Monthly Archives: August 2019

Quick and Easy Boat Trick: Aft Deck Storage

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I’m not going to lie: Life is pretty good right now sitting in a little condo that, while very modest by our standards, is air conditioned and comes complete with a salt water pool and spa. I am having a little vacation, getting used to the heat very gradually, and spending some time doing small boat projects in anticipation of the coming cruising season. We’ve got a kind of nice routine going here. Mike gets up early and heads down to the boat, makes his coffee and listens to the morning radio net (short and sweet though it is during the hot season). Then he starts on his boat projects, materials for which we shopped while in the states. I sleep a bit later and get up to a quiet condo, have my coffee, then begin working on my own projects. Some days I talk to clients over the phone. Our pace is sedate and fairly restful and we both needed this respite from traveling.

Galapagos on her initial survey day. You can see the hard case of the liferaft in this photo.

Blog readers all know how much we love our boat, Galapagos. But she isn’t perfect. Like the rest of us, she has things that could use improvement and one of these is the lack of storage on deck. On a 47 foot boat one would think that there would be loads of lazarettes but alas. Galapagos sports exactly one lazarette (boat language for a storage space accessed from the deck of a boat). It’s on the far aft deck and is one big, deep space that also includes our two hefty aluminum propane tanks and the rode for the stern anchor. Because of this, and because it’s just so difficult to dig this locker out anytime we need to find something, more storage was in order.

We had available to us the coachroof right behind the mizzen mast (see initial photo). When we bought her, Galapagos sported an old, hard cased life raft that had been attached to the deck of the coachroof.  We had removed that and bought a smaller raft, leaving that area free of encumbrances, but with the 4 thru-bolts still in place where the raft was attached. This was literally the only place available to put storage. I had guarded this space jealously because it made getting in and out of the cockpit and onto that aft deck so much easier, being able to avoid the entangling shrouds attached to the side deck completely. We also sit and lay across that area while underway, use the area when we catch fish, and pretty much act like it’s our ‘back porch’. I kind of didn’t want to ruin that groove but something had to give.

Michael had visions of building a fiberglass box, but where and when would he do this thing? Also that felt like a permanent solution to the problem and I wanted a way to ‘try it before you buy it’. I feel cautious about making permanent changes before I know for sure what we want. Because we literally use that coachroof area all the time, I needed to see how it would work having a big box up there taking up space while it gave us storage. Would it be worth it to free up space on the aft deck that was currently being used by gas cans, buckets of fishing gear, and the like? Would we still be able to use it for other things?

Our semi-temporary solution came to us when we visited the local Wal Mart and spied this large rectangular Coleman cooler. It was big enough that the existing bolts could be used to bolt it to the coachroof, but small enough that maybe we could still sit in front of it. We could definitely walk around it to get to the aft deck. We pulled the trigger on that bad boy for a measly 58$ and put it in the van. Michael drilled holes and put the existing bolts through, using washers for compression and butyl tape to prevent leaks. Et Voilá.  We now have a box for storage.

Firmly, if not permanently, attached. And actually it’s centered nicely, but the perspective in this phone photo makes it look off to one side. We didn’t want to drill more holes for now.

Mike is testing this out, but I have some ideas on the use of space that will allow us to store even more in there. Sure is nice to get that gas can off the deck. And that crate of ‘stuff’. Dinghy cable lock, fishing stuff, lots of useful items in that milk crate that never had a home before.

We were both concerned that there was no latch to hold the lid down, although the friction fit is adequate to most eventualities. To be sure, we bought this nifty strap for less than 4$ at Home Depot. It holds tightly and will surely last at least one or two seasons

Happily, there is just enough room to perch in front of the cooler.

In order to protect this new feature from the hot sun, I pulled out a scrap of outdoor fabric that was the right size and, sitting in the cool of the condo, stitched a cover for the cooler, using a dyneema drawstring at the bottom to cinch it up. I probably would not cross an ocean with this thing on the deck, but it will serve quite well where we are now, and when we get to a place where Michael can build his dream fiberglass box, we’ll know exactly what modifications we want; probably something with a lower and wider profile that we can use as a lounging area on passage, although this cooler is strong enough to sit or stand on.

If I had a sewing machine this kind of work would go faster. But actually I consider it a bit meditative to stitch this stuff by hand. When I get tired of meditating through needle and thread, I get to watch Netflix or listen to my Audible books, something I never seem to do on board the boat. I’ve covered all of our Bottom Sider cushions with new terrycloth, and next I’m doing the long yellow cockpit cushions that I made out of scraps of the latex bed topper we used in the aft cabin. Those have held up really much better than I expected!

Newly covered Bottom Siders. I won’t be covering the large one.

Costs (rounded to the dollar):

Coleman cooler – 58$
Strap – 4$
Fabric – 5$ (3.50/yard and I had this on board already because I never throw out fabric)
Dyneema – $4
Spring clip thingy- .35$, so basically change

Total cost: $71 plus change.

And now: CREEPY CRAWLY ALERT!

Here are a couple of photos Michael took this week. Can anyone ID these critters? I know we have a couple of readers who are interested in invertebrates, so let’s see what you come up with!

About six inches long, this millipede? was on the steps to our little condo. He had so many tiny legs it looked like he was wearing a skirt.

Is his little face cute? Ok well sort of, I guess.

Thousands of these caterpillars were crossing the road to get to the other side. I’m sure they had their reasons but it looked like the same sun blasted desert on both sides to us. Who is this little guy?

S/V Galapagos. Standing by, but not always on Channel 22a lately.

 

 

 

 

Hardship is Over Rated

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Recently I was reading this really entertaining, if a bit anxiety provoking, story I found on Digg.com. It’s a story about a young couple who wanted to experience life on the road, #vanlife style. They wanted an “authentic” experience, one with no frills; one that wasn’t “instagram ready”. While they would be inspired by #vanlife, they would do their travels on a low budget. My anxiety began for them in that first paragraph where the author describes the super cheap van they bought with an engine that leaked fuel at the first fill up. My God. What were they getting themselves into? As the title explains, they wanted to do van life ‘right’, but it broke them down.

I passed the story on to my son and daughter-in-law because they had traveled the country in their Honda Element before setting off on their travels to Europe. I felt like they would probably relate to parts of this story after traveling for almost a year. Jill had seen the story and read it already and as we dicussed it, I thought her takeaway was appropriate: “Don’t get in over your head because you think the vision of your dreams will carry you through”. Man, such truth. Spot on. That’s what a year of travel by land, or maybe two years of cruising by sea, will teach you. This story spoke to me.

Are we in over our heads? Do we still have the underlying dream? Some days we do, and then the next day we don’t. I speak for myself, of course. Lately I’ve struggled with what I can only describe as ennui. While Mike has experienced it as well, he doesn’t ‘do’ ennui as deeply as I do; at least where anyone would notice. He’s got too many projects going in his mind. I have a few, but I’m not as engaged with them as he is, although it says something that I really look forward to sitting down with a needle and thread and getting those cockpit cushions recovered with fabric I bought in the states. I’m not sure exactly WHAT it says, but it’s something. Maybe a glimmer of hope, a small piece of a dream that is still alive?

Galapagos was in great condition when we got back to her. That’s always such a big relief.

Anyway, I’ve been trying to put my finger on what these feelings are about. Am I not as adventurous as I thought? Am I just tired of cruising? Is it the heat of Mexico? (Because let me tell you it sucks.) Am I going to be able to get back into what I love when we are on the boat? Would a good snorkel experience put me back in the groove? There must be some reason why I was like a dog on a hunt for extra snorkel gear during our recent travels in the states. I had a dream recently that the boat had been tossed way up into the air and I had fallen into the water, all the way to the bottom of the sea. I was trying to swim for the surface but I was getting nowhere fast and was afraid I would drown. It was very scary, but on the other hand the water was super clear and warm. I hate these kinds of dreams. What gives, White? Take a salt tablet and snap out of it!

After sidling up to the topic on a number of occasions over the last year, we finally had the conversation about whether we are done with cruising. Spoiler alert: We aren’t. Whenever I am openly miserable I must give the impression that I want to quit and go home. I don’t want to quit, I just want to find a solution to the current dilemma. I’d like to hide my suffering, but unfortunately I wear it on my face. Please see photo below. So while I’m not ready to throw in the towel,  I do sometimes believe that suffering is over rated as a tool for personal growth. And yet give me one example of something that has caused tremendous personal growth that has not involved the fires of  suffering of some kind? I’m hard pressed to think of one but I’m open to your opinions on this subject.

Two down. A few more to go. As always, I do this stuff by hand.

I’ve been thinking deeply about this lately as we make our way through the work that is getting the boat back in order so we can actually be cruising again rather than sitting in the lovely Marina Real in San Carlos. The current situation is this: It’s blessed hot in the boat. Two days ago it was 97F with humidity of 87%. Michael and I could not drink water and electrolytes fast enough to keep our bodies in order. Even standing still we literally dripped sweat onto whatever we touched and there would absolutely be zero touching of one another. “You want to hold my hand? Surely you jest! Step back; crazy man! ”

I struggle with nausea in the heat. My feet swell. I finally experienced what I had only read about before: ” It’s too hot to eat.” WTF. Nothing gets in the way of me and my food.  I had not been sleeping well and was close to tears way often. I found myself hunkering down in the cabin just trying to keep cool, then I realized that all the fans were just circulating hot air. It felt like I was literally in a womb of a smelter. All I wanted was to be born again into a cool, refreshing breeze. I began to question the sanity of what we were doing. I mean why was I even here? I felt like I was just surviving the weather conditions, certainly not thriving in them. Is this how I wanted to spend my time? (Which, by the way, feels super short lately.)

Just not a good look for anyone.

Conversations about throwing in the towel should not be had in sweat-dripping, sleep deprived conditions where my core temperature is hot enough to convince my body that it is ill. But have one we did, and it didn’t go particularly well for me. I had to call it off because: getting angry, which never helps. Then there is the feeling that because we have the absolute privilege to be able to make this choice at all, we should just take our lumps and never speak of them. It’s not lost on us in any way that we were born at the right time, in the right country, and are the ‘right’ color when it comes to the downright luck that gave our lives the right trajectory that we could actually put our shoulders to the plow, as it were, and work hard to make this happen. We take credit for what we have done, but we also know that others work much harder than we ever have and will absolutely never have this opportunity because the obstacles in their path are that much greater than ours ever were. So even sounding like we might be complaining feels somehow wrong. And the work we did put into this choice, not to mention all the money we spent, makes the decision of when to stop a weighty one, indeed.

Fantasies of renting an air conditioned condo swarmed in my head but in some intangible way, that felt like a failure. Did we come all the way to Mexico to live in a condo and drive our car around? We did not, but I admit the temptation is strong and that could still happen. Mike was doing OK in the heat. I mean, he was hot and drippy, but he wasn’t suffering overly much. Or maybe I was just suffering enough for both of us. I don’t know. Our Andrew/Jill combo are coming to visit in September and it’s also going to be just as hot then as it is now.  I need to get it together so I can enjoy this time with them. We need strategies in place that will help them stay cool so they don’t suffer overly much. I’ve been waiting for this visit for a year now. I cannot let heat get in the way of having fun. I want to snorkel with them and show them the best that the Sea of Cortez has to offer. (And no, it’s just not possible for them to come later in the year. They’ll be back working for a living.)

But back to the story of life’s struggles from the van-traveling couple. One of the thoughts expressed in this story crystallized for me what I’ve been experiencing in the past few months but had trouble putting into words, heat and humidty aside. Something about seeing this in black and white in another person’s words struck home with me and maybe, if you are cruising, for you as well. It’s pretty simple:

“ …transient living can wreak havoc on anyone….it’s harder to maintain healthfulness when you don’t have stability—when trouble can come at any time, in many forms.”

Well, slam bam. That’s it in a nutshell. We definitely feel attached to the boat and consider it ‘home’ for now. But the constant transitions, the moving from place to place by land, sea, and air, sleeping in a new place every few days, the continual focus on preventing trouble, the problem solving in a foreign country with few resources where language is truly a barrier; the logistics of accomplishing the most simple task, they all tend to wear on us over time. When you add adjusting to hostile weather conditions into the mix, it can tip a person over the edge. And that’s what’s been happening. These inescapable hot, sweaty days pushed me over the edge.

Just a fond memory of that air conditioned AirBnb with the king sized comfy bed in Puerto Peñasco. Land living. It makes a body soft. 

We discussed renting a condo and that’s still an option. But I do want to be able to adjust to this. Maybe my body just needs a more gradual acclimation? To solve the immediate problem of no relief we bought an air conditioner that we can use while at the dock. I had been sleeping in the main cabin because it’s cooler and last night I actually was able to rest with the AC going. But I think we will put it in the aft cabin for now because it struggles to keep the salon cool. It’s small. And the heat is big. It would probably handle the aft cabin just fine. Then we can have a cool room to go to when the going gets tough. We can actually run it with a generator as well, but that’s not going to be a regular occurrance. Still, it’s nice to know that if one of us succumbs to the heat, we have a way to escape it. And if the kids come and they, too, have trouble accomodating the heat, we can give them some relief. One of the previous owners of our boat posted to me on Facebook that it was too bad the central air conditioner he had installed on the boat when he was in the Sea of Cortez was no longer on board. I tell you, I cried real tears when I read that.

Installed in the main salon, our fantastic Ryobi rechargeable fan helps circulate the cool air.

Air conditioning, boat style. When this happens you are no longer cruising. You are living at the dock.

Out here on the water we are constantly doing what we can to make sure we don’t ‘get in over our heads’. This isn’t a vacation we’re on. It’s a continual balance between what is worth it in the long run, and what might be dangerous or just even not very much fun. When people consider cruising on a boat as a lifestyle choice, these times that are between actual cruising trips are frequently discounted or missed altogether in the dreaming and the planning stages. I know that we didn’t even really think about them at all. Our entire focus was on being on the water and making the boat safe. It’s taken us a bit aback to understand that there is so much time where you are actually doing other things; not sailing or anchoring or snorkeling. There are way more than I imagined of these other, less fun things that you have to get through to get back to those things you dreamed about. These things have been, for me, the ones that have made me feel more like we are in over our heads, and where we have to struggle to keep the vision of the dream alive until we can go out and sail, anchor in a sweet little cove, and slip silently, once more, into the silent water to commune with our fishy friends under the sea. I hear the water is clear this time of year.

Sea Fans keeping the dream alive.

I leave you with an appropriate joke I read on Facebook:

When you’re under the sea,
And an eel rubs your knee,
That’s a moray.

Get it?

S/V Galapagos, Standing by on Channel 22A

Oh, The Humanity!

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I just logged into this site for the first time in weeks and suddenly the website insisted I prove my humanity. I mean, Okay.  Make me do math to prove I have a brain and not a bunch of circuits. It’s not that there’s any harm in doing a simple arithmetic problem, it’s the whole ‘prove you are a human’ thing that gets me. I guess that’s what I get for not logging in for weeks. But hey, I’ve been mildly busy lately. We humans. We’re known for ‘doing things’ and for not reporting them on the internet.

Back in Mexico. For the uninitiated, this is what the streets look like outside of town. That gate hides our car.

But we’re back in Mexico as of today. After a stint in Mike’s home town in Tennessee, then a visit to my family up in Washington, we finally decided we were simply putting off the inevitable and bought a ticket home. And by ‘home’ I mean back to Galapagos and the sweltering heat of Mexico. Do I look forward to being back aboard? Sure I do. We have missed having our own place where we can spread out and have our privacy. And we have missed the water.

Do I look forward to being hot and sweaty again? Not so much. So I’m enjoying our last few days of air conditioning sitting here in our cheap AirBnb in the barrio outside of Puerto Peñasco. Drive a little, save a lot and get a really sweet little place for about half what a room down on the malecon would be. I tell you land living makes you soft.

Behind the gate: this!

And then open the door to this! Two bedrooms, one with a nice king sized bed. Be still my heart! I wish we could stay longer. Alas, this place is booked. 37$/night. WHATT?

Is our boat here? It is not. Galapagos sits sweetly in her slip down in San Carlos at Marina Real, awaiting the day we arrive with our van full of supplies, load her up, and sail her into the sea again. But first, we wanted to be on the ground in Puerto Peñasco to check out the boatyard here and the marinas. I mean, we’ve paid for moorage through the end of August. What else do we need to do with our time?  Nothing being straight forward in the world of cruising, we are getting the lay of the land so we can return with the car after we unload in San Carlos. We hope to leave the car somewhere safe here and bring the boat up,  and find a place to park it for a few days. Why? Kids coming to visit! Hurrah!

The next adventure on our agenda is having our Andrew and his wife, Jill, aboard Galapagos for a three week tour of the northern Sea of Cortez. They arrive in September and we have been waiting PATIENTLY. FOR. OUR. TURN. to see them. We are the last stop on their year long travel adventure, which has been such an epic trip!  Currently at a lovely Workaway in Spain, they have completely rocked this whole travel thing. If you know young people who want to travel and do Workaway stays, they should check out Andrew and Jill’s blog. Lots of great travel, Airbnb, and Workaway stories (the good and the ugly), excellent photos, and some advice from seasoned travelers.  I’m sure the Sea of Cortez, while not exactly Europe, will not disappoint.

We stayed in a casita at this property in Tucson. What a beautiful place. We loved it.

Wherever we go we take notes about what we love in the places we stay. We love this architecture, the use of line, the curved walls and spaces. And the pool. I loved this pool so much. Damn, I already miss that pool.

This season will be the deciding one in terms of what’s next for the Little Cunning Plan crew. We are hoping to do a Pacific Crossing next year, hoping Andrew and Jill will be able to crew with us for that, but there are issues playing in the background of our lives that may make us have to put that off for a year or so. And if we put it off, will we ever get to go? We are the generation that gets squeezed in the middle between our own aging process and that of our parents. Both oldest kids in our families, we are keenly aware of the vulnerabilities of our surviving parents as well as our own mortality that has crept upon us with the greatest of stealth. If we cannot do the crossing, will we continue to travel by boat? Will we be finished and ready to sell beloved Galapagos? How does anyone ever know how to make that kind of decision? We feel stuck right now, unable to move forward until things out of our control get resolved. That won’t be until at least October. So for now, we are focusing on the here, the now, the enjoyment of getting back to the boat and getting back on the water for as long as it lasts.

This is just to say we have a lot of balls up in the air right now, many of which will not appear on this blog or on our Facebook page. Like all people, our lives are very human, very complex, very much in-motion at all times. Blogs make things look so straightforward, even when they are not.  I wonder if  all this will cause me to have to do another math problem to prove my own humanity the next time I log into this site. Ah well. I can just about manage that.

I leave you with some photos from Tucson, a city worth visiting even in the heat of summer.

At the Tucson Botanical Garden on a day we played ‘tourist in the heat’.

In Marshall Gulch, on a hiking day. The mountains are a cool respite from the heat of the valley.

Is it a fly? A bee? We don’t know.

On the way to Marshall Gulch. Up where the air is cool. The next day was thunderstorms all day.

That to-die-for pool at the Airbnb. Did I mention I had a close encounter of the respectful kind with a beautiful wild Bobcat Lynx? Such a fantastic cat! I saw him up close and personal. I probably should have been afraid, but I was not.

A tile at the Tucson Botanical Garden. True words.

Until next time, S/V Galapagos, standing by on channel 22a. Damn, it feels good to say that.