I crawl into the boat and have a dance with two mosquitos. I relax into the settee and wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Pocket full of food

by EmilyBristol 24, Living Aboard, Outfitting May 23, 2016May 23, 2016Comments are Disabled

I don’t know what’s fuller, my heart or my belly. All of the jobs to make my little boat “seaworthy” are done. All that’s left is some cosmetic work and I’m splashed. But I’m not ready to leave this little boatyard community.

My French neighbor, John, with the Pearson 35 that he’s sailed to the Bahamas and back with his wife Gaby, reckons if I were here all alone I’d have figured it out. I can’t help but feel though that I couldn’t have done it without him and all the others who have helped me and my little boat get this far.

I’ve always secretly resented people who “forget to eat.” If I meet up with a friend around dinner time and they say they’ve had a “big lunch” I seethe silently. But it’s been happening to me. I’ve been forgetting to eat. It’s so hot during the day and the boat’s such a mess that the thought of cooking something and having to clean it up deters me and then I get caught up doing something else. I’ve managed to get a stock of some quick and easy stuff to make in a pinch (avocado and tuna tortillas anyone)? and I’m in no way too broke or cheap to buy food–it’s just sort of been slipping my mind.

The onslaught of wonderful humans feeding me started with the waitress at the marina cafe refusing to let me pay for my lunch when we went out. A few days later her boyfriend helped me install my bilge pump, a four hour job over the course of two days, and then invited me back to dinner at their house. They sent me home with a plastic bag full of chicken breast in my pocket. Yesterday morning I was having coffee with Josie, another female solo sailor, when I ran into Renee who had bought me a bag of fruit. Just because. “I thought you could use some fruit.” I ate the mangos like a ravenous beast in my cockpit underneath the sun. It reminded me of the tropics. I can smell the melon ripening as it hangs in my food hammock beside sweet potatoes I’ve yet to cook.

Last night a huge storm came through. I could see it building on the lake, marching towards the boatyard. My starboard chainplate, which is what keeps my mast attached to the boat, was removed for a bulkhead repair I was working on. Then the storm hit. I had two halyards tied down supporting the mast, so it wasn’t going anywhere in theory, but the wind blew hard and my mast leaned to the side in a way I never want to see again. The sound of the mast leaning from inside the boat had me sure the whole thing was going to come down any second. But sounds are always amplified inside the boat. Fellow boatyard neighbors Michael and Peter saw my commotion and came to help. When the storm passed they invited me for wine and snacks. After a couple of glasses Peter said, “Come with us to the restaurant, I’ll buy you dinner. The least I could do for a fellow hungry sailor.”

Today while I was helping another sailor tighten down his stanchions, Renee said, “Are you hungry?” and gave me ribs, corn and potatoes he had leftover from lunch. Then he invited me to a picnic dinner with a few other sailors where we ate pizza and salad. Julie and Alex are going to be sailing their Beneteau to the Bahamas this year. Julie had just baked a cake in their galley. She wrapped a piece up in some tin foil and I put it in my pocket.

“Everybody will help you. Some people are very kind.” -Bob Dylan

The Weather Cock

by EmilyBristol 24, Buying your first sailboat, Sailing on a budget May 17, 2016May 17, 2016One Comment

I love my boat. I’m in love with this lifestyle. Tearing everything apart during the day, putting it back together every night and she’s a home again. It’ll be even better when we’re floating. Everyone thinks I’m the crazy American girl living on her boat. Lots of people stay on their boats here in the boatyard and the marina, but I’m the only one actually living aboard. I walk around saying “bounjour” to people I don’t know, and wear a little red scarf around my neck to show what a Francophile I am.

This morning I woke up to a knock on the hull from the waitress at the little cafe on site with a pack of cigarettes for me! “Yellow cigarettes for the yellow boat,” she said. We chatted on the boat for a bit and then she took me for a real tour of this one pony town. She’s originally from Seattle and we had a lot to talk about like the Pacific Northwest, our taste for dating older men, and traveling. She paid for lunch and when I tried to give her money she said “welcome to North Country.”

The tour wouldn’t be complete without a stop at the Weather Cock, the local watering hole. While there I told sea stories and basically won all the local’s over, once we got one question squared away. One of the guys asked it, after I told them my plans for the boat, but everyone was thinking it.

“So, what are you a trust fund kid or something?”

My new friend chimed in. “She bought her boat with the tips she made waitressing.”

She filled me in on all the gossip around the marina. Like how everyone thought my crew member, Gina, and I were lesbians, and how it was just assumed I was French Canadian because of my style. Both I took as compliments.

When we got back I invited her and her boyfriend for dinner onboard one night in the yard, and definitely a sail once I’m launched. Before leaving she told me how cool she thought it was that I have the self motivation and confidence to buy my own old sailboat, fix it up and go sailing. It was nice to hear from one of my peers.

My confidence and motivation comes in waves, but today was a good day. I finally figured out the roller furler, prepped for my chainplate repair, and got my new ground tackle all set up. While doing so, my boat neighbor, Claude, came over with a shackle that he insisted I keep, “just in case.”

Solo sailor girl

by EmilyBristol 24, Sailing on a budget, Solo sailor girl May 1, 2016May 1, 20169 Comments

“It’s just a boat,” I mutter to myself. “I can always sell it.”

I’m drowning in self doubt.

It’s the eve of day before I haul all my shit six hours north to where she sits on dry dock. Perched on the land like a forgotten treehouse that needs renovating.

The car is packed with all of my gear–an anchor, life jackets, blankets, galley supplies, an assortment of lines, batteries, bungie chords and buckets. I keep clicking away from the page to order my harness. As if typing in my card number and hitting the submit button somehow solidifies that fact that I’m doing this all by myself.

A friend unexpectedly expressed interest in joining me onboard this summer, and I’ve tried to push it out of my head. Tried not to have any expectations. Tried not to pressure her. Tried not to need anyone else.

Tried to remember I bought this boat with every intention of doing it alone, and even though I’m in over my head, I can learn how to swim.

My knee jerk reaction is to text a bunch of my friends. Tell them how scared and lonely I feel at this very moment, and anticipate the validation I’m bound to receive. But I don’t, I just think of all the people who have helped me get this far, who believe in me. A community of support has been built around me. The foundation laid, now all I have to do is go live my dream. Take this insane idea and turn it into the unforgiving reality that is a life at sea. Believe in myself.

I place my order. Here goes ~~nothing~~ everything…

A four letter word

by EmilySolo sailor girl April 21, 2016May 1, 20163 Comments

The concept of home is something I’ve tried to avoid. I always thought home meant settling. Home meant staying in one place. Home meant arriving somewhere and never leaving. But I’ve changed my mind.

Home is where the girls at the coffee shop know your voice when you call them on the telephone to ask what time open mic starts. Home is where a new friend acquires a piece of wood from their work that you desperately need for a boat project. Home is where your best mate works at the local brewery and refuses to let you pay for a single beer. Home is where the people you serve at the restaurant turn into allies. Home is where someone you bought a dinghy from off craigslist turns into your sailing buddy. Home is where your co-worker’s brother lets you use his West Marine discount. Home is a text asking if you can walk someone’s dog. Home is riding your bike through a part of town you’ve been through thousands of times, and seeing it with new eyes. Home is a community of people, near and far. Home is family.

Home is familiar, stable—but it’s a paradox. It’s something I’ve always yearned for while away, yet tried to escape.

I’ve been scared of it, but I’ve learned that a sense of home will never soften my urge to wander, because it’ll always be there when I return. That’s why they call it home.

Hobby horse

by EmilyBristol 24, Buying your first sailboat, Tools & Tricks April 19, 20162 Comments

A 22 pound anchor, a 10 pound anchor roller, 25 feet of chain, and 200 plus feet of line. That’s nearly 75 pounds at the bow of my Bristol 24 sailboat that’s never been there before. Take into account her Johnson 9 horsepower, four stroke outboard engine at the stern, and I’m afraid I might be having some center of effort issues come sailing time.

When I was a kid I was obsessed with animals, I still am, but my parents liked to keep a fur free home. When I asked for a dog, I got a bunny. When I asked for a pig, I got chickens. When I asked for a horse, I got a hobby horse. One of the plastic kinds you see outside midwest grocery stores that dips up and down from forward to back. A fun sensation when you’re a kid, not so much when you’re a sailor.

My quasi plan to right this inevitable issue is to add more weight mid ship, most likely in the form of canned goods, rice, and water. But I have a theory…

When clambering through the lockers I saw some removable bars of ballast. I think they are led, or iron. When I asked the previous owner what was up with these he said they came with the boat and he always just left them in that spot, mid ship.

“I think personally, though, she’d sail better with that weight up in the bow,” he said.

This leads me to believe that with the engine aft, external ballast mid ship, and the added ground tackle weight forward, she might just sail like a balanced boat rather than a bucking bronco.

Strategy for success

by EmilyBristol 24, Buying your first sailboat, Journey to minimalism March 25, 201610 Comments

“Can you see the way there? If you can see the path there, get going. If not, get busy with something else.”I visualize it in 3D, actual life, real time. I visualize it on paper, with stick figures, cartoon sails, a narrow drawing of a canal. I see the end of the season and finding some way to make money over winter for the next, which will be the entrance to another waterway. It’s not about the money. Sure, I worry a little I might run out of money, then what? But it’s not about the money. There’s always more of that.
My entire life, every idea I’ve ever had, people will say “I’m afraid if you do X, Y or Z (i.e. something different than their way) you’re going to fail.” They don’t realize though, quitting is not an option. I can’t quit my life. This isn’t a sport. This isn’t a vacation. This isn’t some model fucking airplane I’m building. It’s a lifestyle. A long-term, sustainable, lifestyle.Hell, you know how they ask your “5-year plan” at a job interview? Well, I never had one—until now.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8tU74WRkL4&feature=youtu.be

First world problems

by EmilyOutfitting, Sailing on a budget March 14, 2016March 14, 20166 Comments

My biggest problem the past few months has been when my mom bought a new brand of pretzels, but that’s all about to change. It’s raining here today and even though the temperature sits at a nice 50 degrees I refuse to go outside. This weather is a cold reminder that my boat doesn’t have heat.

I plan to live at anchor because I can’t afford to pay the exorbitant cost of a summer slip and there’s quite a long waiting list to even get one. While I’d love to be out cruising and exploring all season the truth is I’ll have to be holed up in a secure place, row to shore everyday, get on my bike and ride to work.The journey to bring my boat back to salt, which is set to take place in late summer/early fall, has anchorages along the way, but a lot of the time I’ll be forced to pay for a night’s moorage. Add in the fees for going through locks, fuel, stepping and unstepping the mast for bridge and lock clearance, and it’s going to be an expensive adventure. On top of that I need to have enough money tucked away in case I need to hang the boat up next winter, and pay first month’s rent in whatever place I decide to hang my hat and refill the sailing kitty until the following Spring. In order for all of this to come to fruition, I’m going to need a job during the summer, as all of the money I have now will go into outfitting Anam Cara.

The town where I was hoping to live anchored off of might turn out to be a big no go. My research has taught me that somehow the designated anchorage area is governed by the town, as it exists within a breakwater, and you must acquire a permit to anchor there and not exceed your stay longer than three days. A fellow sailor who cruised these waters ten years ago seemed to disagree, because how can the town govern the water, right? But what I read was an official government document.As a sailor, flexibility is key, so I moved on to my plan B which is to anchor in a large bay which has varying degrees of protection, 10 miles south. On shore is a large, working shipyard and marina which I hope takes kindly to a liveaboard sailor girl that wants to grab a shower, tie up her dinghy, and lock up her bicycle. I thought about calling them and asking, but thought better of it as not to draw attention to myself. Unfortunately, liveaboards often get a bad reputation as the marine industry has a growing agenda that caters to rich yachters. I’ve yet to come up with a plan C.

Aside from the usual maintenance like washing and waxing the hull and top sides, woodwork, an array of latches and hose clamps that need replacing, I might need to drop the mast right away and assess an issue with the step. Her interior needs a fresh coat of paint, the cabin floor needs a revamp, I need to come up with a plan for cooking in the galley (as there’s no stove), and should probably consider some kind of portable heat system like an alcohol heater for those grey, rainy days. I’m only touching the surface here of what all needs to be done in order to get her ship shape. I certainly have my work cut out for me. I’ve got navigation squared away, and while I suss out equipment for my anchoring system I’m looking for a dinghy. I want to buy a second hand inflatable like the old Avon I used to row, but craigslist this time of year is a barren, desolate wasteland. My efforts to find a soft bottom inflatable on ebay have also proved fruitless, as it costs as much as the dinghy to have it shipped. I have a backup plan to buy a reasonably affordable Sea Eagle inflatable (not the prettiest or most rugged, but it’ll do for now), until the dinghy of my wallet’s dreams comes rowing my way.

Navigation for small sailboats

by EmilyOutfitting, Tools & Tricks March 7, 2016March 7, 20163 Comments

If 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.Charts 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 Aboard March 1, 2016March 1, 201610 Comments

Ah, 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.

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

by EmilyBristol 24, Sailboats February 23, 2016February 25, 201618 Comments

If 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

Like what you see? Follow the journey and get updates from the poop deck.

360 degrees north

by EmilyBuying your first sailboat, Sailing February 12, 2016February 15, 201610 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.

Like what you see? Follow the journey and get updates from the poop deck.

Soul friend

by EmilyBuying your first sailboat, Sailing February 7, 2016One Comment

“You’ve always done everything you ever said you were going to do,” my best friend says to me. She’s on a cell phone in Seattle. I can hear the rain and sirens from a passing police car.

“You don’t understand,” I say. “This isn’t just some job I’m trying to get in another country. I’m afraid I’m going to get this boat but be paralyzed by the responsibility, so it will sit there unmaintained and degrading. And I’ll be living on this tiny floating thing that has become some kind of prison.”

“That won’t happen,” she says. “I’ve got to go.”

She hangs up.

Somehow this validation from my friends makes me feel better. How they’re already telling their people in these cities so far away from me about this boat I’m getting that they’re going to be sailing on soon.

My fears are not irrational. I’ve been shirking my boat responsibilities. Yes, I’ve been working a lot and socializing more than usual—but I’ve had the time. I need to schedule a survey for the trip I’m taking soon, but I just haven’t done it.

I’m going to see the boat that I think is “the one.” So many sailors have used that cryptic line.

“When you know, you know.”

“But how?” I ask.

“You just know.”

That’s all I can go off. The fact that this boat was the first one I called on four months ago when my pockets were empty. How even when I push her to the bottom of the list she somehow manages to resurface as number one every time. How I’ve already started making the list of what she will need right away in order for me to be comfortable splashing her and living aboard.

How her name is translated into English as “Soul Friend,” and how my handful of nearest and dearest mates scattered across this country, who are the only people that I can talk to when I’m on the edge that can make me feel human again—how I’ve always referred to them as my “soul friends.”

Two years liebster

by EmilySailboats, Sailing February 1, 20165 Comments

Is it too late to claim my prize? Nearly two years ago the magnetic duo from SV The Red Thread nominated me for a kind of blogger to watch award created by, well, other bloggers to watch, and I never claimed my booty. I’m always late to show up to the party, like the time I literally came down with the swine flu in 2011, or the late notice sitting unopened in regard to my overdue library books.

Basically the Liebster Award works, rather, worked, like a chain letter where one blogger nominates another and on it goes. So, without further ado here are my answers to the queries bestowed upon me by two of my favorite voyaging sailors.

1. Who are you and what inspires you to do what you “do” (take that as you please)? I suppose I’m the creative type, definitely a student of life, constantly reinventing myself and always searching for something to feel. I’m a traveler, a nomad. I’ve had many different jobs, most often as a seasonal cellar hand in commercial wineries. I’ve also worked as a newspaper journalist, a farm laborer, a dock girl at a fancy marina, and more. Right now I work as a waitress, freelance journalist, and on the bottling line at a winery.

I try not to define myself by my job. I try not to ask people “what do you do?” Rather, “what’s your story?” Above all I’m a feeler and a writer. I’ve always said we need to feel as much as we can because you never when you may not be able to feel anything anymore. I quell my social anxiety by being an extreme emotion seeker. It doesn’t always work out, but I like to think I can create some piece of art from an experience–whether it be a poem, a song or an essay, which is very cathartic.

2. We are all seeking something in this journey – what are you after? I’m seeking a sense of significance in this life. A sense that I’m living a life well lived. Community amongst like minded people. I want to be a part of something that keeps my hands busy and feet firmly planted in reality, yet allows for plenty of dreaming and scheming. I want to come face to face with myself, be humble enough to accept help from others yet be astute enough to overcome challenges on my own.

3. The sky is the limit; where would you like to go next? Well, I plan to buy, live and sail on my boat around the northeast. When I’m ready I’d like to harbor hop down the Atlantic coast to the entrance into the Intracoastal Waterway and putter my way down to the Florida Keys. From there it’s only 60 miles to the Bahamas… However an old sailor just recently told me a story of how he became shipwrecked in the Bahamas, which got me a bit rattled. “Never sail at night there,” he said.

4. Who is the hero in your life? That’s a difficult question for me to answer. I suppose I just really respect people who are living the lives that they want to live, and who don’t paint it as this rose colored journey without sacrifices. I also truly admire couples who are still in love after years together and never got sick of or began to resent the other so much that they called it quits. I could easily say something like “Lin and Larry Pardey are my heroes,” but all I can say about them is if you read the entire “Cruising in Seraffyn” series you’ll not only have read one of the best sailing adventure books out there, but one of the greatest love stories of all time.

5. What hidden talent or skill do you have? I’m a ukulele songstress who sings and performs all original music.

6. Share your favorite *simple* recipe (okay, that is actually a request…). I’m no whiz in the galley and basically eat for survival, budget and nutrition. Rice and beans, potatoes and eggs are my staples. But here is a simple recipe for a pasta sauce that a broke Italian taught me to make:

1 can whole peeled tomatoes
Garlic
Onion

Chop onion and simmer in olive oil. Add tomatoes and break them up with a fork. Add chopped garlic. Cover and let stew until all the flavors that will make your breath stink have seeped into the sauce. It costs about a dollar and you can add other veggies if you’d like.

7. If you could meet anyone, dead or alive, who would it be? I’d like to meet the current owner of the boat that is meant to be mine

8. What is your favorite post you’ve written (please link to it!)? I have two, both with a reoccurring theme:
When things went south
Make sure it’s yours

9. Describe yourself in 3 words, no more and no less (oops, again, a request). I can’t do that, but one time I wrote a “room wanted,” ad while I was living in Wellington, New Zealand and it said this: “Friendly. Likes gardens. Pays rent.”

10. What are you afraid of? Other than everything? Waves.

Okay, so now I’m supposed to nominate a blogger to watch and I nominate Justine and Tricia. Justine is a badass Canadian who is living aboard her little C&C 24 with her partner. They have plans to leave the frigid water temps in British Columbia and sail down the wild west coast to the Mexico where the water and beer is warm. Tricia is an English lass that has been living aboard and restoring a good old boat named Gwen with her man friend and they’ve finally made it out of the boat shed and onto the water after a year (or more) of hard work. They also have adventures up their sleeves.

So, here are my questions, ladies, if you’d like you can answer them now in a post of your own, or you can wait two years to do it, like I did.

1. What’s the pants shitting scariest thing that has happened to you while either out sailing or working on your boat?

2. What are the biggest challenges you face living aboard a sailboat?

3. Ever ponder how you are a minority in the sailing community (as a woman)? How does that make you feel and what would say to a woman who is perhaps intimidated by sailing being such a mail dominated lifestyle?

4. What scares you the most and why: pirates, the possibility of a giant squid taking your boat down to meet Davy Jones, or storms?

5. What do your non sailing friends and family think of you living on a boat?

The Bristol 27

by EmilyBoat shopping, Buying your first sailboat, Living Aboard January 29, 201616 Comments

Sitting in the cabin of the boat ten feet off the ground I felt like I was in the belly of a whale, swallowed whole by her size. Her current owner left me instructions to tie up the tarp properly for the impending snow storm and left me to fiddle around unbothered.
The first time I ever sailed was on a 43-foot catamaran during a 1200 nautical mile trans-Tasman journey. From there I sailed on everything from tall ships to day sailors, with the majority of my time sailing spent aboard a 22-foot pocket cruiser. Ever since that fateful day that I learned about small boats, size has mattered.

I’m not a purist, or a good enough sailor to be considered an authority on anything, but I scoff at fancy boats. Give me something with a simple rig, good bones, an adequate anchoring system and a simple way to charge a handheld VHF.All signs from my self-survey pointed to this boat being a winner. Yes, there were some signs of delamination on deck but nothing indicated an entirely rotten core. Yes, she had beads of silicone around some fittings that indicated leakage. Yes, some of the bolts on the lifeline stanchions were rusted. Yes, her main sail would need to be retired almost immediately. But none of this seemed beyond my skills or budget for replacement or repair. She even had a working outboard motor and the head had been ripped out years prior (I come from the school of using a bucket as a head, just ask Teresa Carey, so that was a plus for me). The biggest issues I found were rusty chainplates and lack of a working 12 volt electricity system. Both were a turn off, but not enough to pull the plug.

The price was right. The owner was honest. It wasn’t the work that needed to be put in that would swallow me, it was her magnitude. She was closer to it but wasn’t “the one.” Now, I look forward to meeting her little sister. . .

“At sea, I learned how little a person needs, not how much.” – Robin Lee Graham

The 30-minute self survey

by EmilyBuying your first sailboat, Living Aboard January 25, 201612 Comments

Moving home at the age of 26 had me feeling a bit lonesome as everything in my hometown has remained much of the same, while I’ve changed dramatically. I envy the loners, I really do, but I’m a social creature and always have been. But with my newfound alone time I’ve found something incredible: focus. I’ve saved enough money for my boat, a professional marine survey, and the imminent upgrades it will certainly need right away. I’ve even stashed extra funds away for some travel for travel’s sake before I move aboard in Spring. I’ve studied closely what designs, designers, and builders have created inherently seaworthy vessels, and specifics I need to bear in mind when I examine a potential purchase. Recently I traveled to New England to look at two boats I was very keen on. They were in my price and size range, and I loved their lines and reputations. Luckily I was able to replace the diamonds in my eyes with concrete and see them for what they really were…

Disclaimer: I am still a beginner and looking to soak up as much information as possible! If you see anything in the photos below that I’ve called wrong, or failed to notice, please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts!

The Sea Sprite 28

Using notes from the book, “Inspecting the Aging Sailboat,” by Don Casey as a guide, I found some issues needing repair that were far beyond my skills.

Her rudder moved easily, the prop as well. Her top sides had lots of little bumps but I likened it to cosmetic only. Her bottom had layers upon layers of paint, easy to remedy with some scraping, sanding and painting. I tapped around the thru-hull fittings and the sounds resonated sharp. I found no overwhelming indication that the hull was in anything other than good shape.

Down below was another story. The boat was out of the water on jack stands, yet still the bilges were filthy and full of water. That meant two things to me, 1) the owner didn’t maintain clean bilges so what else could have been neglected, 2) water was getting into the boat.

I knew going into it that this boat had some issues, as it was advertised as needing “TLC to bring her back to her original glory.” Plus, she was priced nearly 70 percent lower than any of her used sister ships for sale. The hardware on deck that houses the boats’ spinnaker pole is apparently the source of a leak that has caused damage to the bulkhead veneer on the port side of the boat, but with a few pokes of my knife it seemed the damage went deeper than the decorative layer of wood. While I was sounding the cabin floor I also found rot on the port side at the bottom of the head door where the “wall” meets the cabin sole. It was wet, soft, and alarming. I also noticed salt crystals and other signs of leakage high on the hull, which could indicate hull to deck joint leakage, but I’m not sure.

Pretty quickly I realized these issues were beyond my skills for repair and I didn’t bother doing anything other than a light once over on the mast, rigging and deck.

The owner has only had the boat for a one season, and he didn’t get a survey, nor did he know how old the rigging was, when the last time the hardware was rebedded (something important, especially the chainplates, on the SS 28 according to owners forums). He planned to fix the boat up, but other boats came into his life so this one went up for sale. I don’t doubt his honesty or integrity, and I think the boat is priced fairly. This Seasprite 28 will certainly make a sailor who is a little more suited for the task of refitting very happy.

Another major factor was her sheer size and girth, she seemed like she would be too much work to single hand. The cost of maintaining her inboard diesel engine was the third strike and I had to let this boat go.

I want to outfit, not refit my first sailboat, and I don’t doubt that a boat meticulously maintained by its previous owner is out there for me. In my next post I will go over my findings on the second boat I surveyed in New England, a Bristol 27.

Thorough

by EmilyBoat shopping, Buying your first sailboat January 20, 20166 Comments

That word was used again. That word that has never been the right adjective to describe my actions. That word associated with people who are inherently less likely than me to half ass everything. I’ve never been obsessive compulsive until I started shopping for boats, and while it may be aggravating to the current owner (who I ask to leave me alone with the boat and then respond with a very generic “eh,” when they ask me how I liked the vessel) it’s a quality I’m glad I developed. It’s difficult for me to describe how uncannily fun it was to stomp around those boats I went to see last week. How it made me feel to scrupulously inspect every inch of the hull, deck and cabin. I felt like I was ensuring my safety, like I’d learned so much since I went to inspect my first boat only a short month ago, like a few taps of the head of a screwdriver was going to save me from having to pay upwards of $500 for a surveyor to confirm my suspicion–this isn’t the right boat for me. I discovered some faults that may have otherwise gone unnoticed by the owners, like a rotting bulkhead on one boat. It was clear, that in my sailing education and theirs, we had come from different schools.
One of the owners texted me later that evening asking for my feedback, and when I gave it to him I was reminded of the time I quit a job and my boss asked for the same thing. People don’t actually want to know what’s wrong, and just because you’ve been sailing longer than a neophyte doesn’t mean you necessarily know more about boats, or anything about boats. Although I can’t help but wish I had an experienced sailor and boat buyer there with me, to confirm or deny my findings.
Every boat I call on brings me closer to “the one.” The stars seem to be aligning for one particular vessel, but it’s too soon to reveal anything about her condition or whereabouts. I don’t want to jinx it but unless a star falls out of the sky…

Until then the search continues, and so does my education in the valuable skill set that is the self-survey.

“There are a lot of people in this world at this moment in history who feel pretty lost in life. Who don’t feel like their life has a lot of purpose, has a lot of meaning, they don’t feel like they’ve actually achieved anything…People have gone to sea or have sought that experience as a means to remedy those lacks, and I would attest that can still be the case. If you do feel there a things in your life that you’d like to have that you’ve never had, sailing can be an excellent vehicle to reach that kind of satisfaction.” -Jay Fitzgerald, Pacific Northwest Engineless Sailor.

Featured on

Tag: sailing blog

Leaving Shangri La

Cutting the dock lines

Sailors are a lonely bunch

Fixing a hole where the rain gets in

Pocket full of food

The Weather Cock

Solo sailor girl

A four letter word

Hobby horse

Strategy for success

First world problems

Navigation for small sailboats

Liveaboard lifestyle

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

Like what you see? Follow the journey and get updates from the poop deck.

360 degrees north

Like what you see? Follow the journey and get updates from the poop deck.

Soul friend

Two years liebster

The Bristol 27

The 30-minute self survey

Thorough