Tag Archives: Andromeda

Growing Pains

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Working on this boat is taking on a life of its own. Anyone who has taken on a project like this, whether it be remodeling a house or refitting a large boat, knows that feeling of being pulled into the completely organic nature of this thing. Like anything of this magnitude, all parts work together to create a whole, and sometimes it’s hard to know where one project starts and the other ends. Or maybe I’m thinking too hard about this. Maybe the problem here is that we’re just trying to do too much too fast. Whatever, because life has begun to have it’s own kind of rhythm. Work week, then arrange dog sitter, then drive to Astoria for a day and a half of work on the boat, punctuated by trips to the marine store, rooting around in the boat for supplies, and longing glances in the general direction of the water. Then afterwards, there’s that long drive home that feels twice as long because we’re both dog tired and just want the comfort of our bed.

Looking good.

So with the engine in and the boat in the water, we turn our attention to sails and electronics. Mike, anxious to get this boat out on the water in the river, was making noises about taking her out this weekend. I was sorely tempted except for one small thing: no depth sounder. (There is a transducer, but nothing for it to send information to.) If we were in our home territory where we know the local waters this would not be an issue. And yes, we do have charts of the Columbia. We have enough charts to know that the sands shift and that there is plenty of water that looks deep enough but isn’t. Call me chicken little but while I could see my way clear to going without a chart plotter, I didn’t really want to leave the dock not knowing how deep the water is, Captain Cook and historical sailors not withstanding. There is a reason I was born in this century. Between my misgivings and the weather (read: Fog and rain with high winds) we stayed at the dock, disappointed but not aground on a mud bank somewhere.

You should be able to see land behind that boat. But one of Astoria’s famous fog banks prevents it.

So Mike has been shopping for electronics and has finally made his choices. He tried to get me involved in the shopping process for the chart plotter but soon realized his mistake. Not content to stick with the Garmin we know and love, I had to begin looking at other brands because I like to get ALL the information before I make a choice. We both quickly realized that if I participated at this level, we would never purchase one. So I told him what was important to me: easy to use, not reliant on touchscreen controls, large enough for me to see, reliable – not necessarily in that order. I opined that since we’d always had Garmin and were happy with them, we should probably stick with that because we’d already know how to use the thing. Mike wanted something he could integrate with radar and, knowing my history with electronic devices, he agreed that relying on touchscreen controls in the cockpit would be tantamount to asking for trouble. So he chose his Garmin 820 XS chart plotter and all is well as we await delivery of that item.

Meanwhile, why get only the chart plotter when you also want and need a new radio? You see how this project grows like the chickweed in my garden? Look away for a moment and it’s in full bloom everywhere.  So we are now the proud owners of a new Standard Marine AIS system that I understand is pretty cool. Even as I type this post he sits by my side, joyously thumbing through the owners manual, breaking into my thoughts on occasion with a tidbit or two about how wonderful this is going to be. You know, sadly, my eyes tend to begin to glaze over when he talks about it but I understand it has remote microphones and a big loud speaker so we can signal to other boats in the fog. How much fun is this going to be? I’ll let him tell you all about it so I don’t steal his thunder too much. Please ask ALL the technical questions you want in the comments section and he can wax poetic about his new friends. And mine. Yes, of course, they are also mine. After all, it’s a community property state.

We’ve got a practically new autopilot the previous owner installed shortly before selling the boat (I know! Ow! We totally know how that feels.) So all that’s left is the radar. We already have radar on the boat and it actually works, although it looks like it was probably built the same year the boat was built: 1975.  I’m pretty sure we’ll be getting new radar as well, so these systems will be integrated at the helm and below. Woot! We will be in electronics heaven, at least we hope so.

Less exciting but worth it in the end, is the new transmission shifting system he has ordered. When he was putting the steering system together he and the mechanic noticed how tight everything was in the steering pedestal. They were not amused or satisfied. The gear shifters are original, as is the system attached to them. He was going to replace this system eventually, but I convinced him that ‘eventually’ was now. Since he wants to mess with that steering area as little as possible, once seemed better than twice, so a new system is coming.

The offending area and old style system of cables.

This is the part that will be replaced with a new system that will allow more room because there will be fewer cables. The shifting should be smoother because nothing will be impinging on anything else, at least that’s the theory.

While Mike perseverated over his choice of electronics, I was itching to get a look at the sails. That’s right, we’d never seen them. Just like we’d never sailed the boat, or even had it on the water when we bought it. We saw that they existed and knew that unless they were new, we’d be replacing them before going on a long voyage anyway. So if they were serviceable until then, cool. These sails are so large I need a dolly to move them in their bags. They take up a ton of room so I really want them out of my garage and back on the boat where they belong.  Laid out on the gravel at home I was glad to see they were in good condition. The foresail has been repaired once but the repair is well done and is holding nicely. The main is in good condition also, and the mizzen sail looks practically new. When we are ready to go offshore for a long period of time, we’ll have them checked over and will buy new if we need to. Until then, these are going to work just fine.

We got the head sail put back on the boat and saved the other two sails for next weekend.

Mike guides the sail while I crank at the winch. Wait. Did I get the hard part of this bargain?

While we were on the boat this weekend we got a pleasant surprise visit from Kurt Yoder, Steve Yoder’s cousin. He popped in to say hi, talk house batteries with Mike and get a look at Mike’s engine room. I was so glad he did because he was the voice of reason on replacing the house batteries. Mike had a plan to replace them so his charging system would be more streamlined. But when he tested one of the Lifeline AGM batteries to see how much charge it was holding, it was holding at 98%. These things are really pricey and also weigh about 100 pounds each, so replacing them falls under the adage of ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’.

In the man cave with Kurt Yoder.

Seriously, these things are about 9 years old, a fact that you must call the manufacturer to discover because it is hidden in the esoteric lettering system etched on the side of the battery. Is there some reason why you need to be a member of a club with a secret handshake just to figure out the date of manufacture on your marine batteries? Why can’t they just use the actual date like regular people? So they are well past their replace date. But they haven’t been used heavily as there is no refrigeration on the boat. We ran the house on battery power only while aboard this weekend and the batteries held fine. Maybe they will poop out when we get a refrigerator in there, but until they poop out, we don’t need to replace them. We figure we’ll have to replace them anyway when we go on the long voyage, so why replace them now? This is called ‘knowing when to stop’ and our bank account really appreciates it.

Some kind of code that is actually a date of manufacture.

You may recall that our boat came with a liferaft. Good thing we didn’t consider that a selling point because it was supposed to be serviced by 2003. Which it wasn’t. But the real hilarity was revealed when Mike went to remove it from the boat and found that it weighs 120 pounds. I am not making that up. He actually put it on the scale at home. I think he used the halyard from the mizzen sail to get the thing off the boat. What makes me laugh is the directions for using this thing:

Just lightly toss this into the sea when you have an emergency. No worries!

That’s right, it couldn’t be easier. Just lightly toss it over the back rail and you are good to go. Maybe they are counting on the strength of adrenaline to hurk this thing in an emergency. Am I missing something here? That’s 120 pounds we don’t need to be carrying. The jury is still out on whether that will be replaced. I don’t know if the newer ones weigh this much, but if they do I can’t imagine how anyone would get the thing off the boat in a big sea.

In yet other news Mike got started on replumbing the aft head. We haven’t had a holding tank to use so we’ve had to go up to the marina bathroom when the need arose. Remember we took about 30 feet of old hose off the boat when stripping things out of that engine room. We were glad to see it go. Now we have to put some of it back, but he’s got a redesign in mind that should suffice until we decide about remodeling that area of the boat.

And the name of the boat? Still undecided and we’re having fun coming up with ideas. I have a list of words going and we add to it whenever something strikes our fancy. Occasionally Mike throws one out that I just have to decline, however. His latest attempt was ‘Ford Fairlane’. Here’s why:20140327_2

I’ll tell you the story about that car sometime.

 

 

Streaming the Consciousness of Names

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Now that Mike is finished with the engine refit and we have the boat back in the water, we get to enjoy a rare weekend of downtime. During this soggy March in Washington State, the wettest March on record (oh, ululations of profound joy, right?), downtime really means no driving down to Astoria and no big projects. Just taxes and catching up on indoor projects we’ve left unfinished. Like the curtains. Today I am staying by the warm stove finishing up the dyeing process for the salon curtains and, once again,  thinking about boat names.

Why does it seem like naming a boat is about as hard as naming your first born child? Now that Andromeda is coming to life after her long sleep and heart/lung transplant, we need to conjur up a new name for her. The name ‘Andromeda’, while beautiful, does not really suit me.  Mike likes the name better than I do, but it’s important that we both feel equally good about this name, and this boat. This vessel represents a complete change in how we live our lives and how we see our near future. Just as we are letting go of unused ‘stuff’, clearing out our lives in preparation for the new life we are creating, she needs to be released of whatever has outlived its purpose as well. This includes her historical names. She must be purified in a way, and made ready for the next phase of her life, too.

One of the pieces of clutter to be released: this ancient emergency beacon. We will buy a new one.

One of the pieces of clutter to be released: this ancient emergency beacon. We will buy a new one.

Our first boat was named ‘Saucy Sue’. Like the name of our blog, this was a reference to BlackAdder, the BBC TV show of yore. ‘Saucy Sue’ was a perfect name for our Catalina 27. She was decidedly ‘saucy’ as she bounded along at a right good clip, heeled over well, sails flying. The name conjurs up pictures of someone small and cute with attitude and that pretty much describes that boat.

The Sue being extra saucy!

The Sue being extra saucy!

Our second boat was the Cal 34, ‘Moonrise’.  There was a vintage ’70’s plaque in the salon when we bought her; name firmly burned into the wood in fancy script.  Mike wasn’t crazy about the name, but her name (and her diesel stove) were what told me she was ‘our’ boat. As soon as I saw the plaque I knew. We looked at other boats, but we always came back to her. Probably because he wanted me to love the boat as much as he did, Mike agreed we would keep the name. Her name always made me feel serene, and this is how I generally felt on that boat. Actually, I remember that the minute I set foot on that boat, the stress would start to drain from my body.

Moonrise at sail with a reefed main.

Moonrise at sail with a reefed main. She was such a fun boat.

Our family actually owns two boats, one of which is kept in Bellingham and sailed by our son, Andrew. Andrew’s boat is an Ericson 25 and is named ‘Danger Kitten’.  I love the way he came up with that name, allowing the personality of the boat to emerge before he named her. It’s been the perfect name for this wee boat that is sometimes a challenge to sail safely in windy Bellingham. Keep her in mind if you are looking for a small boat, as Andrew will be selling her in the future to get something a little more appropriate for the kind of sailing he wants to do.  She is a fun boat and he loves her.

Little boat, big attitude.

When we started looking at boats for our next adventure I payed close attention to the names of the vessels. It wasn’t deliberate, it’s just something noticeable maybe because it tells me something about the person who owned the boat before and what they expected out of the boat. I am partial to names that imply mystery, are archetypal in some way, or bird names. Mike likes names that are lyrical, or have some sort of personal significance.

One of the boats we really loved and didn’t buy was a Westerly Sealord named ‘Spellbound’. I love that name because it invokes the feeling we all get sometimes when we are out on the water and the beauty of it hits us just right. It holds us spellbound.  There was another boat of that name in our marina; a big traditional Islander sailboat painted bright yellow. It had been neglected. It was also named ‘Spellbound’ and it had a little yellow dingy named ‘Little Misspell’.  Good thing we weren’t ready to buy or I may have been interested because the name of the boat drew me in. She would have been a major project.

There is another boat in the same marina; a Norseman 447. Beautiful boat! It has circumnavigated several times, i.e. it needs a ton of work, but OH, that hull! The name of that boat is ‘Serenity’. That name tells me how the owners viewed this boat, and what they expected from her. We would probably get along, those owners and me. It’s still for sale, by the way, and the price has come down considerably. Someone will get a great boat if they have the money to put into it. It’s a boat with a cool history, and it would be worth repairing and refitting.

Then there was ‘Flying Gull‘. I love the name, I still love the boat. That’s the name of the big Sparkman and Stevens sailboat we almost bought a year ago. It was a boat meant to break hearts and it certainly broke ours. We do not regret our experience with that boat, but I will always have a sore place in my heart when thinking about her. If we were going to sail only in this area or up the inside passage, that boat would have been pretty much perfect.  And the name? Think about how gulls just ride the wind effortlessly. They are awesome to watch. Who wouldn’t want a boat that could fly like a gull? To be honest, when I look at photos of that boat I still want to cry. Even though I do love Andromeda and am very pleased that we bought her. Flying Gull will always have a place in my heart. I have to look away.

Flying Gull. The boat that broke our heart but prepared us for Andromeda.

Andromeda has had several names. She has been ‘Aquarius’, and ‘Walhachin’, at least. The name ‘Walhachin’ is engraved on an owner’s plate just above the ladder into the cabin. The name ‘Aquarius’ is still written on the propane tanks.  We know the previous owner named her Andromeda because this name had special meaning to him. But he did not perform the naming ceremony and I have never felt as though this boat felt like an ‘Andromeda’ to me. That’s a feeling that is hard to put into words, but there it is. Perhaps she is confused about her name.

Sailors are a superstitious lot, but if people have believed for centuries that boats have ‘consciousness’, then there’s a reason why. Although ‘Andromeda’ is a perfectly beautiful name and is also associated with a rather picturesque galaxy far far away, for me, the word ‘Andromeda’ brings up images of a young girl tied to the rocks as a human sacrifice to the gods, then rescued by her hero. Um. This is probably not the best image to associate with a boat; this image of human suffering. If feels heavy to me, like it’s a name that has to be lived up to.  I’d like a name that implies playfulness and a lightness of spirit,  a name that brings up images of being easy on the sea, of adventure, exploration, and of gratitude. It needs to be different from most other boat names, but also easy to say and easy to understand.

Andromeda looks somehow brighter after her new engine refit.

I like bird names such as ‘Osprey’, ‘Pelican’, and ‘Puffin’, but none of them are really right for this boat. She is blue, so ‘Bluebird’ comes to mind, but she is really too big for that name. I’ve also thought of ‘Blue Swan’, but her sister ship is ‘Black Swan’, so that might be weird. It also might be cool. I don’t know. There is a boat in Astoria named ‘Peacock’. That’s a pretty cool name, too.

I feel grateful that we had the means and opportunity to buy this boat as she is so much more than I ever thought we would have. And she is graceful to look at and I love the color of her hull. So I think of the name ‘Grace’, then ‘Gracie’ which is a more playful version, then ‘Gracie Blue’ which kind of rolls off the tongue. Mike likes the name ‘Fetching’, but I’m on the fence on that one. Seems more suited to a sleeker, lighter boat, although I admit that when we finally had her on the water, she was quite ‘fetching’.

I figure that like most things, the answer will come to us when it’s ready. We’ll just get her out on the water, bring her to life, and let her speak to us. From her heart to ours, the right name for this part of our lives will emerge.

A sweet little Westerly we looked at in Vancouver, BC. I have no idea what this name means.

A sweet little Westerly we looked at in Vancouver, BC. I have no idea what this name means.

Splashdown 2014, and Some Other Important Commentary

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Just over 43,000 pounds. That’s how much she weighs dry and unloaded. I just shook my head and thought, ‘Man. I was really hoping for about 10,000 pounds less. This is one heavy boat.’ Even though I knew that SailboatData.com, which says our boat weighs 30,000 pounds, was probably wrong, I didn’t think they would be THAT far off. She is a big girl. Mike went so far as to refer to her as ‘fat’ but I corrected him firmly and said she simply has big bones. Like many a diva, our boat is an Amazon. A blue Amazon. And today we took her for her first spin with us at the helm.

Going down, back to the water.

This day has kept us both awake at night for weeks now. As Mike began to see the light at the end of the long tunnel of work known as ‘repowering’ we both began imagining all the worst kinds of things that could happen when we finally found ourselves on the water in Andromeda. Would we need to deploy the anchor in order to keep the current from whisking us off to sea? (I blame Mike for this dark fantasy.) Would we careen into the fishing boat Sophia as we tried to dock this behemoth of a boat? (This was my own worst nightmare.) Would we crash into the dock ourselves and hurt Andromeda and possibly people standing by watching, mouths agape? Certainly we knew how to handle our Cal 34, Moonrise, but she was a completely different animal. I just wanted this day to be over.

With a 1:00 splash time, we were at the boat and ready. I had asked the gods for a dry spell and, indeed, the clouds had parted to reveal blue skies. I had said my prayers for protection and assistance as I always do and as the engine on the travel lift started up I heard the high pitched screech of eagles overhead. Two adult eagles were flying in tandem just over the boat, talking back and forth to each other, flying close together. Eagles are my special totem and they never cease to thrill me. When I see eagles after a prayer, I consider that my sign that things will be fine. Soon there were six eagles circling high over Andromeda. Excellent! I began to feel at peace and stop worrying. My stomach began to unclench.  While there was a brisk breeze, it was not an unusual breeze for Astoria. Things would be good.

As the travel lift approached, Steve, the lift operator, approached us and asked if we’d like to trade positions with another boat that was going back in the water. We wanted to be able to hang at the dock generally getting the feel of the boat and maybe do a few touch and go’s before returning to the marina. If we didn’t trade positions, we’d need to move out of the way more quickly to make room for the next boat. We chose to trade, and went to the Portway Tavern for lunch.

Our son, Andrew, is a sailor and, obviously, an iphone owner. He came with us to help should any of our dark fantasies come to fruition.

If you go to Astoria and like hamburgers, you cannot go wrong with the Portway Tavern, which hails itself as the longest continuously ‘serving’ tavern west of the Mississippi. Perhaps it is. I know they used to serve more than drinks because there used to be a brothel upstairs. Now they serve delicious food (their fish and chips is something to write home about, too) and you get a side serving of poltergeist activity to spice up your meal. That’s right. According to the cook, there are several resident ghosts who make their presence known by playing little tricks like putting the bread on the floor overnight, or sliding a chair across a room unannounced. When we were there one made its presence known by toppling a bottle of liquor off the bottom shelf behind the bar, onto the floor. Just one bottle, mind you, and it didn’t break. No harm done, but the look on the cook’s face was priceless. We then we got to hear the ghost stories. Makes for a very interesting lunch. There are also several dozen women’s bras hanging from the ceiling. So food, entertainment,  and atmosphere. You can hardly shake a stick at that.

During our time out for lunch the wind picked up smartly. Now we had tide and current going out, and wind coming in. Super. Steve said they were expecting 50 knot winds by nightfall. Probably should not have waited and had lunch. But with six eagles giving us the ‘go ahead’, who knew?

Andrew is first aboard.

The splash went well, the engine started strong and Mike and I were both, in a word, AMAZED at how well that engine pushed that boat through the water. She might be ‘big boned’ but she is nimble as can be and handles like a dream! Our gut feelings about this hull were right on. Regular readers will know this is our first time ever having this boat out on the water, much less being in control of her. We are just a pair of wild and crazy people who bought a boat without ever giving her a test spin because, well, she was the right boat for us. We were both just exclaiming over and over about how responsive she is and how great the three bladed prop is (I’ll never go back to a folding prop), how you can stop her so quickly, how graceful she is on the water… we kind of went on and on. We could feel her coming to life underneath our very feet. Here’s an embarrassing video or two, with plenty of talking over wind. Enjoy.”

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Here’s the one Mike did. It’s equally wonderful. I know you want to see them both.

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I had taken up my usual position at the helm as I used to do on Moonrise when we docked. I was always the ‘driver’, so I just assumed I would be the ‘driver’ this time, too. But then I thought maybe Mike would want to dock her for the first time, as he has worked his butt off on that engine and really deserved it. Also that way if he crashed into the dock it wouldn’t be my fault. Who am I kidding?  Although the current threatened to push us into the marina faster than we felt comfortable, with the powerful engine and reverse thrust, Mike handled her like a pro and came up alongside the dock like he’d been docking her all his life. Andrew stepped off and tied off the middle cleat and she was secured. The rest was easy. And it was done! She was back in the water, we’d had our first small adventure, and now we cannot wait to take her out and play in a quiet location so we can learn the anchoring system and practice handling her. A day that darkened the quiet recesses of our minds for weeks turned out to be just grand after all.

Finally a chance at the helm.

And before I go, I want to give a shout out of thanks to my friend Behan Fravel Gifford, co-captain of S/V Totem and long time blogger. I’d also like to thank my friend Cidnie Carroll, author of the blog Our Life with Ceol Mor. They are “co-captains” (admins) of a wonderful group of women on Facebook called Women Who Sail. Here’s why I’m thanking them:

Our daughter, Claire, is traveling in Europe and the U.K. and a couple of days ago while in Amsterdam she was robbed while she slept in a hostel. Her iphone, passport, credit cards and money were under her pillow. The thief approached her in the wee hours of the morning, slid his slimy hand under her sleeping head, and took everything. He was probably a very experienced fellow. The police seem disinclined to follow up too much.

Although our daughter was not physically harmed, thanks be to God, it is more than a little bit unsettling to be a young woman in a foreign country without any form of identification, and with no one you know. She knew how to take care of business since she is an experienced traveler and an adult, and she had copies of all her documents. But I really wanted someone to take her under their wing; someone from her own country, someone with a small connection to home, even if a thin one. At 4:30 in the morning, after hanging up the phone with Claire, my first thought was to post this issue to the WWS Facebook group. I wrote a rather rambly post asking if there was anyone in the Amsterdam area who would be willing to give Claire a hand. Cidnie saw the post and immediately made it a ‘sticky’, ensuring that the post stayed at the top of the page so everyone would see it. She also posted it to her Facebook page.

I finally fell back to sleep and while I was sleeping the women in other time zones were putting the word out. There were so many responses of support and help that it would be hard to name everyone individually, but I’d like to thank each person who posted and let them know that their support meant a lot to me.

One of the many offers of help for Claire came from Behan and her cousin, Kate, who is a graduate student in Amsterdam. We three connected via Facebook messenger, and I forwarded Kate’s contact information to Claire. I understand they were to meet and have coffee today and I am eternally grateful for that.

It is a new experience for me to be a member of a group that simply jumps into action when one of its members needs help. This is a true community of women, and Behan and Cidnie are both admins, a sometimes thankless and always difficult job.  Thank you so much, Behan and Cidnie, for your generous spirits and for being leaders in the cruising community. Thank you also for understanding that being a mother does not stop when your children turn 18, or even 28.  Your own children are young, and yet you ‘get’ it.  And thank you, Women Who Sail, for being an awesome group of women. I will fly my burgee with pride.

Home for now.

Home for now.