We finally left Palmetto Bay Marina, but what we hoped would be the beginning of our southward sail turned into a sea trial when the engine overheated, the GPS stopped receiving, and we discovered that our rigging was, well, a bit off. Remember that we hadn’t sailed her since last March! Both Brian and I were nervous about sailing her for the first time in so long. We were certain something was going to break, but we didn’t know what it would be. We motored out of Broad Creek at 2:30 pm on Sunday, I drove while Brian worked out the reefing lines and put up the mainsail with one reef. The wind was blowing about 10 -15 knots from the east – perfect sailing conditions for Illusion. Just before we turned to go out into the ocean we unfurled the jib and continued to motor sail.
We started having issues with the GPS cutting out as we looked for the markers indicating the narrow channel out to the ocean, but this was an on-going issue, so we were only a little concerned. Brian’s parents and Larry followed us out in Larry’s 19 ft. Key West and shortly after we pulled the jib out, Brian’s Dad radioed to let us know that the mast appeared to be tilting slightly forward, odd considering that we had just adjusted tension in the rigging and it should have been tilting slightly back. We decided to pull the jib back in and proceed with the mainsail and motor. Then, all of a sudden, I saw smoke pouring out of the engine box.
Brian quickly pulled the choke because the engine was overheating. The channel was very narrow and we were still at the beginning, trying to locate the next green marker. Then, to complicate the situation further, the GPS cut out again. It would have been extremely difficult for us to make it through the narrow cut without the GPS, so we decided to play it safe and turn the boat around. Brian sailed back to Palmetto Bay, up Broad Creek, and then anchored under sail power (a first for him). The sail back was beautiful and calm. After all the nervous tension earlier in the day – knowing that something would go wrong, but what? – the minute Brian cut off the engine, I was able to relax; something had gone wrong and I finally knew what it was. Neither of us were happy to turn back, but it was obvious that we had some kinks to work out.
Oh and check it out…Illusion is clean again – and kind of fancy after all that work! Imagine that…no more fiberglass dust or project clutter. 
I was a bit nervous as I strapped myself into the Bosun’s chair last Friday. It wasn’t that I was afraid of heights – I loved roller coasters and climbing (mostly trees) as a kid – but getting hauled up a tall pole on a swaying boat was entirely new to me. One of us needed to go up the mast to adjust the angle of the spreaders and then paint the top of them to protect them from the sun, and while Brian would have willingly gone, I wanted to give it a try.
Once I strapped myself into the chair, Brian began to haul me up using the halyard and another safety line. As I started to rise, I used my feet to work my way from the side of the mast to position myself over the boom. From there it was a straight shot up to the center of the spreaders, which is about halfway up our mast (which is approx. 49 feet tall). The higher I went, the more I began to swing from the rocking of the boat and the wind, so I embraced my primate roots and used my feet to grip around the mast.
I held myself steady between the stays as I checked the angle of the spreaders, and Brian walked up and down the dock to get a better view of their adjustment, hollering directions up to me. I matched up the angles as best I could considering that the spreaders had been handmade by Brian back in Rockville and weren’t exactly the same shape. When we were both fairly satisfied, he lowered me down to take a look for myself. To my relief, they looked much better.
Brian hauled me up again to paint the tops, but I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous the second time around. In fact, I stayed up there for another hour applying two coats of paint on each spreader. I have to say, I rather enjoyed it and the view is quite nice up there.
Also, for those of you who are wondering, we are leaving for Florida VERY soon!
“Ditching” the boat, or abandoning ship, is not something I want to contemplate before taking off on a sailing trip (in fact it absolutely terrifies me), but stocking the ditch bag is a necessary precaution, and I think I am off to a pretty good start so far. I wish I could say that I was this organized with all my projects…but the truth is that we recently had to reorganize the entire boat again… I posted about boat organization back when we first moved onto the boat, but after living aboard for a year, Brian and I found that we needed to put almost everything in a more appropriate location. Sigh. Such are the trials of living in a small space. And we will probably move things around again once we do some actual sailing.
I started my list of items to include in our ditch bag on the trip down from Charleston and began slowly putting it together a few weeks ago. The ditch bag contains survival tools that sailors would want with them in a life raft if they were ever forced to abandon ship. Hopefully there won’t be a need to abandon the boat at any point during our trip, however accidents can happen anytime, even on land, and there are so many unpredictable situations that we always have to be prepared for the worse. I actually feel safer just knowing that we have one, even partially put together, and in an organized state.
In the beginning, I just started tossing items in the bag as I found them on the boat or between our trips to Wal-mart and Target. But then….Eureka! As I was cleaning out the jeep, I found the emergency vehicle repair kit that my Dad gave me back when I first got my driver’s license. It had never been used and everything inside was still in its original packaging. Although it was targeted at car repair, it still included quite a few applicable supplies, such as a flashing red signal light, batteries, a rain poncho, band aids, antiseptic wipes, a bungee cord, electrical tape, cable ties, a water resistant case, and a few other goodies. After its discovery, I packed it to the max with more emergency gear and then threw it in the ditch bag (it has to go inside because the zippers on the kit aren’t watertight).
For those of you who might be curious, our ditch bag currently includes (there will be additions to this list):
Flares, compass, watch, whistle, lighter, a sparking device, small mirror, flashing red signal light, a waterproof hand-crank flashlight, regular flashlight, several packs of lithium batteries, a multi-tool – including pliers, screw drivers, knives, saw blade, can opener, etc. – regular screw driver and pliers, band aids, gauze, several feet of stretchy bandage wrap, antiseptic wipes, triple antibiotic, electrical tape, small bungee cord, cable ties, rain poncho, orange reflective vest, sunscreen, and a hand-held GPS unit.
I’ve already run out of space in the watertight bag I’ve been using, so the rest is on hold for now, but I am planning to buy a second one of equal size for additional items such as rope, a signal horn, a plastic sextant, a fishing reel, fishing line, a hook, a whole bunch of energy bars, and whatever other useful survival stuff I can find that will fit in there. We will of course also grab the VHF to radio for help, the SPOT unit (satellite tracking) which we would use to send out an emergency request for help, the dry box with our passports and other documentation, and a few jerricans of fresh water (and hopefully some canned food). We will be keeping both bags secured just under the companionway door for easy access in the event of an emergency.
It scares me to contemplate what I would need if I were drifting in a life raft in the middle of the sea/ocean for more than 24 hours, but that’s exactly the type of situation when the contents of this bag could greatly increase my chances of survival (and it has happened to other sailors before). So if any of you fellow sailors (or anyone else out there) has a suggestion for the ditch bag, by all means, please let me know. Thanks!
While Brian and I wait on one last part to arrive (the spring for the wind generator), we are working hard to knock out as many things on the to-do list as possible. One item that had been on my list since early last year was the sewing and construction of an awning to keep the boat cooler in the heat of summer when we are at anchor and without an AC unit. Last summer, we draped a tarp over the boom to keep some of the heat out, but it was noisy, ugly, and much of the deck was still exposed. I was reluctant to begin this project, even though Brian had bought 200 sq. ft of Sunbrella last May, because I had only ever sewn dresses prior; this was my first foray into canvas work. Also it was a huge project, both literally according to the amount of material necessary to cover a 37ft. boat, but also in the amount of sewing time.
We sketched out our grand plan for the awning as we sweated it out in the heat last summer. I’ve included several of our design sketches below. The awning had to be more complex than a simple rectangular shape because of the Dutchman system (folding guide lines for the mainsail) on the boom and because of the width of the fabric roll. We had to make two slits on one side of the awning with closing flaps that would fit around the lines. We also had to make a slit at the end of the boom and make a completely separate section in front of the mast to cover the v-berth. Then we decided that, to give it a nice shape and keep it high enough to walk under, we needed to sew loops and pockets on the underside for several lengths of tent poles to stretch over the boom (like ribs). We raided an old tent of Brian’s for those. All in all, we used up every last bit of that 5 ft. x 40 ft. of Sunbrella, save for about one square foot of scrap material. It took over a week to complete, but that was due to some machine issues; I have an old, very finicky, 1963 Singer Golden Touch and Sew. Not too shabby. We did end up taking it to a canvas guy for grommet installation in the end, but that was only because we made the mistake of buying the wrong type (without teeth) and couldn’t find the kind we needed anywhere locally.
And the verdict? It’s fantastic, well worth the many hours of labor: it sheds a nice warm light inside (yellow was a great color choice), creates additional wind flow and shade, and got a few compliments from the canvas guy.
I activated Illusion’s SPOT device, a personal locator beacon, a few days ago and set up our subscription. SPOT is a satellite tracking device, which we will activate when we are under sail for safety purposes. Brian and I debated for months whether or not to go with a SPOT or an epirb, but seeing as we are mostly going to be island hopping and aren’t planning to cross any oceans at this time, we felt that the SPOT would suffice. It also has quite a few bonus features, such as the tracking you see on the map above, and the ability to send a short predetermined message to let family and friends know that you are safe. How neat! Now you can follow on our journey on a google map! (I will also put a live map on my Trip page – click here – so you can access it straight through the website in the future.)
I took all the “right” classes in high school. If it wasn’t honors or didn’t offer advanced placement or weighted credit, then it wasn’t considered an option for me. I was lucky to take a digital photography class my junior year, but it didn’t count for anything – it was an elective. If I recall correctly, home ec (onomics) and shop class were part of a six week elective rotation in middle school, which meant that we had to take 2 weeks of three different courses of our choosing. At the time, home ec wasn’t high on my list, and I think I opted out so that I could take art, typing, and some other class I don’t remember. Looking back on this, there are two things that really upset me about this. First off, shop class was promoted to the boys and home ec to the girls. And secondly two weeks? What can one really learn about operating tools in two weeks. I suppose that these days, shop class could be considered too dangerous for middle schoolers, but that is another subject altogether.
Motor skills – that’s what I’m about these days. Last week I spent six hours exercising these skills and screwing down bolts for the lifelines, which requires much twisting of the wrist and pulling of triggers (drill and caulk gun). I spent some time in the garage with my Dad as a child; I knew the difference between a philip’s head screwdriver and a flat head, but it wasn’t until my year in AmeriCorps*NCCC that I really started to learn about the uses of power tools.
So my question is this: what ever happened to shop class and home ec? Sports are an excellent way of acquiring physical motors skills, plus they teach teamwork, but they don’t teach you about the practical applications of tools. And let’s consider the arts here. These skills are also important in crafting and art, which also require hand-eye coordination and a knowledge of tools. Knowing how to construct objects with the use of tools, and knowing which tool or method to use to get a certain result, is part of our species’ advantage over the animal kingdom; it’s one of the characteristics that makes us human. So why is the computer the only tool promoted in our schools?
I have been pondering this for a year now as art has quickly become my favorite pastime and my driving force. It is both challenging and relaxing, meditative, not to mention creativity is such an important asset in our society. So why wasn’t it considered “challenging” enough for me in high school? Maybe I was an arrogant youngster, but I took it to mean that it wasn’t a worthwhile application of my time. In other words, it wouldn’t get me anywhere, like for instance, into college.
I think the most ironic part of high school for me, was that I did attend a school of the arts. Everyday for four years, I took a school bus to another school in our district 30 minutes away to take two classes. But the school didn’t offer fine arts! Instead I faithfully stuck to literary arts (I hate being the center of attention, so theatre was out), where we studied creative writing, literature, and art history and were occasionally allowed to create our own works of art in the style of whatever artist we happened to be studying at the time. Still there was no formal art training involved so I never thought I was any good. How could I when I was comparing myself to the masters??
To bring this conversation back to the boat and the oh-so-important motor skills, it would have been extremely beneficial to have learned at least the basics of drawing at a young age, to have learned how to use a sewing machine, an electric saw, or how to construct useful objects, and to have realized how much I love working with my hands! Plus how much time have I wasted trying to pursue a career in a field that led me to a office job, where I sat in a cubicle staring out the window, wishing I were able create something tangible instead of staring at a computer screen for eight hours a day. I know many people who enjoy and thrive in the corporate environment, but I am NOT one of them.
Although this may sound like a rant, these are just several observations I have made in recent years, looking back on my high school years. I was in no way an underprivileged child. I had many opportunities that other kids didn’t have, made great friends, and learned a great deal at my public high school, which is saying a whole lot. When I came to South Carolina for college, I realized that most of the people with similar educational backgrounds had attended private schools to receive the same type of teaching. However working on the boat has taught me so many useful skills, that I am embarrassed by my former inabilities. Don’t even get me started on survival skills and sustainability!
Boat update:
We have declared Saturday as our tennative departure date from Rockville. Our to-do list has been whittled down to a handful of essential tasks and preparations. Unfortunately I am feeling under-the-weather today (and have been for several days), so I am hoping it will clear itself up and I will be able to enjoy this hard-earned first leg. Check out these beautiful people exercising their motor skills and helping us get ready for the departure.
When Brian and I drove through the boatyard gates on Friday morning, I had no expectations. We had plans of putting Illusion back in the water, but six weeks of labor on an old boat had taught me that nothing goes as planned; the hard projects took the allotted time, but projects that seemed easy stretched on for days (or weeks) and multiplied. Our pre-launching to-do list included seven projects, so I assumed that at least one of them would go awry. If that occurred, it was possible that we wouldn’t have enough time to get Illusion back in the water before the end of the day, and it was Friday, meaning it would have to wait until Monday.
We put on the last two sea cocks – ones that had frozen on us earlier in the week and prevented an earlier launching, made sure the others were closed, hooked up the second bilge pump, vacuumed out the bilge, checked all the hose clamps, organized the mess, and painted the last few areas on the bottom that needed a second coat without so much as a hitch. The traveling lift scooped Illusion off her stilts, carried her to the ramp, and lowered her back into a cradle of saltwater at 2:30 pm.
Brian jumped aboard to check for leaks, then the Rockville crew grabbed the lines, and pulled Illusion towards a nearby slip (we still haven’t hooked up the engine). As she pivoted around the boat at the end of the dock, one of the men lost his hold on a line. I looked over my shoulder to see her stern swinging wide and the entire vessel moving towards shore. The narrow waterway didn’t leave much leeway, but they managed to tow her back into position and safely into the slip. When things finally settled down, Illusion took her place amongst the other boats, and we cheered. Cold beers were cracked; high fives were exchanged, and we sat for a while and admired the view – from the water.
I am exhausted, relieved, and filled with an expanding sense of gratitude and excitement. I can’t wait to be on our way!
It’s strange to live in a place you plan to leave, when you’ve got one foot in the door and one foot out. I am sitting in a friend’s apartment, in front of my travel easel and make-shift supply stand (several plastic bins stacked atop one another) wondering where I will be finishing up this new painting I’ve started? And what will I do with it when I am done? Every week for the past two months I’ve asked myself this same question. Where will I be this time next week?
The whole experience seems to be unfolding in the only way that it could: we will leave when the boat is ready. And when the boat is ready, we will be ready. We should be truly prepared to tackle most of the potential problems that we could face during the trip. Sometimes you don’t need to travel in order to find yourself in a different place.
It’s certainly made for an interesting year of transitions: from living in a house, to living on the boat, then living on a project boat that was more like a work shed, and finally staying in a friend’s apartment and making the 45 minute drive to work on it at the boatyard everyday. If you’ve let Brian or I relax on your couch, watch TV at your house, do laundry in your washer/dryer, cook dinner in your kitchen, craft in your living room, sleep in your guest room, sleep on your couch, store things in your garage, store things in your back yard, or listened while Brian and I poured out our woes and frustrations over the past year, then please accept this virtual thank-you for helping us retain our sanity throughout the process.
If there is one thing I have learned from this experience, past travels, and living abroad, it’s that happiness relies on sharing experiences with other people; it doesn’t matter where you are. I haven’t been able to participate in many of the movie-going, music concerts, and going-out activities over the past year because of my tight budget, but our living situation has given me the opportunity to spend some quality time with friends while doing the most mundane of tasks. Believe me, no matter the location, there is nothing like sharing a good meal and conversation with others (and it fits into my budget nicely).
The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.
~Elizabeth Bishop
Achieving a dream isn’t always easy. Just because you are doing something you love doesn’t mean that everything will fall into place. Sometimes it takes more than just hard work and elbow grease. In the past, whenever I have hit a bump in the road, I always try to find a positive outcome. If what I’m doing isn’t working, isn’t going to work, then it’s important to come up with a new solution that will.
Lately I’ve been using the saying, “Hindsight is 20/20.” It seems to sum up my feelings on the past few weeks pretty accurately. If we had only known this or spent more time on that, or worked a bit longer to save more, things might have been different, but it’s important to remember that, from the beginning, this sailing trip was a huge undertaking.
First of all, Brian bought an old boat, which needed more fixing up than anticipated. He’s poured so much money into fixing it up (albeit on a shoestring) that there is little left for the travel adventure we hoped for. Had we just waited a year, saved money first, and bought a slightly nicer boat for a little higher price, we might have been able to leave on time and with way less work. Of course might is the keyword in that sentence. Or we could have just bought a plane ticket and gone backpacking.
But the important thing to remember at this point is that the original goal was not just to go cruising or even just to travel to Central America, but it started with fixing up an old boat. Brian’s dream has been to own his own cruising-capable sailboat and travel with it to places off the beaten track. In addition, he has also contemplated attending boat building school in the past, learning how to build and design them. In this sense, our experience over the past few years has been a crash course for him in boat maintenance. He has been forced to review each system and learn all of the ins and outs of his boat. This is a good thing. He’s learned and is learning so much.
This past week has been difficult and tiring for both of us. I feel that the boat is so close to being in great shape and ready to take off, but there are still projects to be done. We’ve poured about 250 hours of labor into the boat over the past three weeks at the boat yard and countless hours over the past two years. I’ve put up with living on a project boat for almost a year now and recently put my art practice on hold to put in my share of the labor.
Boats are expensive to maintain and upkeep, but we planned for that. Still we’ve underestimated a few things, which has left us in a predicament. Our epic adventure seems to be shrinking into a smaller endeavor. At this point, I think we will both be happy if we can just make it down to the Bahamas, but we are researching more creative solutions to make this trip happen with all its intended glory. We’re both stubborn and determined to make it work, so it’s time to get creative. Any interesting work/travel opportunity suggestions are welcome at this point!
Still at it, but Illusion is just about ready to go back into the water, which means my work “duties” are almost done. Woo hoo! Well sort of. I can’t say I’ll miss the projects, but it’s been a mostly enjoyable experience. I’ve met some really nice people, learned about all sorts of tools and methods of boat repair, and enjoyed the beautiful surroundings and daily exercise (and all of the cute doggies). The final project (the rebuilding of the engine) will be up to Brian, and I have to say I am kind of eager to get back to some art-making! I pulled out my sketchbook last week to sketch the boatyard, and it only managed to increase my art cravings.
Here are some pictures of the projects from last week and today. We finished painting the bilge white, installed the new mast step, put in the rest of the sea cocks, sanded the bottom of the boat, popped and filled the blisters on the bottom, and primed all of the hatches.
What’s left, you say?
We’ve still got to paint the bottom of the boat and all of the hatches, put the mast back in, and clean – we’ve got lots of cleaning to do. That’s all for now. It’s 1 am and we’ve got more work to do tomorrow.
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Welcome Welcome to Forest and Fin, the documentation of an artist's adventures living and traveling on a '37 sailboat. Beginning in early 2009, when I moved onto an old Chris Craft sailboat with my boyfriend and I decided to become an artist, this blog chronicles the pursuit of my dreams, exploration, travel, and art.
Thanks for stopping by!
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