Category Archives: Preparing to cruise

Precious, Practical Pudgy

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Today we took a break from all the home projects we are doing in order to get the house ready for renting. Sometimes you just need to remember why you are choosing this particular path in life, because this part of the process is such a lot of work and one leap of faith after another.  I guess if it were easy, everyone would do it, or so I understand.

We needed to remember this.

We needed to remember this.

Lately we’ve both been feeling a little overwhelmed at how much we’ve bitten off for ourselves by moving our departure date up so significantly. It’s cramping us a lot more than we thought it would. All of the things we still need to get for Galapagos, like safety gear, a dinghy, and a life raft (only the very tip of that iceberg of a list), all need to be bought in a much smaller time frame. In addition, we will have to put several thousand dollars into getting our home ready to go, and our other financial obligations haven’t disappeared, either. Deeply into the yard landscaping re-do, a huge project,  we both wanted to get away from the house for a day. We needed a little Galapagos time.

What a generous and touching surprise!

What a generous and touching surprise!

So we hopped down to Galapagos to spend the day on the boat and what did we find upon our arrival? Some thoughtful and generous fellow cruiser had left us a gift in the cockpit! No kidding! Someone left us a lovely gift of several books of cruising charts for the Strait of Georgia and other areas of British Columbia. I tell you what. This could not have happened at a better time for us. When things like that happen, I consider it a sign that we are doing the right thing and all will be well. It really made our month! Thank you, anonymous chart-giving fairy! We can really use that kind of encouragement about now. We appreciate the gift and will certainly pay it forward ourselves.

We had a perfect ‘light air sail’, which means we sat bobbing around Commencement Bay for a couple of hours enjoying the warmest fall day we can remember, then headed back to the dock. We were hoping to hail our new friends Donn and Kerry Christianson on their Baba 35 S/V Brigadoon, and take them up on their offer to try out their Portland Pudgy dinghy. Check out their blog. They have their own cunning plan.

Practical and, yes, adorable.

The Portland Pudgy is an all purpose dinghy that can be used as a life raft. It’s also allegedly a good rowing dinghy. We need a new dinghy for Galapagos before we make the big left turn. Our Walker Bay is perfect for around here, but it’s probably not the right dinghy for what we want to do. If cruisers consider the dinghy their car, which they do, then our Walker Bay is the equivalent of a one speed bike, especially as we have no outboard motor on it. This summer on our trip to Vancouver Island it became clear many times that we at least need a good outboard unless we want to row really far all the time.

Most cruisers use an inflatable boat with an outboard but at this point we are not sure that we are ‘most cruisers’. With the Portland Pudgy, you get an unsinkable boat that is easy to row (unlike inflatables), that won’t get punctured, will take a long time to deteriorate from the sun, is dead stable, and that can be outfitted with a complete life raft system if you so desire. You can also get a sailing rig for it (which you can do with our Walker Bay as well) The whole thing is practical and well engineered.

This kind of stability makes getting in and out much easier.

We took Donn and Kerry’s out for a row and were very happy with how it performed. It’s not particularly light weight, but it rides high in the water unless it’s fully loaded. We really like that the seat can be positioned for one person in the boat, or for two, simply by flopping it over. And we also like that the oarlocks are easily repositioned and are well engineered so that you can really give the oars a good pull and they stay put in the oarlocks. We have trouble with that on our dinghy and it’s dead annnoying.

The seat is positioned for two people in the boat.

We found that the dinghy didn’t track as well with two people aboard, and it’s a beefy little boat so you really get an upper arm workout rowing two adults around. Still, the idea of this ‘one stop shopping’ kind of dinghy is appealing to us. Mike would love a sailing dinghy, and we both enjoy rowing as well. Still, these are not cheap. The basic boat is just under $3000. Add another $1300 for the sailing kit, and then add another $2000 if you want the life raft outfit. Running lights and electrical are another 500$. My eyes begin to glaze over until I think about the cost of a life raft all by itself: about $4000-$5000. And at that price, you hope you never have to use it. If we have to spend that kind of money, we could do worse than to get ourselves one of these. 

 

 

 

In Danger of Getting Old

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I was lying on my back on the floor, head hanging over the top of a hard yoga roll, the kind people use to relieve back tension. My neck was killing me because I’d been going nonstop for three weeks getting ready for this big garage sale we just had. I knew as soon as the sale was over, my neck would be suddenly better. I always seem to hold my stress in my neck, as though I’d really like for my conscious self to be separated from my body.  That’s when this thought came sidling up to my conscious mind: If it weren’t for this whole sailing plan, I would be in real danger of getting old.

A life filled with all kinds of celebrations.

A life filled with all kinds of celebrations.

Not just any kind of ‘old’. We’re all going to get chronologically old. We can’t help it, living here on the planet as we do. No, I’m talking about the kind of ‘old’  where your best days are behind you; the kind of old where you have ‘stories’, most of which revolve around the glory days when the children were too young for the world to have damaged them yet.  I am referring to the kind of ‘old’ that causes people under the age of 35 to have glazed over eyes as you begin with, ‘When I was your age….blah blah blah…walked five miles through snow drifts the size of Everest… blah blah blah…television…blah…rock and roll..blah blah’.

It occurred to me that if it were not for this plan to go sailing, I might grow old and die right here in this house, surrounded by all the stories of the detritus of a life well-lived in the past, but only marginally existing in the present. If it weren’t for this little cunning plan, I might drift aimlessly through to the future and out the door into the beyond.  I shed exactly two small tears and as they hit the floor, I got up and went back outside where the rain was ruining what was left of our garage sale. How darkly poetic.

One of many tables.

One of many tables.

If you’ve been reading our blog for long, you know that I never planned to have a garage sale of any kind. My plan has been to have an estate agent come in and take care of things for me so I wouldn’t have to deal with things like going through baby clothes, toys, collectibles – all the THINGS that have created their own special gravitational pull over the course of a long and happy marriage and family life. While we were away for our month on Galapagos, that plan began to change gradually. I began to feel as though I could mentally, physically, and especially emotionally handle it, and, in fact, that part of me looked forward to it. Life has so much more room to breathe on the boat, so much space to be nourished and to grow robust in its fullness. August has been a month of flinging open closet and attic doors and ruthlessly clearing out things that I thought were special, but turned out to be average.

Claire made this shark head when she was working for a 'sharky' insurance company. I didn't think this was special, but my friend did.

Claire made this shark head when she was working for a ‘sharky’ insurance company. I didn’t think this was special anymore, but my friend did. She will be a shark for Halloween.

During our month of peace and quiet, boat swinging at anchor, bears on the shore, the better part of me began to emerge in about the third week;  ready to engage in the process of letting go. These things simply cannot be rushed if one is to participate joyfully from a place of readiness. Sometimes it is earnestly hard to trust the internal process. We struggle to become something we are not long before the time of blossoming into our dream for ourselves. We watch what others do and say ‘why can’t I?’, and yet, we cannot. We listen to our own internal critic and say, ‘I must.’, and yet we don’t. Others cry, ‘Procrastination! Just do it! It’s so easy! You’ll be so glad!’, and yet, they are wrong because timing is everything.

I’ve said it before: all people deserve to have their own level of suffering and struggle before they can be ready to move on to something new. This is true in all things, in my experience, even while it is frustrating for both the observer and the observed. While others who have gone before us can encourage and cheer from the side, it is a rare thing that their experience changes ours. I have lived long enough to know this. And still it has been difficult to have patience with myself. It has also been fearful to think of what the future would hold if we did not take some kind of leap into it; it we did not hold tight to that rope swing and jump off the rock into the pool of the future. Either jump or keep standing still forever in that place. There is no going back.  Poised on a precipice, it’s easy for fear to get the better of us.

I jumped. Now gone are the special hand made quilts, the 26 Beatrix Potter figurines, the toddler castle set, dolls, jewelry I never wear, a zillion tools we don’t need, and probably 50 frames and framed prints. Those flew out the door. Dumb bells, a skate board, and a knife in a sheath went home with a 10 year old boy and his dad. Gone is a cement leaf planter I made that would have sold for over 200$ in a garden store. I got 30$ for it, but it will be enjoyed by another gardener for a long time. I batted barely an eye at any of this.

A dealer bought all the figurines that were not already sold via my Facebook event ad.

A dealer bought all the figurines that were not already sold via my Facebook event ad.

And my sister, who came and worked all day at the sale,  buoyed me up when I got a bit emotional seeing an old friend from those glory days of Andrew’s young boyhood. It was wonderful to see her, but I was dangerously close to feeling old in that moment, as was she. I’m afraid tears began sort of trickling down my face and I had to pull myself up short. She took home a special picture I had a deal of trouble parting with. It had hung in Claire’s bedroom her entire childhood and I still loved it. As a symbol of our family when we were young, it was perfect.  But it cannot go on the boat, and it was sitting in the back of a closet. I feel good that Rosemary will have it to remind her of how much fun we had back in those days, having tea and watching our kids play ‘restaurant’ together. Life is even more precious when our stories are shared by others.

clairespicture

This was always above Claire’s bed as she grew up.

We’ve been in this planning mode for several years now, dreaming and making small moves toward the day we get to cut the dock lines and go adventuring. We sold Moonrise, bought Galapagos, and all of that was easy compared to dealing with a family home. But, onward we go. We are making the leap into the unknown and trusting that we land on our feet. This is the year of having faith that things will work out, if not as we expect, then at least well enough for us to continue. By the skin our our teeth we might just avoid becoming the kind of old that shouts ‘our best days are behind us’.

The Top Five Fears

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When people find out we are planning to move aboard Galapagos and go sailing on the ‘big water’ across oceans, the first thing people generally say is, ‘Wow’, frequently followed by, ‘Aren’t you scared?’.  And the answer to that is, ‘Oh, hell to the yes!’.  But probably not for all the reasons they might think.fear-clipart-clipart-fear-face-icon-512x512-92a3

The fears generally listed by these well-meaning folks include whales, the boat sinking, rogue waves, storms, pirates, sharks… you know the routine. I like to remind them that due to the fact that I live in an urban area with freeways more congested than a smoker’s heart, I play odds worse than any of those things every day when I drive my car. I also fly to distant lands on airplanes even though…9/11. Go figure. So while those kinds of fears can pop up, they are fleeting at best and my ability to put things into perspective tamps down any panic that might try to surface. No, those things do not deter me particularly. We’ll be as prepared as we can be, as careful as we can be, and we’re already good at turning tail and running from bad weather and things with large teeth, so our self-preservation skills are high.

And yet, I live with a certain amount of trepidation, if not fear and loathing, about this huge life change. These fears are always hanging just out of reach over my head. I cannot seem to put them to rest completely, although I do have plans that mitigate these fears. These are the things that could keep me up at night if I gave into them. Since people are always asking, here are the top five of my inner most secret fears and the steps I’m taking to mitigate them.

See this guy? I’m not afraid of him. Not even a little bit.

Number 1:
Getting out of my comfort zone. And I’m not talking about sailing. I’m talking about being a dumb American. Truth is, I am a dyed in the wool American with deeply held beliefs that reflect that heritage. I am an individualist to the core, I love my Starbucks, I have a very comfortable middle-class existence that, on the whole, is pretty easy.  I speak only English. I am a walking stereotype in so many ways and don’t I know it.

Mike looks forward to learning Spanish. We are planning to do Spanish language school down in La Paz.  It would be politically correct to say that I look forward to this, too.  But that would be a lie because languages are not really my strong suit. On the other hand I do not expect people to speak English in a country where that is not their native language, so I’m going to have to put on my big girl panties and just do it. Why can’t I just get some kind of Spanish language chip inserted into a slot in my head?

Also, although I am an American, I am smart enough to know that means that the most basic things I believe to be true about life are not necessarily shared by people in other countries whose cultures are less ‘individual’ based and more ‘group’ based, less ‘throw caution to the wind’ based and more ‘mitigate all probable outcomes’ based. I don’t want to be that crass and egotistical American that always expects things to be just like at home. (I mean, why bother to travel if it’s all going to be just like at home, right?) I am just smart enough to know how ignorant I am. So I’m listening to a university course on using cultural intelligence to adapt to being in other countries. It’s a great course which I would recommend to anyone who is interested in learning some of the basic differences between world cultures. Maybe I won’t embarrass myself too much.

See that little door? It’s narrow. For small people.

Number 2:
Gaining weight. That’s right. What is actually worse to me than being culturally obtuse is being physically obese. My body and I have not ever worked well together. Several years ago, when we first started planning for this phase in our lives, I decided I needed to become more comfortable in the old bod because living on a boat is no fun when you literally have to squeeze through the passageways. I had to give up many of the foods that people rely on around the world, like wheat and sugar. I can eat wheat on occasion now, but if I eat it regularly I’m in trouble. (It causes physical symptoms beyond weight gain for me.)

Thus began a long period of learning, healing, and working with this physical thing I live in and through.  For the first time in my life I am at a weight that pleases me, I can wear clothes that please me, and I have the tools I need in order to maintain this overall happiness with the body I was given. Some people would think that this fear is frivolous and vain. They would say ‘just accept yourself as you are’. But ‘accepting’ this tendency of mine is how I ended up 50 pounds heavier than I am now  with plenty of joint pain to boot so no thanks.  No, if I want to live a long and healthy life and not have to give up the things I love to do, like easily fit into a kayak, and climb around on a boat, then the weight must remain off the body and my diet must remain clean with an occasional indulgence.

I have worked very hard at this for many years, and yet each time we take a trip on the boat, I gain weight. This is because I see it as a ‘vacation’ from my normal life,  eat crap food filled with carbs and sugar, and drink beer. This will never do.  I cannot be a cruiser who lives on rice, beans, tortillas and beer. All those cruiser social functions you read about on blogs? They leave me with a horrible mixture of excitement for the social aspect, and dread for the ever-present foods involved.

To make my physical self happy, I  depend on walking at least 2 miles every day, and doing yoga in a sweltering hot studio a few times a week. (Should have no trouble in the South Pacific, right?) My body is a finely tuned instrument. I have begun honing my “weight maintenance while traveling skills” and I am ready to put them to the test during our cruise in July. I’ll blog more later about what has worked for me and what hasn’t and this will help keep me on track.

The one important trick your doctor doesn’t want you to know about if you want to maintain your weight anywhere you go and still live a full and interesting life filled with delicious foods? Take your scale with you. Use it every day. I have this Nature Spirit travel scale. It works and it doesn’t take up much room. It is my best friend.

Our son, Andrew, graduated from Western Washington University last week.

Number 3:
Missing my family. This is pretty much self explanatory. My darkest scenarios include something happening to a child or my mom when we are in a remote area and can’t easily get to an airport.  I soothe myself by calculating the odds in my head. Calculations will put me to sleep every single time. And we keep a high balance of travel points on the credit card in case of emergency. That’s all I can do. Because out of all the fears, this one would actually keep me at the dock if I let it, even though the kids are grown. Even though our daughter is only in this country 6 months out of the year. Even though our son lives in Bellingham. It’s not rational. It’s maternal.

Mr. Sun.

Number 4:
One or both of us not being able to tolerate the sun. I actually worry about Mike in terms of this more than about myself because he has had some symptoms that I worry are reactions to too much sun. Yes, we know how to use sunscreen, we have a hard dodger that will protect us from sun and weather, etc. We will invest in good sun prevention. I still worry.

On our Cal 34, Moonrise, I felt like a confident partner. I remind myself that it took awhile for that to happen.

Number 5:
Not being an equal partner on the boat. At home, we are pretty equal partners in terms of decision making, spending money, all the day to day things. Our roles in the house are both clearly defined and fluid as the situation mandates. We both have our projects and interests, and we do very well at parallel play.

Being on the boat changes things. Mike is truly in charge on the boat and that means that I am…not.  As much as I love our boat and love sailing, this trip is pretty much Mike’s rodeo in terms of the day to day operation of the boat.  I worry know that I am not a good follower, even if he is a good leader. Being a ‘follower’ is not my nature. We are two leaders, sometimes both trying to lead and getting in each other’s way, usually because the fact that I should be ‘following’ doesn’t even occur to me. So while Mike can step easily into the role of Captain on the boat, I’m not yet sure what role I will be stepping into. I need time on the boat – continuous time- in order to flesh this out and get comfortable on her and learn her systems before I can do much more than set a course, steer, and tweak a sail or two. I think that was starting to happen last year during our vacation, but then we had to come home.

Fortunately we have a good marriage from which to begin this trip, and for both of us the marriage is more important than pretty much anything else. So we’ll work through these things. We got a heads up on what our challenges would be during our trip last year bringing Galapagos home. We’ve gone over a few of our experiences with each other since then and worked out solutions to those problems. We’ll get a chance to practice a lot during our July cruise.

We’re counting down the days!