Here’s another photo from our honeymoon in Maine, way back in 1889. Not sure which of us took this one, but the composition looks like Pip’s (Ed. Apparently it’s HB’s)
Down for the Count
I’VE been laid low this week by a nasty bout of viral gastroenteritis (stomach “flu”) that has me sleeping most of the time and unable to eat. Even though most of what I’ve missed is hours at work and a couple of social events, and wouldn’t have made much progress on preparations anyway, I find myself fretting horribly about getting things done. Sheesh, this is stressful stuff.
Nonetheless, things are proceeding — the guys we hired to install the lights and drywall in the basement are nearly done after two days of work, and I can finally how it will all look when it’s done. I’ve set a tentative meeting with a property manager for this weekend, assuming I’m actually functioning by then. Philip continues to varnish the mast and strip the mizzen, though he took today off to rest his poor, tired body. And if my poor, tired body recovers in time, this weekend promises to be absolutely gorgeous – 75 and sunny – meaning we should make lots of progress on the boat as we won’t be fighting against 100 degree heat.
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Ow
TAKING a much needed rest day today. I’ve been working long hours at the boatyard, and my body is unaccustomed to so much physical labour. I am sore all over.
I am up to the 9th coat of varnish on the mainmast, and have nearly completed stripping the mizzen. The cabin is starting to look less like a storage unit and more like a living space as I reinstall bits that were removed for transit.
I’ve started to work on the bowsprit in between other jobs: there’s actually quite a few different things to do there. The bobstay fitting has a crack in it; failure of that could easily bring down the whole rig–sails, masts and all. In order to replace it, I have to remove it, which requires unloading all the chain in the chain locker, which I have to do manually since there is no power for the windlass. Next, the sprit itself is out of line; I need to make sure that’s not a problem, and have it pulled and dealt with if it is. Then I need to repair the bowsprit platform brackets and reinstall said platform.
Hardly any work at all, really.
Photo of the Day: Giant Seagull Terrorizes Maine
I was browsing through our Flickr albums looking for good pictures of the Goblin for her for-sale ad, when I found this old photo of a Herring Gull that HB took on our honeymoon in Maine. I thought it warranted a Photo of the Day.
(Pip, the above sentence makes it sound like HB took a Herring Gull with her on your honeymoon. This is why we break up clauses into sentences — ed.)
Tonnage: Now With Half the Calories!
WHEN I submitted our application for US Coast Guard documentation, I also submitted an application for ‘simplified measurement’. This will allow us to take advantage of new USCG rules on the calculation of the Picaroon’s tonnage.
A vessel’s tonnage–not to be confused with it’s displacement, or weight–is a measure of it’s cargo capacity. Gross tonnage is the total volume of the vessel, whereas net tonnage is the volume of useable cargo space. The term derives from the number of tuns (casks) a boat could carry.
Between her original measurement and simplified measurement, the Picaroon has trimmed six off her gross tonnage and five off her net tonnage to 18 and 16 respectively.
It probably makes no difference, but if anyone charges for something by tonnage, it may save us a few simoleons.
What She Looked Like 10 Years Ago
WHILE Philip’s journalistic integrity apparently prohibits him from posting pictures of the boat in anything but its current rather sad-looking state, I have no such compunctions.
Philip and I first met Picaroon, nee Summerwind, in Ventura, CA in the year 2k. Dad and Stef had just moved onto the pretty girl, in preparation for their own big adventure in Mexico.
From the bow:
Stef and Heather chillin’ in the cockpit:
In 2001, Philip and I visited Dad and Stef on Summerwind in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, thereby launching our own dream of a big sailing adventure. Little did we know we’d be on the same boat!
Summerwind in Marina Vallarta:
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Leaving a Life
SIXTY-SIX days. Nine weekends. That’s how long we have to get everything in order.
It’s terrifying. Philip and I have been wavering between, “No problem – we can do this!” and “OMG, OMG, what are we thinking??? There’s no way to get all this done!”
We’re shooting to be out of the house and on the boat by the beginning of November. While we may take a bit more time working on the boat in the Chesapeake before heading south to warmer climes for the winter, that leaves us a pretty tight timeline to get everything done, at least what can’t be done on the boat once we hit said warmer climes. We hope to be headed for the Bahamas before Christmas, when the trade winds kick in.
I’ve given notice at work – my last day will be October 29 – and am working on finding my replacement. We will be renting the house, which means that we have to finish the basement renovations and paint the front before we leave. There’s still a ton of work to be done on the boat, and Philip’s pulling 10 hour days of hard labor in the 100 degree heat to try to get it done.
What’s more complicated is all of the details of leaving a life. In addition to the aforementioned rental renovations, we have to somehow dispose of a decade’s worth of accumulated stuff. We’re selling what we can and giving the rest away. It’s oddly satisfying, paring down to the bare essentials. You quickly realize how much you don’t need, from the unused sports equipment to the kitchen appliances, to live a full and happy life. We’ve been incredibly frugal over the past 9 years, saving every penny we can for this adventure and eschewing unnecessary crap, but we still had a basement full of junk and more stuff than we need.
A couple of weeks ago, within the course of a couple of days, my parents and several friends sent me an article from the New York Times about how having less stuff can make you happier. True, but what they didn’t discuss was how damn much work it is to get rid of all your stuff.
Sure is liberating, though. A couple of months ago, I burned all my journals and boxes of “memories” that went back 30 years. When asked why by a visiting friend, I started opening the journals to random pages: angst, angst, and more angst. At some point in my life journey, probably thanks to yoga, I’d realized that all of it was just STUFF, heavy stuff, weighing me down, and needed to go, because everything we are is who we are in this moment. When I was younger, and more uncertain of myself, I’d re-read my journals regularly, valiantly trying to decode my current self from my past self. At some point, that just seemed, well, not only unnecessary, but untruthful. At each and every moment of our lives, we choose who we are in that moment. Not that the past isn’t relevant, but that the part that is relevant is only that which you carry inside, and how you choose to deal with it today.
So I created a bonfire in my backyard grill, and torched that shit. It was fantastic.
I only wish getting rid of the rest of the crap in my house were that easy.
Enter the Mizzen
WRITING this in Des Moines, Iowa, where HB and I are taking a vacation.
On Monday, as well as getting the fifth coat of varnish on the mainmast, I started work on the mizzenmast. The yard boys hoist it off the deck, where it had made the journey from Mexico, and put it on horses next to the boat–it’s a bit more exposed to dust there, so I will have to be careful.
First job: photograph the whole thing to make sure I know where the hardware goes, then on to removing same. Took a few hours to get almost everything off. The gooseneck bracket–where the boom attaches to the mast–is very firmly glued on, and I ran out of time to get a couple of other pieces off. The sail track is off though.
When I get back, it’s time to start stripping the paint off.
Polishing Bronze
NO, no, I’m not that much of a masochist. I’m not planning on shinying up all the bronze hardware–that’s most definitely a fool’s errand. That said, it’s traditional that the ship’s bell be kept polished, and that, at least, I can do (until I get sick of it, I suppose) given that we are fortunate enough to have a proper bronze ship’s bell.
The bell was in the default state of marine bronze: that is, green. Verdigris is pretty damn tough stuff (kind of the point of using bronze in the first place), so trying to elbow grease it off is going to hurt. Fortunately, there’s a better way.
You can use pretty much any acid, I reckon, including ketchup, apparently. I used vinegar, with some salt and flour to make a thick paste. After about an hour with that concoction plastered all over it, the verdigris was gone, leaving the bell clean and yellow, albeit still in need of a shine.
A few minutes with a Brasso-anointed rag and the bell was as shiny as the day it was cast. Badabing, badaboom.
Farewell Sail on the First Picaroon
ALAN–the old Picaroon’s new skipper–invited us (HB, cousin Stef, and me) for a farewell sail on the her today, so we could show him the finer details and pecularities of this particular vessel.
Alan drove well, hardly hit anything he wasn’t supposed to, and was generally a delightful host. Winds were gentle, as per for the Bay at this time of year, but with the big genoa up we were able to sail for a couple of hours before taking her back up into the cove one last time (for us) and anchoring up against Big Island until early evening.
Mellowed-outness was had by all, and Stef took this pretty pikcha: she has more at www.littlemisstwig.com.
