Author Archives: Melissa

Access Denied!

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This kind of traffic is reason enough to move.

We should have just turned the truck around and gone home. This is what I was thinking as we sat in gridlocked traffic on the entrance ramp to I-5. We were driving our friend’s big 1992 Ford 250 pick up truck down to the marina to pick up Puddler. Puddler needs a bottom job and our friends, Chere and Edwin, who leave their truck at our house in exchange for our occasional use of said truck, will be selling this truck at the end of July. We felt anxious to bring Puddler home before that happens and today was a ‘free’ day. We had nothing else planned.

As we approached the freeway we saw that traffic was stacked up in the right hand lane for a least a mile but was moving freely in the other two lanes. Apparently there was an air show at McChord AFB and hundreds of people thought they might actually drive to the show to see it, meaning that traffic would be impacted for miles. We were entering the freeway just before the exit to McChord, so everyone who wanted to go past that exit was in the left two lanes. Mike had to make a split second decision about whether to turn around and go back, or whether to brave the entrance ramp to the highway. He chose the latter. It occurred to us both that the Universe was trying to tell us something about how this day was going to go, but the siren call of Puddler’s need was simply too powerful. We soldiered on. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

After sitting at a dead stop, teeth grinding, for a full 10 minutes, slowly a couple of cars on the ramp bravely worked their way around the traffic, inching up to the front to cut over into the lanes that were moving. Smart people, I thought. They get where they are going, which is NOT, apparently, to the air show, and free up space on the ramp for other cars whose drivers want a place to sit and nap.

Me: “Look, honey. That car has made it past all of these suckers going to the airshow and is now merrily driving down the highway unencumbered! What a smart person!”

Mike: (as he is inching his way forward to do the same thing) “Oh, sure and everyone sitting in this line thinks he is a complete ass because he has cut in line like he is more important than they are.”

Me: “No, they don’t. He isn’t going the same place as everyone in this line. He is making room for others who want to go to the airshow. He’s getting out of everyone’s way.”

Mike: “Well, they don’t know that. They just think he is self-important and should wait his turn like everyone else.”

I wait silently while my spouse does the intelligent thing by colluding with another driver to cross the small grassy median between the ramp and the lane of stacked up traffic. They both make it just fine and the other guy is off and running, but there is now a disturbance in The Force around my husband, who apparently feels guilty because other people are still sitting on the ramp. This disturbance has attracted the attention of our local constabulary. Literally out of nowhere a very loud robotic voice shouts ‘MOVE OUT OF THE WAY! THE MEDIAN IS FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY AND IS NOT FOR YOU TO DRIVE ON!!’   Guiltily, Mike gets out of the way for one of  the Washington Highway Patrol’s finest, who drives by without even a nod in his direction, likely on his way to his favorite lunch spot. If that cop could see Puddler’s bottom, he’d agree that this IS an emergency and stop harassing reasonable people who are just trying to get out of everyone else’s way and move on down the road.

As we manage to reach the speed limit, we sigh with relief and say a prayer of thanks to the traffic Gods who took care of that little hurdle. We decide we’ll park down at the Thea Foss Park at the end of the waterway, walk to the marina, and row puddler down to the public ramp for dingies and kayaks.

We sail by this little park every time we leave the marina.

We are almost there when Mike gets off the wrong exit and we are stopped by road construction. I sigh heavily. Mike rolls his eyes and takes his foot off the brake to accelerate. We’ll have to turn around and go back. Then we hear the noise. It is coming from the engine compartment, I think. It’s sort of a grinding noise, with undertones of  ‘death rattle’ and light notes of burning rubber smell.  I glance at Mike, who I fear is on the verge of hysteria. He’s either going to laugh maniacally or begin cursing. His jaw is set. He pulls over, opens the hood and does some man  stuff. Then closes the hood and decides it was probably the brakes; that they need new pads, and that whatever was making that deathly rattle has gone away now. A veil of denial descends upon us and we both agree that all we want is to get safely to the marina, collect our little boat, and go home.  We carry on.

Down at the park the weather is fine and we enjoy a brisk walk to the marina, only having our way blocked a couple of times by a huge gang of Harley riders and more construction. We enjoy a pleasant row down to the park from Moonrise and arrive just as some kayakers are launching. As we pull Puddler out of the water, a man from their group offers to help pull the dingy up the considerable slope to the curb. Excellent! Things are looking up! Mike goes and gets the truck and we load Puddler into the back, ready to go! We love how easy it is to hoist her up into the bed of this behemoth and just shut the gate. She fits like a proverbial glove! Mike inserts the key into the ignition and turns the key. Click. We look at one another. He turns it again. Click. We are parked sideways in a loading zone.

In my mind I think ‘Great. The starter has gone out.’.  Now I know why we should have turned around and gone back home before we ever thought about getting on that highway. Shades of a 1964 Ford Fairlane begin a slow dance in my memory. It’s all coming back to me now. 1980. The Ford. The Starter. The trip from Hell. My frozen feet.   This must be what it’s like to have flashbacks. That’s a story for another day. At least that Ford was red.

Puddler fits so very nicely in the back of this truck! If you are going to be stuck with a non-starting truck, this is the view you want.

At Mike’s request I rummage around behind the seat and find some jumper cables. I know they are not going to help, but it’s worth a try. A couple drives up with a large aluminum canoe on top of their newer truck ( also a Ford, I might add). Roger and Erin Legg from Tacoma are bringing her family canoe down for a little paddling and Roger agrees to help Mike see if the car can be jump started. Of course, it cannot. So they do some other man type stuff under the hood, trying to find some kind of voodoo magic that will work, but finally agree that it’s something about the starter. I could have told them that, but men, after all, have their own ways of knowing.

Roger chants man voodoo words while Mike spits into the engine. Erin acts as their 'familiar'. The magic does not work. The Ford does not start.

The crescent wrench Mike found in the glove box failed to work its magic on this starter, no matter how many times Mike struck the thing with the wrench, and no matter what 'magic' words he shouted.

We chat for a bit and I find out that Erin is a student in the School Counseling program at University of Puget Sound and, since I used to have student interns from that program, that’s pretty cool. She used to teach English in Prague and since we have a daughter who longs to have a job where she can travel, that’s pretty cool, too. Mike and Roger have histories with the Air Force in common and they both look like they know something about cars. At least old cars.  We exchange contact info and help them launch their canoe. I think to myself that if we’re going to be stranded with a huge, broken truck in a loading zone with Puddler in the back, feeling like a couple of Okies,  at least it’s nice to meet friendly people with whom we have something in common. It’s always best to try to find something good in these situations.

After contacting our friends and their insurance company, we decide I would row Puddler back to her place by Moonrise. Her bottom, while foul, will have to wait for another day. Mike will stay with the truck visiting with passers-by until the tow company comes and our friend, Chere, picks us up and takes us to lunch. The tide is with me and I have another pleasant row back down the Foss Waterway, back to Moonrise and a little time to myself on the boat.

I'm supposed to be looking forlorn, but what I'm really thinking is 'Excellent! On the water at last!'

Lunch with Chere was delightful. It was great to visit with her as it’s been too long since we had coffee together. So what if I overindulged in carbohydrates? Just another nail in this day’s coffin.  We drove back to our place and Chere stayed to walk around the garden for a bit and finish our visit. Mike retired to the bedroom for his much-needed nap. When Chere left I made myself useful by loading up the car with a bunch of crap to take to Goodwill. After a day like this it’s nice to end on a positive note. I figured the day was done, nothing else could happen. I was well on my way to putting this day in perspective until Mike joined me in the garage and said one thing:

“I have food poisoning.”

And that is where we stand. At least I ordered the fish.

 

 

 

 

Oh, My Aching Back!

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Freshly 'seafinned' grab rails. Pretty! And smooth!

And hands,and neck! Know what I hate? I hate refinishing wood. Okay, I don’t REALLY hate it, but I’ve had just about enough of it for now, especially if I have to lean over and do it with my head in an upside down position. Let me get through this current bottle of ibuprofen before I tackle another such project. The brightwork on Moonrise, our Cal 34, was looking not-so-bright, if you get my drift. So for the last few days we’ve been working on that.

Know what else I hate? I hate Cetol. Yes, that is right. I am coming out of the closet and going on record to say that I really don’t like this stuff. I know it’s alleged to be the drug of choice for boat woodwork, but the problem I have with Cetol is that people generally just add layer upon layer, year after year, without sanding the old stuff off. Then it looks like crap and begins to peel. I mean why not just paint your beautiful teak with ugly brown paint? It will end up looking the same.  And that was the state of the teak back rests and handles on Moonrise’s exterior. They looked ugly, and she is such a pretty boat she deserves better. So we commenced to sanding. And sanding, and sanding.

Unfortunately for me, I’ve refinished a lot of wood in my life. So much so that I can get pretty detailed about how much sanding is required before one is ready to put on a new finish. It’s not enough, in my book, to sand through the top layer of stuff and then call it good. I want it all off. So the sanding takes a long time and the fingers get really stiff, the skin on the hands begins to resemble the sandpaper being used. After a while it’s hard to tell where the skin leaves off and the paper begins. Eventually we got most of it off, and while it’s not the perfection I had in my own mind, having envisioned wood that looked like new,  it’s ‘good enough’ even for me. Time to put on the new finish.

Frankly, I did not want to again put Cetol on the wood work on Moonrise because I hate the idea of having to do all that sanding again and I hate the way it looks when you don’t sand the old stuff off. Great minds think as one, even without talking about it sometimes, and Mike came home with a pint of Daly’s SeaFin Teak Oil. This product is very popular up here with the wooden boat crowd and I can see why! It’s just very easy to use and leaves a beautiful finish. To maintain it, you just wipe more on with a rag, or, if feeling extra frisky, with a sanding pad. It soaks into the wood and hardens, leaving a nice glowing finish that is skid proof and water proof and allegedly needs renewing only once a year.

Our treatment of choice for our teak rails and seat backs.

 

So Moonrise is looking mighty spiffy just now with her freshly ‘Seafinned’ wood. Only problem is that although we taped off the hand rails, some of the product still leaked underneath the tape and we cannot figure out how to remove it from the cabin top. Of course, Moonrise is a boat from the 1970’s, so her non-skid has blemishes and spots like most middle aged skin. Eventually these will probably fade with the rest of the battle scars. But we’d like to scrub them off if possible. Researching the interweb Mike found that acetone was supposed to be the treatment of choice. I’m out 13$ on that idea because it didn’t work one bit. I’m going to try mineral spirits next, as that’s what the stuff has in it and that’s what is recommended by the manufacturer for uncured spills. Ours are definitely cured, but it can’t hurt to try. If you have experience removing this kind of spot from your deck. please post a reply here. Otherwise I might have to accidentally spill Seafin Teak Oil all over the nonskid on Moonrise, giving her a nice mild ‘tan’, but making the spots effectively disappear. Think of it as self-tanning lotion for boats.

Our nephew, Reid, fishing for Salmon off cockpit of Moonrise. Later I had him fish off the other side so I could finish the teak backrest. The fish were not biting that day.

 

S/V Who Knows?

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The still nameless Ericson 25

Here’s the latest on Andrew’s boat. I know you’ve all been holding your breath for this update, right? Get some popcorn, because this post is mostly movie clips.

We sailed over to Gig Harbor last Friday to pick up the boat and the whole thing was just about perfect. The weather was warm and windy, which is all one can ask for around here on a summer evening.  I dropped Mike and Andrew off on the dock where the still nameless Ericson 25 was waiting, then stood by on Moonrise while they got everything ready for the maiden voyage. I was pleased to have been able to navigate Moonrise in unknown territory, around lots of expensive boats, and get Mike and Andrew off at the right slip without ‘incident’. Whew!

Out in the passage, they raised the sails for the first time on the little Ericson. You’ll notice the main looks a little wonky. No worries, that’s been adjusted since this video was taken. It looks loads better now. Notice the Viking on the main sail! This is pretty cool because Andrew is a student at Western Washington University, home of the Vikings!

We arranged to have a slip in our marina for a couple of months while we figure out where the boat will be stored when Andrew is in Bellingham at school. The Gods were smiling on this whole situation because as a new boat owner Andrew has a lot to learn and we’d like to be the ones to teach him. A temporary slip was found on the dock behind Moonrise. Turns out to be the exact slip we had for Moonrise when we first moved into that marina a few years back. Andrew’s boat is almost directly behind Moonrise, giving him access to everything we have on our boat, and putting us right there if he needs help. Excellent!

Remember those videos you took of your kids when they were babies? Or that your parents took of you, if you happen to be Tate and Dani, or Vlad and Atilla. You know the ones: Watch while little snookums picks his nose!, Watch while little snookums takes his first steps and whacks himself on the table corner. Watch little snookums sleeping.  Okay. Well watch while big snookums takes his own boat out of the slip alone for the first time. (Now he just backs the boat out of the slip, but he was not sure about it the first time. I love how they toddle first, then they run!) I’m filming from Moonrise. Bear with us. We’re being parents here.  There are a lot more video clips where this came from. At least we’ve progressed from watching him sleep and if this video is not more interesting than watching paint dry, it’s at least mercifully short.

As an aside, I sometimes wonder about the number of photos we take of our kids. These statistics tell the tale: number of photos we have of Moonrise under sail after owning her for 4 years: 2, both taken in the last 3 months.   Number of photos of Andrew’s still nameless boat, under sail, after owning her for less than 1 week: 234,490. Hmmm.

The proverbial sunset sail.

It’s been several days of sailing together, teaching Andrew how to anchor out, and watching while he learns to single-hand the boat. We notice he is falling in love with this boat and it makes our collective hearts swell with pride. This part of our cunning plan is working.

Here’s another stunning video of us stealing Andrew’s wind, talking smack about how much faster our boat is than his boat:

 

In yet another indication that this was the right boat for Andrew, today a dinghy pretty much fell out of the sky and into my lap. I awoke this morning and the first thought that popped into my mind was that Andrew was planning to sail up to Seattle to see his sister and he doesn’t yet have a dinghy. Pulling Puddler, our dinghy, would take about a knot off his speed, at least. Plus, we like to have Puddler available ourselves. I wanted a dinghy in decent shape and I didn’t want to spend more than about 50$ for it. So I opened Craigslist over coffee. And there it was, posted less than 1 hour before, probably right as I was waking up. By noon we were putting it into the back of Andrew’s car, and it fit perfectly.

So, aside from some odds and ends, he’s pretty much set in terms of learning how to sail his boat and use it to travel to exotic locations such as Seattle and Bellingham. He’s lining up crew so he won’t be alone at first, which relieves our minds. And what about Mike and me? We’ve been sailing a lot, too. Here’s a quick clip of our sail down to Penrose State Park for the 4th of July. We are not real fans of that holiday and like to get away from the noise and crowds. We were the only boat on our side of the park. Perfect. And we had winds gusting to 25 knots on the way down. More perfect.

And while we were there, we had a little adventure. Or rather, Mike had a little adventure and I watched him. Then I had to buy him a present.

The view from the top of the mast is stunning. Plus, I hold Mike’s life in my hands. Not really. He’s actually very safe:

And now, relax to the soothing visuals of fireworks over Commencement Bay. It’ s much more soothing to watch the video than it was being there with hundreds of boats, some unlit and small, all over the bay. What a circus. I can’t wait for the 4th to be on a weekend again, so we can come home the following day and miss the zoo in the bay.