Well, we're probably going to be chained to, or evicted from, the dock soon. Here we go...
Katie's contract job ran out last week. After spending several hours determining which state was actually paid unemployment taxes--long story--we found that South Carolina, despite its best efforts, was responsible for paying Katie unemployment until the next contract. However, after waiting 90 minutes to talk to a representative, she found that the taxes are paid quarterly, which means she can't even file until January. She cried. In public. Because once again, we're fresh out of hope. Back to normal for us.
Meanwhile, one guy that owes me money for work I did still hasn't paid up, and he threatened me--and Katie--the last time I confronted him about his debt. So, that's money we'll never see and precious time down the tubes. The new guy I've been working for hasn't had work for me in weeks, and still owes me a ton of back pay. I suspect he's going to stiff me as well. What is it about people in the boat world, that apparently everyone but us can get away with not paying for anything? How do WE achieve this Exalted Deadbeat status?
Anyway, we're out of money and pretty well out of hope. Again.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Windscoop > Air Conditioning
Our windscoop arrived, and it is an excellent addition to the boat. We said goodbye to air conditioning, giving that anchor to a good friend here in Charleston who can use it. No more big metal brick to muscle around. It's only useful with shore power anyway, and we really intend to live out on the hook as much as possible once we leave Charleston.
The windscoop is a great idea, and a good value if you buy from Amazon rather than West. Funnels air in through the V-berth hatch quite nicely. It does need a bit of tweaking to be used properly; in our case, a new crossbar and respaced screw eyes, plus a pair of lightweight bunji cords, made all the difference. It needs to be tailored to its hatch, is all. No sewing or other high-skill requirements, just a couple of screw-eyes and a fiberglass rod...and some padding and electrical tape.
The windscoop is a great idea, and a good value if you buy from Amazon rather than West. Funnels air in through the V-berth hatch quite nicely. It does need a bit of tweaking to be used properly; in our case, a new crossbar and respaced screw eyes, plus a pair of lightweight bunji cords, made all the difference. It needs to be tailored to its hatch, is all. No sewing or other high-skill requirements, just a couple of screw-eyes and a fiberglass rod...and some padding and electrical tape.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Shore power system is complete.
Katie and I rewired and rebuilt the whole shore power system this weekend. We now have a 30A main breaker with polarity warning, an AC voltmeter, four 15A breakers--one for each outlet--and four GFCI outlets. One in the v-berth, one in the main cabin, one in the galley, and one in the engine bay/sail locker.
I made the breaker panel out of a piece of bookshelf fronting left over from a previous project. I know, I know, it looks tacky as hell. But it's solid and a perfect fit. Eventually it'll be the template for a new panel made from something untacky. Or maybe I'll just paint it. Right now, I'm pleased as punch that it works.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
My Jaunt Up the ICW.
So, I volunteered to go with my good buddy Will in his Hunter 30 up to Georgetown SC to haul out. Sand and paint the bottom while the Hazzard guys replace his propshaft gland. It was a great experience for me, made me even more sure that we can really do this. It was a five day trip overall.
Day one, Tuesday, we left the city marina early, about 7:30. Got to the Ben Sawyer swing bridge precisely as it was opening, did not have to hold and wait for an hour. Then I went below to check the phone and...WHAM. The whole boat thunked and heeled over. Apparently a channel marker leaped out in front of Will. Big scuff down the side, chunk missing from the rub-rail. I drove for a while after that.
Stopped in McClellanville for the night (below) and bravely decided, Nah, we don't need shore power for one night, we don't need A/C. Wrong! Mosquitoes galore, and they chewed us up while we were sleeping.
Day two, Horsefly Hell Day. They were all over us. But we got some actual sailing in...until the South Santee River. We were towing the dinghy and getting good speed, up over six knots under sail with the motor idling, and all of a sudden we slowed. Hard. The inflatable had nosed under and turned into a sea anchor. Too heavy to lift and pour, so Will circled the boat while I got into the thing and bailed it out. Then we strapped it to the deck.
No trouble getting into Georgetown, and Hazzard Marine was great (also below). Georgetown is a nice little place, but its economy consists entirely of restaurants that close at 3 in the afternoon, and art galleries that don't serve food. We found one of the two places that bravely flew in the face of societal norms and stayed open in the evening, had some burgers and Cokes. Definitely hooked up shore power that night! Average speed over days one and two, just over three and a half knots.
Day three, Haulout Day. Again, Hazzard Marine rocks, hats off to Sam and Jasper. We hand-sanded the hull, wiped it clean, taped it off, and painted...fast! Once the can is open, anti-fouling paint starts curing right away. It had the consistency of grape jelly by the time we got it onto the jackstand patches and the brace spots under the keel. We also noted that the seawater intake for the engine was nearly painted shut. I cleaned it, carefully repainted it without globbing it up.
Checked out the other place that stayed open that evening, Buzz's Roost. Great spot, decent prices. Listened to some excellent open-mike acoustic guitar.
Day four, Getting Lost Day. The channel markers in Winyah Bay definitely want to send you out to sea; finding the ICW entry takes a bit of work, even if you've just come out of it two days earlier. We found plenty of chop, plenty of shallows, and plenty of wind out in the middle of the bay. We did finally get into the Ditch about two hours later than we'd hoped. We started making good time, 5 to 6 knots; the bottom job, gland replacement, unrestricted intake, and clean prop added up to a big gain.
Stopped briefly in McClellanville again for ice; they were nice enough to run us into town again for smokes. Talked with some folks in a pair of little speedboats that were transitting a goodly portion of the ICW, staying in B-and-Bs along the way.
Farther down the Ditch, we threw the hook in a little slough, the convergence of Long Creek and Bull River. Fantastic anchorage, muddy bottom but otherwise very good. Plenty of dolphins, plenty of pelicans, plenty of quiet. That was my first night on the hook, and it sold me on this whole lifestyle.
Day five, Rude Boaters Day. We made good time again, a little over 5 knots until we hit Isle of Palms. Eleventy-seven speedboaters a minute, all waking us. A few were nice enough to slow down, but all but one of them then gunned it too early and waked us anyway. Sullivans Island was no better. I wonder, do powerboaters have a blind spot for sailboats? At least nobody hit us.
Had to wait 40 minutes for the Ben Sawyer swing bridge this time. We idled to it as long as possible, still had to turn back upstream to buy time. The bridge operator was nice enough to warn us on the handheld that he was about to open the bridge and that we should make our turn and get going.
South of the bridge, more rudeboats. But then we got into the Harbor, got sails up, and made it home. All good! It was a great learning experience for me, and I have no doubt that Katie and I can do this now. I spent maybe a third of the trip piloting, two thirds acting as lookout and naviguesser.
Oh! And a closing anecdote. IOP and Sullivans were swarming with bikini babes, on shore and on boats. Apparently they're attracted to rude powerboaters. Anyway, tons of eye candy. Will's a single guy. I'm married, but I have permission to look and comment. And the only sexy sight that we found worthy of comment in all of that mess was on a northbound sloop near the bridge. "Will! Look! In-mast furling!" "Oh, man...beautiful..."
Day one, Tuesday, we left the city marina early, about 7:30. Got to the Ben Sawyer swing bridge precisely as it was opening, did not have to hold and wait for an hour. Then I went below to check the phone and...WHAM. The whole boat thunked and heeled over. Apparently a channel marker leaped out in front of Will. Big scuff down the side, chunk missing from the rub-rail. I drove for a while after that.
Stopped in McClellanville for the night (below) and bravely decided, Nah, we don't need shore power for one night, we don't need A/C. Wrong! Mosquitoes galore, and they chewed us up while we were sleeping.
Day two, Horsefly Hell Day. They were all over us. But we got some actual sailing in...until the South Santee River. We were towing the dinghy and getting good speed, up over six knots under sail with the motor idling, and all of a sudden we slowed. Hard. The inflatable had nosed under and turned into a sea anchor. Too heavy to lift and pour, so Will circled the boat while I got into the thing and bailed it out. Then we strapped it to the deck.
No trouble getting into Georgetown, and Hazzard Marine was great (also below). Georgetown is a nice little place, but its economy consists entirely of restaurants that close at 3 in the afternoon, and art galleries that don't serve food. We found one of the two places that bravely flew in the face of societal norms and stayed open in the evening, had some burgers and Cokes. Definitely hooked up shore power that night! Average speed over days one and two, just over three and a half knots.
Day three, Haulout Day. Again, Hazzard Marine rocks, hats off to Sam and Jasper. We hand-sanded the hull, wiped it clean, taped it off, and painted...fast! Once the can is open, anti-fouling paint starts curing right away. It had the consistency of grape jelly by the time we got it onto the jackstand patches and the brace spots under the keel. We also noted that the seawater intake for the engine was nearly painted shut. I cleaned it, carefully repainted it without globbing it up.
Checked out the other place that stayed open that evening, Buzz's Roost. Great spot, decent prices. Listened to some excellent open-mike acoustic guitar.
Day four, Getting Lost Day. The channel markers in Winyah Bay definitely want to send you out to sea; finding the ICW entry takes a bit of work, even if you've just come out of it two days earlier. We found plenty of chop, plenty of shallows, and plenty of wind out in the middle of the bay. We did finally get into the Ditch about two hours later than we'd hoped. We started making good time, 5 to 6 knots; the bottom job, gland replacement, unrestricted intake, and clean prop added up to a big gain.
Stopped briefly in McClellanville again for ice; they were nice enough to run us into town again for smokes. Talked with some folks in a pair of little speedboats that were transitting a goodly portion of the ICW, staying in B-and-Bs along the way.
Farther down the Ditch, we threw the hook in a little slough, the convergence of Long Creek and Bull River. Fantastic anchorage, muddy bottom but otherwise very good. Plenty of dolphins, plenty of pelicans, plenty of quiet. That was my first night on the hook, and it sold me on this whole lifestyle.
Day five, Rude Boaters Day. We made good time again, a little over 5 knots until we hit Isle of Palms. Eleventy-seven speedboaters a minute, all waking us. A few were nice enough to slow down, but all but one of them then gunned it too early and waked us anyway. Sullivans Island was no better. I wonder, do powerboaters have a blind spot for sailboats? At least nobody hit us.
Had to wait 40 minutes for the Ben Sawyer swing bridge this time. We idled to it as long as possible, still had to turn back upstream to buy time. The bridge operator was nice enough to warn us on the handheld that he was about to open the bridge and that we should make our turn and get going.
South of the bridge, more rudeboats. But then we got into the Harbor, got sails up, and made it home. All good! It was a great learning experience for me, and I have no doubt that Katie and I can do this now. I spent maybe a third of the trip piloting, two thirds acting as lookout and naviguesser.
Oh! And a closing anecdote. IOP and Sullivans were swarming with bikini babes, on shore and on boats. Apparently they're attracted to rude powerboaters. Anyway, tons of eye candy. Will's a single guy. I'm married, but I have permission to look and comment. And the only sexy sight that we found worthy of comment in all of that mess was on a northbound sloop near the bridge. "Will! Look! In-mast furling!" "Oh, man...beautiful..."
Leland Oil Marine Review...Great!
Stopped in McClellanville for the night at this little spot. Lots of shrimpers, but otherwise nice and quiet and out of the way. Cheap as well, buck and a quarter a foot if I recall. One good shower, they sell ice, and they will drive you into town for smokes, beer, and stuff from the Dollar Store. Only downside, at low tide you have to climb an eight-foot wooden ladder.
Hazzard Marine Review...Great!
When it's time to haul out our boat, if we're still in North America, we are definitely going to Hazzard Marine in Georgetown SC. Fantastic place. Will and I sanded and painted his boat bottom there. Out of the water at 8:30, back in at 3:30, while his propshaft packing gland got replaced in an hour and a half by Jasper. Nice dock, small store, great showers. Overall, just a very good marina/yard.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
What do the simple folk do?
I remember going to see Camelot in the theater for the first time. I remember watching my brother standing up and yelling "Run boy, run."
Grand dreams of a life greater than the small person that we are and dreams of what we could be. The young boy listened to the tales of Camelot. Mesmerized by the tales he was sent out to tell the stories to all. For one brief shining moment...
But the tale started with a boy, a dreamer, and ended with a memory. Love gained, honor earned, a brief shining moment of beauty.
We want to spread the story of independence, of the beauty of living on the ocean, of independence from foreign oil, but the reality is that we don't have enough money to have enough food for one more day. We need a miracle. We need the one brief shining moment. Please, if you have an ear to hear us, if you want to share our dream, be our sponsor, be our Merlin, gives us the strength to pull the sword from the stone and live.
Katie and Mike
Sovereign
C/O Charleston City Marina
17 Lockwood Drive
Charleston, SC 29401
Grand dreams of a life greater than the small person that we are and dreams of what we could be. The young boy listened to the tales of Camelot. Mesmerized by the tales he was sent out to tell the stories to all. For one brief shining moment...
But the tale started with a boy, a dreamer, and ended with a memory. Love gained, honor earned, a brief shining moment of beauty.
We want to spread the story of independence, of the beauty of living on the ocean, of independence from foreign oil, but the reality is that we don't have enough money to have enough food for one more day. We need a miracle. We need the one brief shining moment. Please, if you have an ear to hear us, if you want to share our dream, be our sponsor, be our Merlin, gives us the strength to pull the sword from the stone and live.
Katie and Mike
Sovereign
C/O Charleston City Marina
17 Lockwood Drive
Charleston, SC 29401
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Death of a Thousand Cuts
Depression sets in. The engine still doesn't work, the wiring is failing, a dozen tiny failures are accumulating and multiplying. I love being on the boat, but having no money to fix anything...I have no idea what to do anymore.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I can do this!
I Can Do This
Michael S. Roberts
Halyard, windlass, jib line, spring line…Christ, I’m never gonna figure all this out! Buying this boat was a big mistake. Too damn late to back out, though. I’m gonna have to shell out a fortune for lessons from a pro, three hundred bucks a damn day. Minimum!
At least it was a decent day, weather-wise. High sixties, a steady 12 knot breeze, no clouds.
“Mike! Get ready to hoist the main!” That was Will. Good guy, crazy Boston Irish, taking me out on his own boat for my first day sailing. Didn’t even ask for a six-pack in return. We’d become friends my first day at the dock. Turned out he likes Coronas, too.
“Which one’s the main?” I saw two big windlasses and more lines than I could track. Not a label anywhere.
Will pointed at the base of the mast. “Bottom one.” I wrapped the line around and heaved. Nothing. I’d wrapped it backwards. Slapped myself on the forehead, rewrapped it, tried again. And…the main sail began to climb up the mast! I was doing it! I ran the massive thing all the way up, cranked it tight, and secured it to a cleat with the simple tie-off I’d learned just a few days before. It hung there, limp, flapping a bit at the trailing edge. Proud of myself, I threw Will a grin and thumbs-up.
He gave me a wink from the helm. “That was the easy one, man. Now the jib.”
The jib? What the…okay, time to figure this one out, too. I knew the jib was the sail on the front, at least. “Okay, where’s the line for that?”
***
Just thinking back to how I got here, since I had no idea where that jib line was anyway. We’d made the decision, my wife and I, to buy a sailboat and cruise the world. Great dream, right? The reality was, this was an endless barrage of information and problems.
We’d found a real deal after a lot of searching, a 1968 sloop, designed and built by Bill Soverel, 33 feet long, sitting up on metal stands at a boatyard. Well, we thought it was a real deal. Turned out to be more of a fixer-upper than we’d thought when we inspected the thing. We knew all the good stuff, that it had new standing rigging—we knew what that was, at least—and a freshly rebuilt engine. We knew it had new paint, including the special bottom paint. And we learned later that it was overbuilt, like a floating armored personnel carrier, because back in 1968 engineers didn’t believe fiberglass was as strong as it was…so they used a lot of it. We found out later our boat weighs about half again as much as a newer boat its size. All that extra fiberglass, right? And a heavier keel to keep the thing from leaning over too easily.
Thing is, we didn’t really know all that right off the bat. We just kind of jumped at the boat as soon as we saw it. Spent about two hours looking all through it and grinning at each other, while the man selling it told us all the good stuff. It was our dream boat. We bought it the day we saw it.
Fixing it up was a nightmare, and a hell of a learning curve to boot. Okay, listener, imagine you’ve just inherited a beautiful old mansion way out in the Louisiana swamp. It’s gorgeous…from a distance. Up close, there’s moss and mold and mildew and mice. Oh, and there’s a sleek 1962 Jag in the garage…that hasn’t been driven in 30 years. You have nowhere to live but that house, and nothing to drive but that car, and you’re dumped out there in the swamp with nothing useful like even a Seven-Eleven within walking distance, much less a good hardware-and-parts store. That was our first boating experience. The boat had issues. No, scratch that, it had a subscription.
***
“Jib line’s here in the cockpit, Mike,” Will yelled. “Just help me pull out the sail!”
“Like how?” I started knuckle-walking back toward the cockpit—didn’t want to risk standing all the way up and getting pitched over the side. Where’s the lifejacket…oh, yeah, safe and dry in the sail locker. Nice.
“No, man, just help me heave the line there! Stay where you are, lend me some muscle!” He started heaving on one of the two big lines that run along the sides of the boat, one per side. Hey, jib lines! I knew what they were now. I gripped the one he was pulling, started heaving in time with him. The big foresail came rolling off of the furler and flapping like a pennant.
“Now what?” I swiped at the sweat in my eyes. Wear a hat next time, smart guy.
“Now we kill the engine and catch some wind, man.” Will pulled the kill switch, the engine starved itself out, and the boat got quiet, starting to slow now that the prop wasn’t spinning anymore. He threw me an upside-down wave, motioning me back to the cockpit. “Okay, grab the wheel, right? You’re going to turn us away from the wind before we lose momentum.”
“Dude, you want me to steer? I race cars. I might lay this thing over.”
“Told you, man, you’re learning to sail today. We got about five hours of daylight, so grab the wheel, right?”
So I did. I stood behind the big city-bus-sized steering wheel, Will pointed off to the right, I spun the wheel right—starboard, think starboard!—and the sails started to curve and fill with air and…
***
“Crap! Damn wiring. I think this boat was owned by three generations of idiots who all inbred with each other. And learned electrics from a cereal box.” Talking to myself helps sometimes. The wiring, that was one of the biggest issues, no doubt. A hundred different wires, none labeled, some of them obviously clipped from extension cords or made out of scavenged speaker wire or stolen from some Pharaoh’s tomb. At least a third of them went nowhere. Didn’t help that it was twenty-odd degrees out, my fingers were clumsy-numb and hypersensitive at the same time, and the wires in the boat were braided together by a macramé artist with attention deficit disorder.
Diagnosing the electrical issues was only a part of the repair process. As I said, the boat had more than a few issues. Just removing the stove had taken a full day. Yes, the stove! That evil thing, another throwback to the glorious pre-OSHA days. Big, rusty, and alcohol-burning, it squatted in the galley like a malignant poisonous toad, daring me to challenge it. “I’ll bite you,” it said, or so I imagined. “I’ll bite you and give you lockjaw if you try to dig me out of here, and I’ll blow up like a daisy-cutter if you leave me on board. Your choice, pal. You gotta deal with me.” I prepared to do battle. Heavy gloves in lieu of gauntlets, denim jacket making do instead of chainmail, and a rubber mallet as a mace. The stove…I’ll give it credit, it didn’t die easy. Four huge rusty bolts clearly designed to keep a rocket from leaving its launchpad, a Byzantine tangle of hard metal tubing to feed the rusty toad its precious alcohol, and the carcass itself weighed as much as a box of encyclopedias. But I’d beaten its challenge. Sweat-soaked, lacerated, bruised, and triumphant, I gave it a respectful ceremonial burial in the dumpster.
***
Flap-flap-flap-FWAP! Both sails suddenly ballooned out, tight and full of air, and made a beautiful sound like snapping a bedsheet on laundry day. The sailboat was sailing, and I was making it go where I wanted!
“Okay, see that green house way over on the Battery there?” Will pointed. “Just keep the boat going that way, more or less, right?”
“Right!” I kept a knee pressed against the wheel to steady it, using both hands to nudge it left and right. The boat wouldn’t quite stay in a straight line. I worriedly pointed this out.
“No problem, Mike, this isn’t a racing sloop, it’s a cruiser. It’s gonna wander.” Will didn’t seem worried, so why should I be? Then he grinned, Irish-crazy. “We’re gonna tack! Get ready to swing her!”
Oh crap.
***
Finally putting the boat in the water was as exciting and confusing and nerve-wracking as making love for the first time. Except it took a lot longer, and it involved a lot more people, and it cost a lot more money.
The wiring was functional. Messy, but functional. The demonic stove was gone. The paint was dry. The sails were onboard, folded neatly away. There was no excuse for the boat being on land anymore. The boat wanted to be on the ocean and so did we.
Over the course of an hour—like I said, way longer than a teenager’s first time—the big boatyard carry-all lifted our precious dream boat, trundled it across a hundred yards of gravel, and set it in the water, a bride on her marriage bed. Yeah, I wax poetic, but it was a stirring sight. There she was, floating, bobbing gently in the river swells…home.
***
“Tacking! Swing us left! Hard port!” Will shouted as he loosened the main boom so it could swing and knock somebody over the side. I leaned back to avoid the roundhouse slugger while Will ducked under it. I spun the wheel, the boat turned left, the sails fluttered and went limp…then filled with air again from the opposite direction. FWAP! “Straighten her up! Aim for the Coast Guard station for a while!”
Took a little practice, but I was getting the hang of keeping it in a straight line, more or less. Like Will said, it wandered a bit. But I’d made my first tack, letting the sails shift from one side to the other, getting them to bite into the wind again.
I realized I hadn’t thought, “Can I do this? What the hell am I doing?” for several minutes, at least.
Then I noticed, “Hey Will, we’re getting’ kind of close to the Coasties. You want some nice fifty-cal holes in your boat or what?”
“Yeah, go ahead and tack, right?” He loosened the main boom line. “Do the wheel and the jib line this time, okay?”
“Ummm…okay. You know the Coast Guard is totally gonna board us when I flub this up.”
“No problem.” He pointed at the left-side—port side!—jib line. “You’re gonna spin the wheel hard right and haul that line fast as you can. Soon’s the sail catches the wind, secure the line and straighten the wheel.”
Okay, I thought to myself, sounds doable. And it was. “Tacking!” I yelled. Spun the wheel, hauled the line, listed and watched for the...FWAP! Another successful turn. I felt like I was actually getting the hang of this.
“Yo, Mike, check it out.” Will was pointing at the water near the boat, just aft of midship on the port side. I was just pleased to have been able to identify where he was pointing and describe it later. “Good luck, right? Dolphins.”
Sure enough, there they were, four of them. Breaching close aboard, puffing air and then diving back down. They dove shallow and slipped right under the boat, still visible on the starboard side. Didn’t breach again, but there were four flashes of grey-bronze less than a fathom down.
I knew the superstition: Dolphins are good luck, simple as that. And I saw them my first day sailing, about as close as you can get and stay dry. Probably they were just playing, or chasing a school of mackerel, but I like to think they were welcoming me to their turf…and keeping an eye on me.
I can do this. I turned the boat toward home.
Michael S. Roberts
Halyard, windlass, jib line, spring line…Christ, I’m never gonna figure all this out! Buying this boat was a big mistake. Too damn late to back out, though. I’m gonna have to shell out a fortune for lessons from a pro, three hundred bucks a damn day. Minimum!
At least it was a decent day, weather-wise. High sixties, a steady 12 knot breeze, no clouds.
“Mike! Get ready to hoist the main!” That was Will. Good guy, crazy Boston Irish, taking me out on his own boat for my first day sailing. Didn’t even ask for a six-pack in return. We’d become friends my first day at the dock. Turned out he likes Coronas, too.
“Which one’s the main?” I saw two big windlasses and more lines than I could track. Not a label anywhere.
Will pointed at the base of the mast. “Bottom one.” I wrapped the line around and heaved. Nothing. I’d wrapped it backwards. Slapped myself on the forehead, rewrapped it, tried again. And…the main sail began to climb up the mast! I was doing it! I ran the massive thing all the way up, cranked it tight, and secured it to a cleat with the simple tie-off I’d learned just a few days before. It hung there, limp, flapping a bit at the trailing edge. Proud of myself, I threw Will a grin and thumbs-up.
He gave me a wink from the helm. “That was the easy one, man. Now the jib.”
The jib? What the…okay, time to figure this one out, too. I knew the jib was the sail on the front, at least. “Okay, where’s the line for that?”
***
Just thinking back to how I got here, since I had no idea where that jib line was anyway. We’d made the decision, my wife and I, to buy a sailboat and cruise the world. Great dream, right? The reality was, this was an endless barrage of information and problems.
We’d found a real deal after a lot of searching, a 1968 sloop, designed and built by Bill Soverel, 33 feet long, sitting up on metal stands at a boatyard. Well, we thought it was a real deal. Turned out to be more of a fixer-upper than we’d thought when we inspected the thing. We knew all the good stuff, that it had new standing rigging—we knew what that was, at least—and a freshly rebuilt engine. We knew it had new paint, including the special bottom paint. And we learned later that it was overbuilt, like a floating armored personnel carrier, because back in 1968 engineers didn’t believe fiberglass was as strong as it was…so they used a lot of it. We found out later our boat weighs about half again as much as a newer boat its size. All that extra fiberglass, right? And a heavier keel to keep the thing from leaning over too easily.
Thing is, we didn’t really know all that right off the bat. We just kind of jumped at the boat as soon as we saw it. Spent about two hours looking all through it and grinning at each other, while the man selling it told us all the good stuff. It was our dream boat. We bought it the day we saw it.
Fixing it up was a nightmare, and a hell of a learning curve to boot. Okay, listener, imagine you’ve just inherited a beautiful old mansion way out in the Louisiana swamp. It’s gorgeous…from a distance. Up close, there’s moss and mold and mildew and mice. Oh, and there’s a sleek 1962 Jag in the garage…that hasn’t been driven in 30 years. You have nowhere to live but that house, and nothing to drive but that car, and you’re dumped out there in the swamp with nothing useful like even a Seven-Eleven within walking distance, much less a good hardware-and-parts store. That was our first boating experience. The boat had issues. No, scratch that, it had a subscription.
***
“Jib line’s here in the cockpit, Mike,” Will yelled. “Just help me pull out the sail!”
“Like how?” I started knuckle-walking back toward the cockpit—didn’t want to risk standing all the way up and getting pitched over the side. Where’s the lifejacket…oh, yeah, safe and dry in the sail locker. Nice.
“No, man, just help me heave the line there! Stay where you are, lend me some muscle!” He started heaving on one of the two big lines that run along the sides of the boat, one per side. Hey, jib lines! I knew what they were now. I gripped the one he was pulling, started heaving in time with him. The big foresail came rolling off of the furler and flapping like a pennant.
“Now what?” I swiped at the sweat in my eyes. Wear a hat next time, smart guy.
“Now we kill the engine and catch some wind, man.” Will pulled the kill switch, the engine starved itself out, and the boat got quiet, starting to slow now that the prop wasn’t spinning anymore. He threw me an upside-down wave, motioning me back to the cockpit. “Okay, grab the wheel, right? You’re going to turn us away from the wind before we lose momentum.”
“Dude, you want me to steer? I race cars. I might lay this thing over.”
“Told you, man, you’re learning to sail today. We got about five hours of daylight, so grab the wheel, right?”
So I did. I stood behind the big city-bus-sized steering wheel, Will pointed off to the right, I spun the wheel right—starboard, think starboard!—and the sails started to curve and fill with air and…
***
“Crap! Damn wiring. I think this boat was owned by three generations of idiots who all inbred with each other. And learned electrics from a cereal box.” Talking to myself helps sometimes. The wiring, that was one of the biggest issues, no doubt. A hundred different wires, none labeled, some of them obviously clipped from extension cords or made out of scavenged speaker wire or stolen from some Pharaoh’s tomb. At least a third of them went nowhere. Didn’t help that it was twenty-odd degrees out, my fingers were clumsy-numb and hypersensitive at the same time, and the wires in the boat were braided together by a macramé artist with attention deficit disorder.
Diagnosing the electrical issues was only a part of the repair process. As I said, the boat had more than a few issues. Just removing the stove had taken a full day. Yes, the stove! That evil thing, another throwback to the glorious pre-OSHA days. Big, rusty, and alcohol-burning, it squatted in the galley like a malignant poisonous toad, daring me to challenge it. “I’ll bite you,” it said, or so I imagined. “I’ll bite you and give you lockjaw if you try to dig me out of here, and I’ll blow up like a daisy-cutter if you leave me on board. Your choice, pal. You gotta deal with me.” I prepared to do battle. Heavy gloves in lieu of gauntlets, denim jacket making do instead of chainmail, and a rubber mallet as a mace. The stove…I’ll give it credit, it didn’t die easy. Four huge rusty bolts clearly designed to keep a rocket from leaving its launchpad, a Byzantine tangle of hard metal tubing to feed the rusty toad its precious alcohol, and the carcass itself weighed as much as a box of encyclopedias. But I’d beaten its challenge. Sweat-soaked, lacerated, bruised, and triumphant, I gave it a respectful ceremonial burial in the dumpster.
***
Flap-flap-flap-FWAP! Both sails suddenly ballooned out, tight and full of air, and made a beautiful sound like snapping a bedsheet on laundry day. The sailboat was sailing, and I was making it go where I wanted!
“Okay, see that green house way over on the Battery there?” Will pointed. “Just keep the boat going that way, more or less, right?”
“Right!” I kept a knee pressed against the wheel to steady it, using both hands to nudge it left and right. The boat wouldn’t quite stay in a straight line. I worriedly pointed this out.
“No problem, Mike, this isn’t a racing sloop, it’s a cruiser. It’s gonna wander.” Will didn’t seem worried, so why should I be? Then he grinned, Irish-crazy. “We’re gonna tack! Get ready to swing her!”
Oh crap.
***
Finally putting the boat in the water was as exciting and confusing and nerve-wracking as making love for the first time. Except it took a lot longer, and it involved a lot more people, and it cost a lot more money.
The wiring was functional. Messy, but functional. The demonic stove was gone. The paint was dry. The sails were onboard, folded neatly away. There was no excuse for the boat being on land anymore. The boat wanted to be on the ocean and so did we.
Over the course of an hour—like I said, way longer than a teenager’s first time—the big boatyard carry-all lifted our precious dream boat, trundled it across a hundred yards of gravel, and set it in the water, a bride on her marriage bed. Yeah, I wax poetic, but it was a stirring sight. There she was, floating, bobbing gently in the river swells…home.
***
“Tacking! Swing us left! Hard port!” Will shouted as he loosened the main boom so it could swing and knock somebody over the side. I leaned back to avoid the roundhouse slugger while Will ducked under it. I spun the wheel, the boat turned left, the sails fluttered and went limp…then filled with air again from the opposite direction. FWAP! “Straighten her up! Aim for the Coast Guard station for a while!”
Took a little practice, but I was getting the hang of keeping it in a straight line, more or less. Like Will said, it wandered a bit. But I’d made my first tack, letting the sails shift from one side to the other, getting them to bite into the wind again.
I realized I hadn’t thought, “Can I do this? What the hell am I doing?” for several minutes, at least.
Then I noticed, “Hey Will, we’re getting’ kind of close to the Coasties. You want some nice fifty-cal holes in your boat or what?”
“Yeah, go ahead and tack, right?” He loosened the main boom line. “Do the wheel and the jib line this time, okay?”
“Ummm…okay. You know the Coast Guard is totally gonna board us when I flub this up.”
“No problem.” He pointed at the left-side—port side!—jib line. “You’re gonna spin the wheel hard right and haul that line fast as you can. Soon’s the sail catches the wind, secure the line and straighten the wheel.”
Okay, I thought to myself, sounds doable. And it was. “Tacking!” I yelled. Spun the wheel, hauled the line, listed and watched for the...FWAP! Another successful turn. I felt like I was actually getting the hang of this.
“Yo, Mike, check it out.” Will was pointing at the water near the boat, just aft of midship on the port side. I was just pleased to have been able to identify where he was pointing and describe it later. “Good luck, right? Dolphins.”
Sure enough, there they were, four of them. Breaching close aboard, puffing air and then diving back down. They dove shallow and slipped right under the boat, still visible on the starboard side. Didn’t breach again, but there were four flashes of grey-bronze less than a fathom down.
I knew the superstition: Dolphins are good luck, simple as that. And I saw them my first day sailing, about as close as you can get and stay dry. Probably they were just playing, or chasing a school of mackerel, but I like to think they were welcoming me to their turf…and keeping an eye on me.
I can do this. I turned the boat toward home.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Little Miracles
At our darkest hour, several miracles occurred. We received two gifts from relatives. Our slip rent is paid for the month and we have propane to cook our food. Thank you. I don't think you will ever know how amazing and wonderful your gifts were to us.
Mike was talking to Tom about our DC problem. Tom asked what size fuses we were using? We said that there was 2 amp fuses. Turns out, we should have been using 20 amp fuses. We still haven't figured out what is wrong with the two overhead lights but the other lights and fan are working now. We still need to rewire the entire boat but that can wait for a little while.
The engine still doesn't work. We've added a new fuel pump, sea strainer, hoses, and fuel filters. It might be delamination of the old fuel tank. It is the original fiberglass tank from 1968 and is integral to the boat. We may try a portable diesel tank and see if that makes a difference.
Mike put in the missing cotter pins so that our mast won't fall off.
The garage AC unit is now in our main entry way. Yes - cool air is flowing through our boat. The bad news is it totally blocks the entry. The cats don't like it a bit. They haven't figured out how to get over to the outside. Pequat is sulking.
Last week Mike worked hard labor sanding and waxing mega yachts and sports fishers. I cleaned interiors and mildew off of canvas coverings. We will do any work as long as it is legal. It doesn't pay well but will keep us in cat food, kitty litter, and coffee.
Adventures aren't always easy and I suppose the best memories come from making it through hard times. If we didn't do this as a team, we wouldn't be able to do this at all.
Did we make the right decision? I still say yes. I finally saw an otter swimming yesterday morning. I was walking to the bath house at 6:30 a.m. and there was a smallish one swimming from dock to dock. Next time I'll bring my camera.
Mike was talking to Tom about our DC problem. Tom asked what size fuses we were using? We said that there was 2 amp fuses. Turns out, we should have been using 20 amp fuses. We still haven't figured out what is wrong with the two overhead lights but the other lights and fan are working now. We still need to rewire the entire boat but that can wait for a little while.
The engine still doesn't work. We've added a new fuel pump, sea strainer, hoses, and fuel filters. It might be delamination of the old fuel tank. It is the original fiberglass tank from 1968 and is integral to the boat. We may try a portable diesel tank and see if that makes a difference.
Mike put in the missing cotter pins so that our mast won't fall off.
The garage AC unit is now in our main entry way. Yes - cool air is flowing through our boat. The bad news is it totally blocks the entry. The cats don't like it a bit. They haven't figured out how to get over to the outside. Pequat is sulking.
Last week Mike worked hard labor sanding and waxing mega yachts and sports fishers. I cleaned interiors and mildew off of canvas coverings. We will do any work as long as it is legal. It doesn't pay well but will keep us in cat food, kitty litter, and coffee.
Adventures aren't always easy and I suppose the best memories come from making it through hard times. If we didn't do this as a team, we wouldn't be able to do this at all.
Did we make the right decision? I still say yes. I finally saw an otter swimming yesterday morning. I was walking to the bath house at 6:30 a.m. and there was a smallish one swimming from dock to dock. Next time I'll bring my camera.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
We Could Use A Break
Three nights ago, one of the overhead lights went out. We thought it was a bulb and we replaced it. It still didn't work. The next night, the second overhead light went out and minutes later, the fan in the V-berth went out. Ten minutes later the fan in the AirHead toilet and the light went out in the bathroom. The only DC power available is going to the masthead light outside and the fresh water pump.
We knew that we had to redo the entire DC wiring system but it couldn't have come at a worse time. It will cost $460 for the DC panel and about $200 for the wiring. Mike can do the rewiring but we absolutely don't have the money to do it right now. Slip rent is $625 and due on the 5th. We won't even talk about the boat and car insurance, cell phone service, and the car payment.
Mike has been doing side work to make as much cash as possible while he waits to see if the company that is interested in hiring him actually gets the defense contract. I'm going to try to pick up side work interior cleaning luxury yachts.
I've been looking at Guru.com to try and pick up technical writing work but I'm up against Bangalore, India pricing. I'm thinking of advertising on Craig's List. How about, technical writer will work for food and wiring.
It's been a rough week. Last night I looked up through the screened hatch in the V-berth. I'd just finished giving Mike a back massage because he is sore from detailing yachts. I could see a star and I made a wish. Let the wind be strong and steady. Then I asked God to bless and keep us.
I know this will pass, it just seems overwhelming right now.
We knew that we had to redo the entire DC wiring system but it couldn't have come at a worse time. It will cost $460 for the DC panel and about $200 for the wiring. Mike can do the rewiring but we absolutely don't have the money to do it right now. Slip rent is $625 and due on the 5th. We won't even talk about the boat and car insurance, cell phone service, and the car payment.
Mike has been doing side work to make as much cash as possible while he waits to see if the company that is interested in hiring him actually gets the defense contract. I'm going to try to pick up side work interior cleaning luxury yachts.
I've been looking at Guru.com to try and pick up technical writing work but I'm up against Bangalore, India pricing. I'm thinking of advertising on Craig's List. How about, technical writer will work for food and wiring.
It's been a rough week. Last night I looked up through the screened hatch in the V-berth. I'd just finished giving Mike a back massage because he is sore from detailing yachts. I could see a star and I made a wish. Let the wind be strong and steady. Then I asked God to bless and keep us.
I know this will pass, it just seems overwhelming right now.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Slack Tide, No Wind, A Miracle Occured
It was perfect. The sun was setting, the wind had died down to nothing, and we were at slack tide. Jim, our new friend who lives on the hook said, Let's try it. Tom, a seasoned sea captain who has been twice around the horn said, Now or never. Will, one of my adopted bachelors, answered my phone call.
Will, we are moving the boat. Mike really needs you now.
Will asked, How are you going to do this?
I told him that Jim was going to use the tender and we need people on the dock to grab the lines. I think he could here the urgency in my voice. He was over to the T-dock in a flash. Ross, a nice young man who lives aboard, came over to see the commotion.
Will shook his head and said that the little inflatable didn't have enough power.
Well, I said, we need to get to our slip. The marina office needs the T-dock for a catamaran that just came in. No more stalling. We either have to find a way to fix the engine tomorrow or get the boat to our slip.
Tom jumped onto Sovereign and the bystanders became the crew. Ropes were loosened, I was at the wheel, Jim's tender was tied to our port side. He started his engine and we left the dock. At that moment I realized that Mike was still on the dock. It's just Tom and me on the boat with Jim in his tender. A small panic attack on my part but I didn't show my fear to Tom or so I thought. Tom stepped up to the wheel and said, Why don't I take over here and you move those ropes out of the way. Get ready to throw ropes when we get to the dock.
We started puttering away from the dock. At that point, Jim said, I don't have enough power to do this. All I could think of was, I guess I will be calling Boats US again to tow us out of the harbor or we will hit the bridge or one of the nice million dollar yachts in the next marina.
Tom said to Jim, Just point it straight, we are going to head under the bridge, get room to maneuver, and then bring her back in. I'll steer from here - we just need momentum.
And that is what happened, Tom steered us under the bridge, we looped in the roomy part of the harbor, and smoothly slid into our slip on K dock. The guys were there to grab lines and keep us from hitting the dock and it was perfect. Thanks to Tom of the Slocum, Jim of the two masted boat that we don't know the name for, Ross, Will, and my husband.
We are now safely in our slip and all is right with the world. In fact, one of the dolphins came to make sure we were welcomed to our new home. For our celebration party, I made smoked sausage and kraut. We fed the awesome people who helped us and then I properly beat Tom, Will, and Mike in Texas Hold 'em.
Life is good. Now, Mike will be working on the 101 problems with the boat. The engine, the wiring for the lights, the water that pumps in spurts and soaks me when I wash dishes, and more.
Ah well, that's life on a boat.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
The Cats Are On The Boat
Last week we brought the three cats onto the boat. Although I wanted to change their names to Chum 1, Chum 2, and Sharkbait, Mike refused. So, Pequat, Arwen, and Sparkle are now getting used to their new home. I had to return to Knoxville to pick up and sell more things and Charleston got hit with some really bad weather. Poor Mike. Two of the three cats got seasick. My cat, Pequat, was fine. I feel a little guilty because I wasn't here to help.
Today, the weather in Charleston is perfect and the cats are happy. Will is coming over for poker tonight. We will have some cold sweet tea, bruschetta on grilled bread, and maybe some jambalya.
I missed the boat (and my husband) the entire time I was in Knoxville. I can't wait until that life is over and this one is really started.
No - the boat engine still isn't working. Mike hasn't been able to work on it with the boat rocking.
Bad news. Will has been accepted at MMI in Orlando. He is leaving next week to start marine engine repair school. Ah well, we just keep making friends and I know that we will see him again.
Today, the weather in Charleston is perfect and the cats are happy. Will is coming over for poker tonight. We will have some cold sweet tea, bruschetta on grilled bread, and maybe some jambalya.
I missed the boat (and my husband) the entire time I was in Knoxville. I can't wait until that life is over and this one is really started.
No - the boat engine still isn't working. Mike hasn't been able to work on it with the boat rocking.
Bad news. Will has been accepted at MMI in Orlando. He is leaving next week to start marine engine repair school. Ah well, we just keep making friends and I know that we will see him again.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sailing with a friend!
I went sailing yesterday with our new friend Will on his Hunter 30. Weak wind, but a good experience for me to see how the lines and sails work. Got up to a blistering two knots! Made me much more confident that yes, we can do this.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Airhead is in, the Airhead is in!
I successfully cut a hole in the boat, installed the fan, and sealed it up. Rain test showed that it does not leak. More importantly, we have a fully functional toilet! It'll take a month to see how the composting thing works. But here is the final head installation:
And this is the fan install. Note the sleeved wiring!
So, one major project down and done!
Editing: Looks like I reposted the AirHead victory. But the wifi at the marina is sketchy at best, and it looked like Monday's post didn't take, many failure messages. Well, I'll leave 'em both up, what the hey.
And this is the fan install. Note the sleeved wiring!
So, one major project down and done!
Editing: Looks like I reposted the AirHead victory. But the wifi at the marina is sketchy at best, and it looked like Monday's post didn't take, many failure messages. Well, I'll leave 'em both up, what the hey.
Update on Repairs and Life on the Sovereign
Well, Mike has been very creative in fixing problems on the boat. He has finished the AirHead installation, installed the fuel pump and raw water strainer, and put up the safety netting so the cats will be a little less likely to fall in the water.
We had a really rocky night last week with the waves pounding us against the T-dock. It lasted from early afternoon until about 4:30 a.m. I woke up when it stopped and checked to see if we were still tied up to the dock. Mike did not get to sleep until around 1:00 a.m.
He was afraid that we would lose a cleat and be floating away. No - we are fine and the ropes and cleats looked just the same the next morning. I think that we will be a little less nervous next time the weather turns.
I'm really glad we got the gold membership from Boats US. We've been cycling a lot of money into West Marine.
I've successfully cooked omelets, soup, garlic toast, and shrimp and sausage jambalaya on the Coleman propane stove. Our new best friend, Will, is a live aboard and he likes my cooking. We had a fantastic St. Patrick's day dinner on his boat. Danny, who has been living aboard for 30 years, is a new friend with lots of useful information. Will grilled steaks and served a delicious pasta and we told jokes and laughed a lot.
I do have just a bit of boat envy. Duane, our neighbor for the moment, has a gorgeous boat with a galley to die for. Ah well, Sovereign will be there someday. Until then, my little galley is just fine.
Katie
Note: for those considering living on a boat, stop considering and do it now. Even the problems that you have to deal with are nothing compared to the joy, good sleep, team building, and good people that you will meet.
We had a really rocky night last week with the waves pounding us against the T-dock. It lasted from early afternoon until about 4:30 a.m. I woke up when it stopped and checked to see if we were still tied up to the dock. Mike did not get to sleep until around 1:00 a.m.
He was afraid that we would lose a cleat and be floating away. No - we are fine and the ropes and cleats looked just the same the next morning. I think that we will be a little less nervous next time the weather turns.
I'm really glad we got the gold membership from Boats US. We've been cycling a lot of money into West Marine.
I've successfully cooked omelets, soup, garlic toast, and shrimp and sausage jambalaya on the Coleman propane stove. Our new best friend, Will, is a live aboard and he likes my cooking. We had a fantastic St. Patrick's day dinner on his boat. Danny, who has been living aboard for 30 years, is a new friend with lots of useful information. Will grilled steaks and served a delicious pasta and we told jokes and laughed a lot.
I do have just a bit of boat envy. Duane, our neighbor for the moment, has a gorgeous boat with a galley to die for.
Katie
Note: for those considering living on a boat, stop considering and do it now. Even the problems that you have to deal with are nothing compared to the joy, good sleep, team building, and good people that you will meet.
Monday, March 16, 2009
AirHead Installation
The scary part was cutting a 3" hole in the side of the boat. Once that was done, the rest was fairly easy. I'd already routed the exhaust hose up through the shelves to keep it mostly out of the way and allowing just the minimum bend radius. Wiring in the 12VDC to the fan was not a problem, either. Here's the fan mount, up and running:
After a goodly bit of vacuuming--lots of fiberglass dust--we finally have a fully functioning AirHead composting toilet:
So, we are one step closer to enviro-friendliness!
After a goodly bit of vacuuming--lots of fiberglass dust--we finally have a fully functioning AirHead composting toilet:
So, we are one step closer to enviro-friendliness!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Beware of Contractors Bearing Gifts
As Katie said below, there are still problems with the boat, but at least it's home...or within sight of home.
The tow home was cold and exciting, probably a lot more work keeping our boat lined up behind the tow vessel than just steering it in a reasonably straight line would have been. Good practice, though, and good exercise. And we do now have power and water and urinal facilities.
The engine is all kinds of clustered, thanks to our former contractor who will remain nameless (I'll just call him Harry Lenderson). It ran and idled fine after a bit of work bleeding the lines two weeks ago. Then...Harry stripped the threads in the primary filter housing while "tuning" it, so we had to replace that. At his suggestion, I disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled the secondary filter; now it leaks air. And Harry then removed a hardline in order to bypass said secondary...and took it with him; it's gone. He also broke the fuel pump by continually futzing with it; that piece is on order, too. So the engine can't run right now.
When it does run, it bogs down and stalls in forward gear...apparently because the zinc collar Harry installed is too large and binds up the shaft in one direction. So we get to pay a diver to remove it, then a machine shop to grind it down (though I could likely do it myself if I had access to a bench grinder), then a diver again to put it back on and hope it fixes the problem. Then we can swing about to our actual home slip and throw a welcome mat on the dock.
Despite all that, I'm very happy. I sleep very well on the boat, and I smile a lot more. All these problems shall pass...to be replaced, of course, with new ones, but hey! C'est la vie afloat, right? It's all good.
The tow home was cold and exciting, probably a lot more work keeping our boat lined up behind the tow vessel than just steering it in a reasonably straight line would have been. Good practice, though, and good exercise. And we do now have power and water and urinal facilities.
The engine is all kinds of clustered, thanks to our former contractor who will remain nameless (I'll just call him Harry Lenderson). It ran and idled fine after a bit of work bleeding the lines two weeks ago. Then...Harry stripped the threads in the primary filter housing while "tuning" it, so we had to replace that. At his suggestion, I disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled the secondary filter; now it leaks air. And Harry then removed a hardline in order to bypass said secondary...and took it with him; it's gone. He also broke the fuel pump by continually futzing with it; that piece is on order, too. So the engine can't run right now.
When it does run, it bogs down and stalls in forward gear...apparently because the zinc collar Harry installed is too large and binds up the shaft in one direction. So we get to pay a diver to remove it, then a machine shop to grind it down (though I could likely do it myself if I had access to a bench grinder), then a diver again to put it back on and hope it fixes the problem. Then we can swing about to our actual home slip and throw a welcome mat on the dock.
Despite all that, I'm very happy. I sleep very well on the boat, and I smile a lot more. All these problems shall pass...to be replaced, of course, with new ones, but hey! C'est la vie afloat, right? It's all good.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Almost Home
We finally moved to the Charleston City Marina and almost made it to our slip number. It is a long story but there are a few more things that need to done before she can cruise on her own. The contractors (not the Charleston City Boat Yard) broke or did a poor job on several necessary items and we ended up having to have her towed to harbor. We have a new fuel pump on order through Superior diesel and then we have to get a diver to go in, take off the zinc collar, and have someone grind it down so that it doesn't hit against the propeller shaft when she goes forward. We are at the end of our dock and have started meeting the neighbors. It is a quiet little neighborhood but the people are helpful and friendly. As Greg at the boat yard said, liveaboards have to help each other because no one else will. So, friendly advice, it is better to pay $85 an hour and get quick and guaranteed work than to pay $60 an hour and have more things broken than fixed.
We both kinda of wish we could stay at the end of the dock. The dolphins love to play near where we are and watching them is great fun.
The Charleston City Marina is convenient and the dock hands are very helpful. They let us borrow a splitter so that we could hook our 30 amp to the 50 amp at the end of the dock.
Oh - the AirHead is in. It isn't completely installed yet but can be used for #1. That is very helpful since the bath house is about a 5 minute walk. Mike says that I'm losing weight already!
Lots of walking and the natural pilates of the rocking boat seems to be doing the job.
We are back in Knoxville trying to sell more things. The Miata sold yesterday, thank heavens. Now we have to get someone to buy the house and our timeshare.
Oh - we are getting the best sleep on the boat than we have had in years.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Getting closer to the Marina
After a lot of work by contractors, the Charleston City Boat Yard, and my dear husband, the boat is almost ready to go to its new home. McKenzie Estes at the Charleston City Marina has a spot picked out for us.
Meanwhile, our AirHead composting toilet is sitting in our office. After we sell a few more things this weekend, we will be heading back down to Charleston to make all of the final arrangements.
Randy "Cousin Randy" is a seasoned sailor and will be taking us down the river, through the harbor, and finally to our slip in the marina.
Waking up this morning on the water was wonderful. The boat was gently rocking and the view was beautiful. I turned off the little space heater so that I could make coffee. I'm so glad that I will be able to keep my Senseo coffee maker.
Monday, February 23, 2009
How much does it cost?
Here is our running total for our home
Non-boat yard labor and parts for:
Boat yard repairs and parts:
Repairs and equipment by Mike:
Must have books:
Sailing for Dummies (used at McKays)
US Coast Guard Rules of Navigation (new at West Marine)
Chapman's Piloting, Seamanship, and Navigation (used at McKays)
The Live Aboard book (used at Amazon)
Other miscellaneous books on marine diesel engines, electrical systems, etc. (used at Amazon or McKays)
Total: $100.00
Running total: $14,928
- 33' Soverel - $6,000
- Survey - $578.00
- BoatUS membership - $157.00
- Documentation - $198.00
- Compliance Survey - $225.00
- Boat Name Painting - $300.00
- Boat US Insurance (liability only) - $270.00
- Charleston Marina deposit - $400.00
Non-boat yard labor and parts for:
- Bottom painting (paint and labor)
- Replacing all hoses and clamps
- Removing old diesel oil
- Removing old water
- Removing and capping sewage system
- Zinc installation
Boat yard repairs and parts:
- New bilge pumps
- Plumbing
- Sea cocks
- New water pump
- New electric wiring to pumps
- Rudder packing
- Pulling back out for compliance survey
Repairs and equipment by Mike:
- Fuel pump plus gasket
- AirHead Composting toilet
- Sea strainer
- Flares
- Klaxon Horn
- Life Ring and brackets
- Coleman propane stove with griddle
- Leak repairs (handrails) with help from cousin Randy
- Trash and oil placards
- Wet/Dry vacuum
- Safety Netting
- SOS distress flag
- Bleeder hose
Must have books:
Sailing for Dummies (used at McKays)
US Coast Guard Rules of Navigation (new at West Marine)
Chapman's Piloting, Seamanship, and Navigation (used at McKays)
The Live Aboard book (used at Amazon)
Other miscellaneous books on marine diesel engines, electrical systems, etc. (used at Amazon or McKays)
Total: $100.00
Running total: $14,928
Sovereign went into the water today
After a year on land and working every weekend for the past month, Sovereign went into the water today. Special thanks to Neil Haynes-Blue Water Surveys, Larry Knapp - Charleston City boat yard, Randy Thompson, Mike of Mike and Larry, Boat U.S., and Brian Davey. Larry Knapp at the boat yard is a great guy and gave us a lot of good advice and excellent service.
Our next step is to bring her safely to the Charleston City Marina. I'm waiting here in Knoxville for the new Garmin hand-held GPS with Charts. Mike is making sure that everything is going well in Charleston.
We've ordered the AirHead Composting toilet. I can't wait till that comes in. Climbing down the 10 ft. ladder in the middle of the night and walking to the restroom is not fun.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The long-term plan, in broad outline...
...is to go all-green eventually. Compost toidy for clean sapient emissions. For electricity, lots of solar cells and a wind jenny, maybe a towed impeller as well. Eventually ditch the diesel and go with a ~30hp electric motor, gang up a bunch of batteries, and presto! No fossil footprint at all, minimal chemical footprint as well. Then a desalinization device of some kind for fresh water at sea.
A beautiful name
Brian Davey is a remarkable artist. Brian came to the Charleston City Boat yard last Saturday and painted our boat's name and port city on the back of Sovereign. Brian is a wonderful person and gave us a lot of good advice on marinas, sailing, and the Charleston area. He also helped us check our sails and showed us how to properly fold and stow them.
If you want a skilled and professional artist to handpaint your boat's name, use Brian.
Brian Davey can be reached at bdavey55@comcast.net or 843-557-0558.
Electricity and Poop
Research is fun.
Currently--pardon the pun--looking into chargers, inverters, and charger/inverter combos. Thinking 40 amps DC is a bit of overkill, but better to have it and not need it. For AC, 3kW seems to cover our needs. So we're looking at about a grand and a half for power system upgrades thus far...not counting new wiring, terminal blocks, grounding blocks, gremlin traps, and such.
As for the head, we're going with a composting toilet. Got the idea online, along with the idea of using coconut bricks for the compost base. Maybe we can even use the compost to grow catnip for the feline crew.
Currently--pardon the pun--looking into chargers, inverters, and charger/inverter combos. Thinking 40 amps DC is a bit of overkill, but better to have it and not need it. For AC, 3kW seems to cover our needs. So we're looking at about a grand and a half for power system upgrades thus far...not counting new wiring, terminal blocks, grounding blocks, gremlin traps, and such.
As for the head, we're going with a composting toilet. Got the idea online, along with the idea of using coconut bricks for the compost base. Maybe we can even use the compost to grow catnip for the feline crew.
Making Ready
Well, the boat is not yet wet.
Spent all of last weekend working all day every day to fix the myriad things a-wrong with her. The wiring needs to be redone and I'll be working on that. Many hoses are rotted and need to be replaced and I'll be working on that too. Needs a very thorough cleaning and--wait for it--I'll be working on that as well.
Heading down to Charleston for a solo weekend of boat maintenance.
Spent all of last weekend working all day every day to fix the myriad things a-wrong with her. The wiring needs to be redone and I'll be working on that. Many hoses are rotted and need to be replaced and I'll be working on that too. Needs a very thorough cleaning and--wait for it--I'll be working on that as well.
Heading down to Charleston for a solo weekend of boat maintenance.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Beginning
A poem by Richard Harvey
The Sea Gypsy
The Sea Gypsy
| I AM fevered with the sunset, | |
| I am fretful with the bay, | |
| For the wander-thirst is on me | |
| And my soul is in Cathay. | |
| There ’s a schooner in the offing, | 5 |
| With her topsails shot with fire, | |
| And my heart has gone aboard her | |
| For the Islands of Desire. | |
| I must forth again to-morrow! | |
| With the sunset I must be | 10 |
| Hull down on the trail of rapture | |
| In the wonder of the sea. |
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