Monthly Archives: February 2012

Hope ‘Springs’ Eternal!

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I am hopeful for an early spring this year. This hope comes as I look at the temperature outside and realize it’s a chilly 33 degrees Fahrenheit. And that’s without the wind chill and the freezing rain/snow that’s been blowing around all day long. Once this winter storm passes, though, I’m going to hold out for spring to come early and stay. We deserve it. It’s time. And I think I may have evidence of such an event blooming in my yard. Walking the garden, I notice that I have a lot of things blooming much earlier this year.

Of course, I say that every year because it’s about this time that those of us who are the uber-gardeners start chomping at the bit to get outside and put our hands in the dirt. It’s true. I have been happiest with dirt under my nails and leaves in my hair. Fortunately, I married a good man who doesn’t mind a few twigs. In the past this extreme love of the garden has vied for space in my psyche with my love of sailing. I admit that many times I have let Mike go down to the boat by himself, preferring to putter around in the garden snipping this, digging that. My garden is beautiful. I’ve had many years of pleasure creating and maintaining it. Gardens are world’s in and of themselves. Ask any passionate gardener.

Last year I noticed that my feelings had changed. I still loved the garden, but I started choosing to go down to the boat rather than work all day. I allowed once pampered plants to fend for themselves. “Live or die”, I said to them. “You choose.” (Yep, I do talk to my plants.)  The balance was tipping; the downhill slide into full fledged boat craziness had begun. I bought a hammock, put it up on the boat, and commenced laying in it with a good book.

I usually don’t do much in moderation, a karmic lesson that will take me a lifetime to learn properly. So once the balance shifts, it’s a little like riding a freight train. Still, the karma requires that I throttle back the engine some and pay attention to the fullness of my life now, not simply the life I want to lead in the future. So I’m trying. In so doing, I go out to my garden and look at what’s blooming, plan what needs to happen this year; make time and space in the psyche for plants I still love and spaces that still feed my soul.

Here are some photos I took while walking the garden on a sunny day this week. The Hellebores are blooming! I love them because they bloom in the winter, then keep nice foliage the rest of the year. They are no muss, no fuss plants with a lot of impact.  And they don’t need much sun, which is good because I don’t have much to give them up here.

Hellebores, who give up their beauty in the depths of winter, are the promise of the spring yet to emerge for us. They are the hope-keepers of the garden, bridging the memory of gardens past  with the vision for the garden’s future. They say to us, ‘Just wait patiently for the future to emerge. No need to hurry. Appreciate me right now.’ And I love them for it, and try to listen.

Helleborus orientalis, yellow strain

Hellebore 'Regal Ruffles Mix'

Unidentified Hellebore, otherwise known as a "NOID"

A nice color combination in Hellebores.

Another pretty yellow. I put in lots of yellows one year. Now they are getting big.

Hellebore 'Kingston Cardinal', one of the best.

 

 

I Guess We’re Safe Now

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John Rousmaniere talks about doing equipment checks.

Another beautiful day with sunshine and wind, contrary to what the weather guy predicted, and yet another day spent sitting inside somewhere rather than out practicing our ‘heavy weather’ sailing techniques. This time, at least we were attending the Safety At Sea Seminar, sponsored by The Sailing Foundation. We figured we’d take the class as it would help us feel as though we were preparing for our voyage, even though it’s still several years in the future. After all, it’s marketed for both experienced and novice mariners. So we figured, “That’s us!” What they don’t really state, but what I could have figured out had I read between the lines a little more, is that their target audience is racing sailors. That’s why it’s conveniently timed to coincide with the Vic Maui and Pacific Cup races. And, after all, it’s designed to satisfy the US Sailing requirements for sailors in offshore races. Duh. Why didn’t I notice that before we signed up?

The day started off pretty cool with all the big names that were there to share their wealth of information and experience: John Rousmaniere, Chuck Hawley, Carol Hasse, Paul Miller. What a line up of speakers! I had stars in my eyes, imagining asking for autographs. The morning was spent listening to them talk about how to avoid conditions that lead to accidents, communications at sea, storm sails,  in-water safety equipment, losses of masts, rudders, and steering, and how to organize your crew and establish watch schedules. It was during this last session that I realized they weren’t really talking to me, with my ‘crew’ of just myself and Mike. They were talking to the racing sailors. Oh. Still, good information for the most part, especially since things learned in the world of racing have a way of trickling down to the cruiser/voyagers among us.

Carol Hasse talks about storm sails. Wish she had had more time.

Toward the end of the morning, I noticed that many of the presentations seemed rushed, like the presenter had to talk fast to get it all in. And no one had an opportunity to go into much depth on their presentation. Between 8:30 and noon, we had six different presentations. My mind was a-whirl. My head was heavy with words. I didn’t have anything to rest my head on. The room was so crowded Mike and I were sitting in chairs by the wall with no table to use.  All students know the importance of a desk.  It gives you something to keep your head from bumping your knees when you begin to fall asleep. I was ready for lunch.

The afternoon included examining recent fatal accidents in the racing sailing community, heavy weather boat handling, man overboard prevention and rescue, assisting other vessels, and medical concerns. Does that sound like way too much to cover in an afternoon? It was. By 2:00 I was falling asleep, and it wasn’t from low blood sugar. It was from the sheer number of words entering my brain as one presenter after another rushed through topics. It was also from sitting in an overly crowded room that was hot and stuffy.  I barely made it through the medical presentation, and I had been waiting for that one. Good thing the doctor who presented basically just read his slides to us. We can find them on the seminar website. So I didn’t really have to listen after all.

Paul Miller talks about what makes a good ocean boat. He's a good teacher. I would not be bored in his classes. I learned more from him than from any other speaker.

So if you are cruisers who would like to take a voyage across the sea someday and you haven’t taken this class, here’s my recommendation: this is really designed to satisfy an education requirement for sailors who sign up for these big ocean races. There is nothing wrong with that. And there is still a lot of useful information that we can all relate to and use.  But if you want to really hear what these speakers have to say, and learn more than just the bare minimum about any of these topics, this isn’t the venue for it. Go hear them talk somewhere else where they have time to do their topics justice and share some of their personal experiences. I wanted to hear their stories. Pretty much anyone could have delivered the information they provided, because they didn’t have an opportunity to really flesh out the details from their personal experiences. (Except for Paul Miller, who is a professor, and a really good teacher. He was able to tell all kinds of stories to get his points across.)

I guess the real lesson of the day is that there is plenty of opportunity to spend a lot of money taking classes that have to do with sailing. Not all of them are going to be worth your money as a cruising sailor. We paid $250 for both of us to attend the first day of this seminar, and I came away with precious little learning of new things. I don’t begrudge the amount because I know these things are very expensive to organize. However,  I already know how and why I should use my PFD, safety harness, and jack lines. Likewise, I already know it’s easier to prevent falls from the boat than it is to rescue someone once they are in the water. I’m already well aware that sleep deprivation and long watches make for bad company and even worse mistakes. I know there is no shame in heaving to in heavy weather, and I know how to do it (at least around here). I’ve been a firm believer in ‘preventers’ (that prevent booms from swinging wildly and killing people) ever since I knew they existed.

So did I get 250$ worth of learning? Nope, I did not. But I did get to see some pretty famous people in the sailing community. I also now understand why having someone like Carol Hasse come and assess our sail plan and make recommendations would be money well spent. And, I will probably find a first aid class for cruisers as I learned just enough during the doctor’s presentation to make me a danger to self and others.

In the end, I’m glad we didn’t sign up for the second day, which would have cost even more. That’s the day where people get to jump into the swimming pool with all their foul weather gear on and practice getting into a man-overboard raft. I think I already did that back in 1974 when I was training to be a lifeguard. We don’t need the certification offered by this seminar in order to go voyaging. Maybe we’ll figure out some other way to get wet and cold and swim around in our clothes. Lesson learned.

 

 

 

Boat Maintenance Day

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Whoops!

Ahhh, the feeling of sore muscles and a stiff neck from a day of boat maintenance. That must mean that boating season is right around the corner. Since Moonrise is for sale, we are trying to keep her looking extra spiffy, and catch up on a few minor repairs we’ve been meaning to do. What is it about boats and houses that make people, like us, put off the small things until it’s time to sell? It’s not like we wouldn’t enjoy the benefits of having things like nice looking exterior teak.

So we had a list of things to accomplish, and if it weren’t for the fact that it is so gosh darn cold, we probably would have put them off and gone sailing. Perfect wind today, and not raining. But we decided to be responsible instead. We stayed tied to the dock. I just hate when that happens.

While Mike worked on his stuff inside the cabin, I was busy up top sanding the teak handholds, trim, and rails that hold the companionway hatch in place. Let me show you my favorite tool. If you own a boat and you don’t have one of these, you are missing out.

Handy electric multi tool.

This tool is similar to this one, sold by Fisheries Supply for over $200. We got ours at Harbor Freight for about 40$ and it’s been great. We used it to cut away the heavy fiberglass on the sole of the cabin when we took out the ungainly table, and it makes short work of a sanding job like I had today. Well, maybe not exactly ‘short’, but certainly short-er! I figure if we burn it out, we can buy almost three of them for the cost of the Fein one. No pun intended.

So I got the teak sanded, but I cannot put any kind of a finish on it in this cold, wet weather. Still, it looks a heck of a lot better without the flaking Cetol. Frankly I hate Cetol and cannot understand why it’s the finish of choice for so many sailors. I prefer oiled teak, or raw teak because I do not enjoy having to sand off layers of old finish when it starts to flake. I’m leaving the teak raw until it warms up, then I’m going to oil it.

And what was Mike working on? First, he was hoping to replace the curved teak piece on the bulkhead. I bought some pieces that might work when I was up at Fisheries Supply. Alas, they were all the wrong size, just enough off that it would have looked wierd. We stared at it together for awhile, quietly, studiously, but in the end Mike made measurements and we’ll try to find something that won’t have to be retrofitted.

He's only looking happy for the camera. There's nothing happy about having to go searching for another piece of wood.

You might be curious how that little piece of wood came off. That’s what happens when one is standing in the companionway and the boat hits a wave. You fall backward and your hind end hits that little curve of wood, breaking the wood off, and leaving a wonderfully colorful bruise on said rear. Apparently it was not attached correctly in the first place.

Mike did a little engine maintenance as well. He cleaned the raw water strainer and although he explained to me all the other things he did, all I remember is “anode”, something something, “pump”, etc.  My mind is like a steel sieve when he begins to talk engine talk.