Captain's Log....

Saturday, July 20th
Night.  Scary.  REALLY SCARY! In all my years of living in lightning country, tonite took the cake.  Both Ron and I agreed it was the worst lightning storm either of us had ever lived through.  For the first time ever, I covered my eyes and ears with a pillow to avoid having to deal with it all, in true ostrich fashion.  Hours and hours of strikes directly overhead, and miracle of miracles, we didn't get hit.  God was giving it one last go - GET OUT OF PANAMA OR ELSE!

Sunday, July 21st
We did, and left bright and early the next morning.  I admit to trepidation.  Our last attempt to make it to Ecuador didn't end the way we would have liked, but as we all know with sailing, you need to adjust expectations periodically.  It was sunny, and although we were motoring with the main up, all was well.  Then, of course, clunk, clunk, THUNK.  Ron threw the gear lever into neutral, went below to check "stuff", and came up and said "we have to go overboard to check the propeller."  Now, anyone that knows us knows that in this case, "we" means "Heather".  Adrenaline stampeding through my veins, I tossed off my clothes while Ron found the snorkeling gear.  Stark, raving naked (funny phrase - must you always be stark and raving if you are naked, one wonders?) with flippers and a mask on (can't you just picture it? - you shouldn't, but.....).  Sure enough, a tree sized branch, combined with 55 miles of various diameter line, had wrapped itself around our propeller.  Ron threw me a fancy/schmancy Japanese saw used to removed teak plugs flush to the deck, and I proceeded to cut away the offender.  No harm, no foul, and 20 minutes later we were underway again.  Just another day in the life.....

Monday, July 22nd
Our routing was a point of discussion.  Everyone has an opinion.  The last time we went out, we were told "go west, go west", in order to avoid a north-setting current along the coast. We did and got the snot beat out of us due to swells.  This time, Ron had done a bit of research on currents, and found an interesting link on the NOAA website, http://www.oscar.noaa.gov/.  Very enlightening and basically showed a highway running from north to south that we could follow.  This changed our routing from our last attempt to this one and we were much happier.  The winds were still on our nose, and we closehaul motor-sailed, but at least we were making 4-5knots.  All good.

Tuesday, July 23rd
It's now been two nights out, and not a hint of lightning.  We are very grateful.  We had a moment (brief) that we shut the motor off to give it a break, and actually got out the genoa for a few hours.  Still cloudy, and we would still like a bit more wind, but I say it quietly, just in case I should jinx our conditions.

Wednesday, July 24th
Crap conditions today.  Should have known better than to ask for more wind.  We got it, directly ahead of us.  The staysail was the hero today, giving the engine a bit of help, but not much.  Big swells coming also from the southwest, so terribly uncomfortable.  8-10' breaking waves, WTF?  Not again!!!!  We're following 80 degrees west, so at least the current seems to be helping, rather than hindering.  Crossed the Columbia/Ecuadorian border.  Spotted a sailboat in the distance and made contact with Frangapani, a boat we had identified a few weeks earlier in the Las Brisas anchorage.  They too had been miserable....Told us about a spot that they were headed to called Punta Same, to see some friends, just slightly south of Esmereldas.  We thought that might not be a bad idea.

Thursday, July 25th
Arrived Punta Same.  It was rolly, but what the hell, we were used to it.  Looked exactly like the Las Hadas area of Manzanillo, Mexico, albeit with no sunshine.

A few black flags to avoid, fishing lines, and 30+ pangas returning back from sea in the morning.  Had a great breakfast, and wandered the decks doing a bit of tweaking with some of the shackles, and bits.  Lazy day.

Friday, July 26th
A not-so-bright, and early start to the day.  Put on a pair of pants and a longish-sleeved shirt for the first time on the boat in 3 years!!!  Bigger winds today, 15-20 knots, more swells, blah, blah, blah.  But we had a party to look forward to.

The Equator!

Captain Ron is now a Shellback

Party ON!

Yes, we drink and sail

We had made sure to stock up on party supplies prior to our departure from Panama City, as we knew that we needed to do it up as we crossed the equator.  After much searching I finally found where I had stashed the Champagne (in the clothes cupboard, where else?!) As it always happens, it was at an unfortunate time of 11:53pm.  But the hats came out, the bottle was popped and poured.  Ron was channeling his inner Minnie Pearl (can you spot why?)

Saturday, July 27th

We had sent Tripp, owner of the mooring field at Puerto Amistad in Bahia Caraquez, where we hoped to pick up a ball for our stay while in South America, an email the day prior informing him our intended arrival time.  Unfortunately, we missed the high tide but were able to hang out at the mouth of Rio Chone, until the next high at 6pm.  As it was going to get dark quickly, we just threw out an anchor after we literally threaded our way through the mouth.  Not for the faint of heart, so we were glad to have Pedro, our faithful Piloto aboard guiding us through the VERY thin water.  Dead calm water......welcome home. 

First leg....complete!

While not a huge accomplishment, we've been able to haul our sorry asses out of Panama City, to begin our second assault on the equator. 

Sails were returned to us with brand new stitching only 2 days after they had been picked up by Roland (a fellow boatless French cruiser holing up in PC for awhile), for what we felt was a pretty decent price of $250.  It's all about the equipment and of course while I have a sewing machine on board, that didn't mean that my trusty friend Ken would be able to sew through 13 layers of sail material.  A bit of repair to the main, the blown out clew, new halyard loop and some repair to our sail cover on the jib, and we were back in business. 

We patiently (or not) waited for our friend Ean to make it back to Panama from his self (and needed) imposed exile to the US - he seemed to be quite happy regaling us with stories of unlimited water for his showers, great Thai food, clean sheets on his bed, museums and (gasp) culture, and proudly showed off a brand new shirt.  Bastard!  But....he did also agree to return with a suitcase of goodies for us, the most important being a brand new windicator.  Man, this thing is so pretty, and does so many things, that I fear I have been made redundant.  If I fire it up and it starts to make a pizza, I might as well throw my hands up and content myself with reading another book. 

This lifestyle is one of chance meetings.  We meet so many people in the various anchorages and villages we rock up to, but while the time spent together with new friends may be funfilled, we know that everyone has a different schedule and destination as their next port of call.  Over the last few years, we've met some people that are good for drink or two, but others we end up spending weeks and months with, rendezvousing in various bays and countries.  Ben Doolittle, of Knee Deep fame, was one of those men that we've spent considerable time with in El Salvador, and with his family had shared some pretty good memories.  Leo Lestant, while time spent was fleeting, was a memorable French character that we met years ago in Mexico, while he aided and abetted the mighty crew on Aquadesiac (is that the best name for a boat, or what?!) Somehow, not knowing each other, they both ended up being hired to bring Andiamo lll from Bahia del Sol, El Salvador to Panama, through the canal to the Caribbean, and put her to bed in the Shelter Bay Marina. 

We were disappointed to hear ourselves being hailed on the VHF, the day before we had decided to head out of the anchorage and to try to make Ecuador again.  It was Ben and Leo, saying "hey, let's get together for a beer on Friday night"  (we were scheduled to pull up the anchor on Saturday morning).  I say disappointed because I knew how it was all going to turn out.  I anticipated it being ugly, and it was. 

Hauling the More Joy crew with us, Ean and Jane were to be our buffers when we met up with the two guys up at the Balboa Yacht Club for "a few".  We proceeded to camp out there, not having a clue how the 20 jugs of beer kept showing up.  Jane, she was totally innocent.....she quietly plowed her way through her own 20 rum and cokes.  As I said, it was ugly. 

Now I must explain where we were anchored.  In the summertime, the preferred anchorage in Panama City is on the north side of the causeway.  This is due to the increased wind and swell that arrives from the south/southwest direction, sometimes making "the other side - La Playita" and bit (really) rolly.  We had taken refuge in Las Brisas, but the downside is that it has a difficult and dangerous dinghy dock (my use of alliteration would make my English professor proud).  Receding tides make for VERY slippery steps, and if one isn't paying 100% attention, problems could crop up.  Something about all that beer made me a bit less cautious, and I slipped my way from the stairs and into the briny blue.  It certainly wasn't a tragedy, and while I wasn't very happy with all my scrapes and slices from the barnacles, the thought foremost in my brain was the sight of a used condom on the steps the day before. 

Sometimes this life isn't so glamorous....

With a well-deserved hangover, we managed to get to the fuel dock the next morning, and with old beer streaming out of our pores, we made our way through filling up the diesel and water tanks, and headed south to Contadora.  Now, you might be wondering why, with our seeming lack of urgency to move ANYWHERE, why we felt it necessary to get out of town that morning.  Well, Jill on Rock and Roll Star was having a birthday, and we were not going to miss the party that was sure to be had at Isla Contadora.  We made it by dark, in time for round 2.  By the time we got back to our boat around 10pm, I was WRECKED, and hardly able to stand.  Fatigue, alcohol poisoning, too much fun.......it all contributed to a state I might have called "passed out" in my college years.  Apparently, this state of being follows you as you get older. 

And this is how we started our second assault on the equator.....

We've arrived.........BACK IN PANAMA CITY!!!!

You all need to pick your chins off the floor right now.  Ours have already been there; we’ve wiped the drool off and feel human again.  So let me tell you a story…..

Last Monday was an excellent start to the day.  We had finished our provisioning, and were ready to hit the high seas.  We picked up 2, 6 gallon jerry jugs filled with booze (one of Jack Daniels and one of Ron Abuelo) from Jane and Ean from More Joy Everywhere  (long story but we got the benefit of their purchasing and efforts) and dropped off “marina jewelry” (dock wristbands – those of you that know, will know).  We then set the sails for the southwest and with any luck, the sighting of the Ecuadorian coastline in about a week and ½.  Sigh, it was not to be.  

Can we get more wine, please?

Seems we're going to be gone a long time - at least a week

That's not water in there

 The first 24 hours was uneventful, and we made good time riding the south flowing current down the western coast of the Bay of Panama, averaging about 6 knots, and made Punta Mala in decent time.  Let out a little whoop-whoop when we crossed our ill-fated track from 6 months ago, arriving to Panama Bay.  The windicator we had tried to fix the week before was intermittent with information, but we could deal with it, as we had lots of telltales on the sails and shrouds to at least give us wind direction.   

With words of wisdom from Terry on Oh, Baby! we kept tacking through the southwest setting wind and swell, heading either west or south, and while it was slow going, it at least was going.  

So of course something has to happen (this is the short version).  The stitching on our outhaul clew board gives up the ghost, and we are left with a flapping main sail.  Oh, well, we’re a ketch, and we’ve probably sailed 50% of our time without our main, so no tragedy.  Another 24 hours passes, and Ron notices that we’ve got some horizontal wrinkles in our jib.  Mmmmm.   The loop for the halyard had ripped right through.   Gulp.  The mantra begins….we are a ketch, we’ve still got 2 more sails to use, and we’ve got an excellent John Deere engine.  

 

Now by this time, the benign weather had changed.  We were in 35 knots of wind, and 10 foot breaking waves.  These waves were coming at us directly from the dreaded southwest direction, our "go to direction" and as such we even had them coming over the bow AND over the pilothouse.  We’re not sailing in Mexico anymore, Dorothy!!!  

So of course something ELSE has to happen.  The autopilot chooses this moment to say, “nope, not gonna play.”  We were about 50 miles away from our first waypoint of Isla Malpelo, after a hard won 2 and ½ days.  NO AUTOPILOT?!?!  (After not being able to find my boat in a dark anchorage after a night on the town drinking, it is my worst nightmare to not have an autopilot)  After about a minute of discussion, we decided the prudent thing to do would be to head back to Panama City, and get ourselves sorted out.   So now the fun REALLY begins….

30 HOURS OF HANDSTEERING, 10 FOOT FOLLOWING BREAKING WAVES, 20 KNOT WINDS, CRAPPY WEATHER.

Notice the Pigpen like squall surrounding our boat

Yup, it's raining AGAIN

The sailors out there reading this, yes, it was as bad as it sounds.  With our trusty 3^rd crew member declining to participate, it was a 1 hour on, 1 hour off schedule. 

Upon arrival back in the Bay, the seas set down enough to be able to recalibrate our autopilot.  It took, thank god, but we were still committed to heading back. 

All told, our little burn around the Bay of Panama took 5 days, and cost about $500 in diesel.  Yay!!!

Good friends treated our arrival appropriately.  "We’re sorry you’re back, but great to see you."  Last night, Mike on Hartley said, “I hoped to never see you again.”  So funny, but only sailors would see that this was not a slam, but just a part of the life.  Because you see, he took off 2 days after we did, and also returned with the same blown out clew on his mainsail.  Weird!  

Our autopilot is operational again, and a new spare “brain” has been ordered.  A new skookum Garmin windicator/gps/barometer/thingymabob has also been ordered.  The sails are getting picked up today for repairs (I tried yesterday on the machine that our friends Matthew and Jill on Rock and Roll Star have but the thickness was too much – oh, for a Sailrite onboard!)   Ean from More Joy will hand deliver our new gear, plus a new starter motor that Ron had ordered months ago for the generator, when he returns to Panama on the 10^th.  Until then, we eat, drink and attempt to be merry.  

Meanwhile……the lightning continues. 

Life at an angle. Angle, not heel.

We've been pretty wishywashy these last few months.  When you aren't a trustfunder, and the money you use for cruising (after retiring at a fairly early age of 50) is not unlimited, counting pennies is important.  We have prioritized our lives, and one main priority was not working for someone else any longer (more on that later). Beer and wine is a priority, mmmm, not much more than that, but maybe a 6-pack of beer, and a case of wine, too.  Having the boat function well is a priority, but sometimes her looks have suffered.  It's hard on people, and on boats, to be full time cruisers, and instead of our boat looking really good at a dock in a marina due to unlimited fresh water, it is setup to have most systems operational, at the cost of some of the good looks and spiffiness taking a back seat.  We relate to our boat - I remember when I had clothes without holes in them, and when the shirts that were white, WERE actually white.  We cared about being clean, and having our hair washed.  If I'm lucky, my hair now gets combed once every three weeks, whether it needs it or not.  High heels have no place on a boat, but I do have an impressive collection of sandals, all acquired for an average of $3/pair.  Ron gets to have one pair and a spare, but my sandals take up a bit of his shoe room.  This is about all we have patience for.  Makeup - okay, once a month I try to remember how to apply some eyeliner, but it's always futile.  The boat rocking, and poor lighting inside, make my attempts juvenile at best, and embarrassing  at worst.  We'd given up on ourselves, but our mighty ship.......NEVER.

After 3 years, our bottom paint was about 50% black, and 50% blue, blue being the colour the hull was when we bought her, and black the colour we put on in the summer of 2010.  It was time to do the job, but the "where will it get done" seemed to be stumping us.  Upon leaving El Salvador in the fall of 2012, we intended to haul out at the Flamenco Marina in Panama City.  After a few months of being in Panama, and meeting people that had either used their travel lift or had heard stories, we were giving it another think-through.  It was going to cost thousands of dollars, as the haul-out/haul-in charge was $700, there was a per day charge on the stands, you couldn't do the work yourselves, you couldn't stay on the boat....and adding to that, the people reportedly were a bit snotty.  We had also heard of one boat (Eyes of the World) that due to mishandling of the haul-in process, had their prop shaft bent and motor mounts compromised.  We opted out of that option.

A few months ago we met Mark and Sylvia from Rachel 3, and for the first time ever I had a serious case of boat envy.  They had purchased a broken down shell of a boat down in Salinas, Ecuador, a 68' Formosa, that had seen better days.  The refit and subsequent love and care they received from the Stewart Yacht Works there, convinced us to wait until we made land in Ecuador and do the bottom job there.  However....that would mean that we would have to be scheduling ourselves to head further south, as we were hoping to put in, and stay put, for a few months in Bahia Caraquez, while we wandered hither and yon around south America.  Oh, the decisions!!!

We THEN heard about the rails at the Balboa Yacht Club in Panama City.  This is the staging area for all small boats heading north through the canal to the Caribbean.  We had seen the rails on one of our walks along the causeway, but hadn't really seriously considered it, due to the fact that we've got a beast of a boat, some 50,000 pounds when wet (no, that's not a sexual reference, just means that that is how much we weigh when we've got full fuel and water tankage).  But we'd been told by people with larger boats than ours, how good the system was, and how happy they had been with the service and with the price.  $30 out, $30 in, and $107 per day while up.  We could do the work ourselves, or we could hire a few workers at a cost of $60/day/person, our choice.  PLUS, we could stay on the boat, albeit at a slight angle.  But we're sailors, and what's a degree or two (or 20) between friends.  We were sold, and our wallets were heaving sighs of relief.

So that's what we did.  After a wait of 10 days for a spot to open up, we were told to arrive at 11am, high tide.  We were up and out of the water by 11:30, we had the whole boat scrubbed clean and sanded by 2pm, the boot stripe was taped and painted by 3:30, we were cleaned up by 4:30 and in the bar by 5pm.  A slight buzz commenced by 6pm.  A great first day!

Tied and Ready

UP she goes

Yes, it needs attention

Think we need new zincs?

Boot stripe sanded and taped

Starting to look respectable

Bottom scraped, sanded, and ready for bottom paint.  Boot striped painted.

The next day's work didn't start until 10am, due to significant rainfall early on, which enabled me to avail myself of the Yacht Club's washing machines and dryers.  Taping off the boot stripe finished by 10:30 and the first coat of bottom paint was on by 11:30am.  An hour of "curing" and the second coat was on by 1:30pm.  Last coat along the waterline 1/2 hour later, and the 5 gallons of paint we had purchased was out of the can and on our hull.

Now that's more like it

Too bad it never lasts....

Is that a smile?  Nah, that's definitely a grimace

Ready to splash, but.....

We figured we wait for the tide to turn, first

Evening after our last day of work

While we were out, 4 new zincs were installed, and Ron serviced the propeller.

New zincs EVERYWHERE

A brief scrub along the waterline to remove staining from the growth over the last few months, (with an amazing product called Easy On, Easy Off) and an hour later at 4pm we were headed to the showers, and then afterwards to the restaurant/bar at the Yacht Club with our friend Jane from More Joy Everywhere.  (Jane and her other half Ean are selling their catamaran.  If all my "interesting" posts over the last months have inspired you to take on this lifestyle, take a peek at their website www.morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com) 

We're back in the water now.  If you are needing to redo your antifouling, don't hesitate to consider using the railway system.  It sure worked for us, and the cost savings were tremendous!!!

The last two days have been a whirlwind of provisioning, getting ready for our trip to Ecuador.  And now I need a glass of wine.

All hail....THE BOY

This is a post to give massive credit to all men, and mine in particular. 

Living on a sailboat sounds very romantic.  Sure, we've sailed into the sunset, and we've had nightly cocktails on the poop deck, surrounded by the gentle lapping of the ocean against our hull, and we've explored places that one can only get to by boat.  We've smiled indulgently when people dinghy or kayak up to us, exclaiming about how much they like the look of our ketch.  We shake our heads when we read Facebook postings about snowstorms in May where we used to live.  We wonder at some of our friends plowing through the dreaded 16 hour workday, and if they think it's still worth it.  However......

When I was in school, primarily junior and senior high, while the boys had their noses into batteries, and science experiments, and shop classes disassembling and then reassembling engines, and mechanical "stuff", I was learning useful things like how to poach an egg (I'm not sure it warranted an entire day), how to sew a button on by hand (really?!?! that needs a class?!?!) and how to type, because as I was a girl, if I was so unfortunate as to have to enter the work force, I at least could then type a letter, and do a bit of steno work.  One semester I learned how to use a sewing machine.  I think it was the most useful thing I learned in school. 

Meanwhile, the boys were standing at their fathers' elbows handing them tools, learning how to cuss, and how to fix a car with a piece of duct tape, a bit of bailing wire, and a hammer.  They took shop class, and it actually seemed like it was required for a guy to spend at least one or two years up to their elbows in grease.  Most teenaged boys would go through a few cars, working their way up from the $500 beater, fixing it, trading it up, and onto their next challenge.  They'd get enough money to buy the "cool" body, never minding that the engine and systems might be compromised.  That, they knew they could fix.  The look of the thing tho - that you had to buy.  I am so grateful that Ron, my able and trusty captain on the boat, and in life, was one of those boys that didn't get the car given to them, that he learned how a battery worked, and that he's not afraid to get dirty.

The last week has been a challenge.  Our new solar panels arrived from Florida, as did our new radar.  Fellow boaters will know that just because you spent the money to get some new cool gear for your vessel, the easy work, paying for it, has been done.  The hard work is just beginning.  Installing the new panels was an exercise in patience.  Headliners had to come down, wiring had to be fed throughout the boat, new charge controllers needed to be hooked up, and then the boat had to be put back together.  The radar entailed more wiring, climbing up the mast in a pitching and rolling anchorage, securing the mount so it wouldn't, YET AGAIN, come undone and fall into the ocean while underway.  Drilling through decks, punching holes in the mast, it all takes time, effort, patience, knowledge, and a willingness to know that it's done right by doing it yourself.  All the while, envision being in a wet sauna.  You know, the one you pay big bucks for each time you're in a resort or at the gym.  The kind that people willing sit in in their homes, or hotels.  We get to do it for free, except we don't get to open the door and walk out.  Drinking gallons of water each day, without having to go to the head, refutes Newton's "for each action, there is an opposite, and equal, reaction".

So the above is the fun stuff.

In the midst of all this positive change, ongoing is our !@#$%!@#$% generator.  I have extolled the virtues of my sewing machine, made by Sears, but here I DO endorse Newton......for my positive action towards the Kenmore brand, I have an opposite and equally negative reaction to Entec and their piece of shit generators.  There is not one week that goes by that Ron does not have to work on that thing.  This last month has seen him rebuild the fuel pump, both water pumps, and the starter motor.  Hoses for both the coolant and fuel started leaking.....requiring more time with his hands in the grease, and covered in sweat. We know several other boats with these types of generators.  One pitched it overboard in a fit of pique, and one spends several hundred dollars every month or so to get it worked on.  Each morning, when we're ready to fire up the thing, I hold my breath to see if it will start, and if it does, how long it will keep going.  With the money we've spent on new parts, we could have purchased a new Honda 2000 and probably would have come out even.

If his head isn't in the toilet, it's in the generator

A few years ago, I decided that I needed to be a part of the smooth operation of our systems onboard.  We had an interesting battery monitor, one that Ron wasn't familiar with.  I thought I'd take this on, learn about it, read the instruction manual and really get to know how it worked.  Not only could I not figure the first paragraph out, I had to ask Ron for definitions of 9 out of 10 of the words in the very first sentence and what they meant.  I don't have the patience that my man does, (good thing I was never a mother!) and threw the booklet aside in disgust.

For those of you contemplating this lifestyle, it has it's wonderful moments.  But make sure that SOMEONE on the boat knows about mechanical stuff, how to fix a pump or two, and how to do a bit of wiring.  If no one does, YESTERDAY is the time to enroll in a class or two.  Forget about taking a sailing course - that's the easy part.  Anyone can sail.....it's the other systems maintenance that is crucial to your life and wellbeing of the boat, and all aboard.

Either that, or bring lots of cash, cuz you're going to need it! 

We are Travelers, with a CAPITAL T

We are travelers.  As our mode of transport is a sailboat some would call us sailors, and while we DO sail, mostly we travel.  As travelers by boat, we face a number of challenges and hurdles, like hurricanes, tides, currents, squalls, rolly anchorages, inadequate exercise, cramped living, etc., etc., etc.  All these things considered, traveling by boat is infinitely better than traveling by any other mode of transport. 

I have just returned from Vancouver, BC, with a quick stopover in San Diego before returning back here to our favourite spot in Panama City, the La Playita anchorage.  As such, it really was a case of trains, planes and automobiles, and that was before I even got out of Panama.  A few thoughts….

1) Rules are different outside of North America.  My taxi driver, who I picked up for a dollar to take me to the central location for the buses, was busy texting and talking the ENTIRE ½ hour I was with him.  Strangely, I was more impressed with his multitasking, than I was fearful of my life.  Maybe here the men can do more than one thing without causing a traffic jam, or an accident?

2)  After my taxi ride, I embarked upon the hottest trip I’ve ever been on in a bus.  Although the municipal buses here in Panama City are brand new, sparkly clean, and have lots of legroom (when used appropriately) they do not have shades, the windows do not open, and there are about 10% of the ones needed out on the road.  Hence, my trip from the central bus depot was like standing in an oven with every one of my friends (from my whole life).  Of course, the 20 minute trip took 2 hours because everyone from Panama City wanted to get on this particular bus.

3) The whole world does not have the same temperatures that we do here in Central America.  Was my brain addled from the heat and the humidity from the last 3 years?  I don’t know, but what I am now well aware of is that one pair of flipflops to go to one of the most sophisticated and cosmopolitan cities in North America is inadequate, inappropriate, and downright cold.  I was channeling my inner geisha girl when faced with my midnight to 6am layover in Chicago, I pulled a pair of ankle socks out of my backpack and tried to warm the icicles that used to be my toes, wearing them with my sandals.  It didn’t work and it looked stupid.  

4) I get the whole security checkpoint thing.  I’ve defended it, I understand it, I also rue it.  When one is employed (as I used to be) and traveling for business, you are on someone else’s clock.  You can stand in line waiting for……who knows what, but you can do it because it’s frankly part of the job.  Who cares?  You are still getting your paycheck if you stand in line, or are in a business meeting.  When you are NOT working, all of a sudden, the hour you spend in those lines is an hour closer to the time you meet your maker.  I’m not interested in that.  Therefore, I want a line especially for me to avoid wasting my life being told to take off the above flipflops (there could be a bomb in there), spread my arms and pretending I’m making snow angels, and defending my lifestyle to a bunch of unimaginative Immigration officials. 

5) WTF?  $6.02 for a cup of coffee and a scone?  I must admit tho that the absence of the drone of a generator was appreciated. Not worth $6.02, but appreciated.

6) North America has GOT to get their shit together.  Why can I get free internet in the Panama City and San Salvador airports, but have to pay in Chicago? 

I could go on and on.  Most of my friends from “before” are in the travel/tourism business, so they live all of the above and so much more.  I could do it when I was younger, but life now is so much more precious.  I’m starting to realize that perhaps I may not live forever, and so each day and moment is appreciated more than ever.  Our sailing lifestyle may have its own set of challenges, but they are all a part of this choice we’ve made and they frankly make so much better stories than…..”today I stood in line at the airport to get told to disrobe, and not talk back to lesser educated, less traveled, and incredibly boring individuals.”  I’ll take my 8 hour trip to the market for eggs, my 600 square feet of living space, my language-challenged taxi rides, and my dodging of wind squalls any day, over all those sorry disaffected souls, standing bleary and blankly in line. 

I just wish this lifestyle paid better. 

Disaster at Sea

It's only now that I can write about it.  Traumatic events have a way of numbing your brain until your heart (and your wallet) can handle it.  We had a disaster at sea......

I say we, but I was only a part of the recovery.  Not the initial tragedy.  I had made the great escape last fall from El Salvador.  I don't know whether it was hormones, or whether my body core, after 2 years living in steamy and sweltering conditions had had enough.   I told Ron, under the guise of needing to go for "boat parts", that I need to head north, so I booked myself a plane ticket to the LAND OF PLENTY - the US of A, in order to really escape the heat.

During cocktail hour, on the day prior to heading back to El Salvador from San Diego, I got a phone call.  Now, let me explain.  4:28pm on any given day is sacred in the Reimer household.  It's when we can exhale, talk about the day, and get busy with a drink.  Ron knows this, and yet......when I heard it was him on the phone, calling at this most inopportune time, I knew it was either really good news, or not.

It wasn't.

Apparently, our mizzen decided it had had enough.  For those of you non-sailors, that's the smaller mast on the back of the boat, the one that is "ONLY" 35 feet tall, and the one that holds the wind generator and radar, two fairly important components in our sailing arsenal.  Now lest you think that we had stressed the thing beyond endurance, it was a calm morning, we were anchored where we had been for the past 4 months in an estuary, it was dead calm, and Ron was down below happily plucking away at his computer.  He said he heard a roar, thought someone in another boat was bearing down on him, or that the world was coming to an end.  For a sailor, in simple terms, it was.

There are these things called chainplates.  They are the metal bits that run from deck level, down through the deck to below and bolt to the side of the hull.  Above deck, they have the wire bits attached and in turn, hold the masts up.  For our mizzen, we had 3 of these things on each side, and one of the them had given up the ghost, sending the mizzen crashing down.  Breaking it's fall was the bbq, installed on the railing.

Initially, the first thought is...."can we put her back together?", to be swiftly followed by...."of course we can, but how much is it going to cost?" 

Suffice it to say that we had our work cut out for us, but nothing on a boat, save a holing that leaves you on the ocean floor, is unfixable.  And this wasn't going to cut our sailing careers short, not for a minute.  We just had to walk through it, step by step, making lists, getting things replaced and made, and make a few decisions.  All was not lost.

Following are a few pics that tell the tale.....without showing the tears.

Friends at the ready

Bit of a mess

New use for a pillow

New view

Twisted mess

 

Last 10" removed

New Gooseneck

New Maststep

New tangs for future davits

Back up without the wind generator

This is a heartfelt thank you to all of our friends, fellow cruisers, and the people of San Salvador that were instrumental in getting us going again.