5/3/99 | Baby steps

life on the water

We finally launched Windom on 4/22, but it wasn't until 4/26 that we managed to go out for a spin. Rainy days and too many things to do conspired to keep us firmly tied to the dock. But on a pleasant Monday morning we started the engine and made a maiden voyage. Truth to tell, it wasn't much of a voyage; without charts, we only dared venture out of Swan Creek into the main channel leading toward Rock Hall, and back again, and we didn't put up our sails at all. But it gave us good boat-handling practice, and when on Wednesday 4/28, armed with charts, we sailed in a bare puff of a breeze to make a loop around a buoy about two miles down the bay, we were much more confident. Our next excursion was a ten-mile romp in a good 15-20 knots of wind. Little by little, we're figuring it out.

The usual pattern among most cruising couples we've observed or talked with is that the woman drives the boat in and out of the berth, while the man handles the lines. This division of labor is driven by the line-handler's possible need to fend the boat off the pier, which can require a lot of strength depending on the conditions. Although we both want to be competent in both roles, we are starting out in these "sexist" positions (which is good for me because, frankly, I throw like a girl, and tossing the starboard stern dockline onto the piling as we leave the dock is a job I'd rather not have).

I'm sure learning a lot about driving the boat under power. A 40' sailboat does not handle like a sports car. Boats pivot, so steering the bow one way swings the stern the other way. They don't have brakes; stopping (under power) is accomplished by throwing it into reverse. And just when you think you know what you're doing, the wind comes up and blows the bow around exactly where you don't want it. But so far I haven't smashed into the dock. Um, not too hard, anyway.

this old boat

You'd think that as new as this boat is, it would be in perfect shape. But Britt's been finding boat improvement projects left and right. The stock bilge pump is too small, so we got a more powerful model. The hose and through-hull were sized for the old pump, so Britt installed a new through-hull (that sounds rather innocent, doesn't it?  It means that he drilled another hole in the boat, a project not to be undertaken lightly!) and we pulled a new bilge hose through the narrow space between the hull and the storage areas under the main cabin seating (which was a difficult and time-consuming proposition, requiring us both to cram ourselves into odd positions in small spaces), pulled wire (ditto ditto) and wired the new pump to the boat's batteries. The solar-powered ventilation fan in the forward head was noisy, so he dismantled and lubricated it. The sliding doors which close one of the cabin shelves needed to be ground down to slide smoothly. The battery charger was completely dead due to a mysterious fuse which upon replacement blew again immediately. All the sailing hardware was creaky and cranky, requiring treatment with a very specific and not inexpensive spray Teflon lubricant. We've been making lots of trips to every marine store between here and Annapolis, and spending money, well, like sailors.

And that's just the little stuff. We finally ordered our first really expensive piece of equipment: an inverter/charger. This gizmo converts 12 volt battery DC power to normal AC power, so that for example we could plug in a hair drier or blender and run that from the boat's batteries. It also will go the other way around, using our shore AC power to charge the battery bank in lieu of our AWOL battery charger. Clearly, this is a major undertaking, because this bit of equipment (admittedly, it's the top of the line and nearly highest capacity) costs around $2000. Yikes.

We've also been spending time and money in Annapolis at Bed Bath and Beyond, which is a wonderful household-goods store. Living on a sailboat is just like living in an extremely tiny apartment, except that the cabinets are all weird shapes that things don't pack efficiently into, and getting things out of them generally requires moving seat cushions. So we've been buying storage containers and nesting plastic baskets and shelves, and trying to figure out the optimal way to set things up so that we don't need to completely disassemble our living room just to cook dinner.

to the big city

Annapolis is clearly the place to go shopping, but at an hour and a half away, it's really a hassle to get what we need. Rock Hall and Swan Creek are great, laid-back places, but we just can't do the outfitting we need here. So on our last trip to Annapolis, we shopped for a new place to stay.

We ended up phoning every marina listed in the Yellow Pages. Most places either rent their slips strictly on annual contracts or were full up. One receptionist assured me they had room for us, but at $775 a month it was more than twice what we're paying out here, and a bigger chunk of our budget than we can comfortably afford. (On the other hand, it included unlimited use of their weight room and swimming pool!) Another marina had a few open spots, but when we drove out to see it, it was clear why: the available slips were right out at the exposed end of the marina, near the entrance to Back Creek. The nearby boats were rocking with the wind, straining their lines; it would be an unpleasant place to live. We were nearly ready to give up when we called Petrini's. "Yeah, I think we can stick you somewhere."

We drove out to take a look. Petrini's was everything you'd expect from a place whose Yellow Pages entry says, "See our ad under Boat Repair". No clubhouse, no laundromat, no picnic tables, no grassy yard. The dockside atmosphere is decidedly industrial. And it's on the wrong side of the Spa Creek Drawbridge. On the other hand, it's practically smack downtown, walking distance from the center of town -- not to mention walking distance from at least two marine supply stores. Most important of all, they've got room for us.

Dad came out to help us move our van to Petrini's on Saturday, and if all goes well we'll sail there on Tuesday. It will be our first "big" voyage, across the big bad Bay!

five o'clock world

Swan Creek is a commuter's marina. We're the only people who live aboard; nearly every other boat here is homeported in New Jersey or Pennsylvania. Their owners drive down every weekend -- it's a straight shot down 301 from the Philadelphia area -- to varnish teak, and scrub fiberglass, and polish stainless, and drink beer, and sometimes even go sailing. The parking lot starts filling up on Thursday night, and cars arrive steadily through the day on Friday. But by Sunday night, everyone's gone, and we share the dock only with swans, ducks, and the pretty little barn swallows that like to perch on our lines (and make messes on our deck!)

So far we've deliberately timed things in reverse of the pattern dictated by the working world. We've gone sailing only on weekdays to avoid the weekend crowds. Hopefully, by the time full summer hits and the Bay is teeming with boats every day of the week, our skills will be honed enough that crowds won't faze us.

We eat breakfast while listening to NPR on WJHU out of Baltimore, and I admit to taking a perverse pleasure in the traffic report. Today's commute is slow due to a stalled vehicle in the outer loop...wherever that is. It's sure not here.