SV Gallant Fox

Attrition

Tell someone you’re going sailing, and invariably the reaction is an audible sigh and a faraway look.  Sailing is like that – everyone imagines a clean white boat ghosting into a quiet bay in warm, turquoise-colored water, off a white sand beach on an uninhabited, palm tree-lined island.  I’ve seen photographs of places like this, so I am sure they exist – even in an un-PhotoShopped world.  Certainly, the image of a liveaboard sailor carries with it a kind of  romance, freedom and independence that many people believe are unattainable in their onshore world of jobs, mortgages, children and grandparents.  Faced with those more common kinds of responsibilities, many people – especially men – dream of stepping on board a boat and leaving it all behind.  The reality of living aboard, however, is something more – and less.

Of all the people who dream of sailing away, I’ll estimate that about five percent actually go sailing.  Of those who have actually gone sailing at one time or another, about five percent are ever on the water for more than seven days at a time.  Of those who have spent at least one continuous week on the water, about five percent actually buy a boat.  Of those people who have bought a boat, about five percent move aboard to live.  Of all liveaboards, about five percent sell all of their onshore possessions.  Of those who have sold everything, about five percent quit their jobs.  Of those liveaboards who are no longer encumbered by onshore employment, about five percent leave the dock to cruise coastal waters.  And of those costal cruisers, about five percent ever make an ocean crossing.  Such is attrition in the world of sailing.

Attrition happens for all kinds of reasons.  It has been my experience that some plans fall apart and couples stop cruising after one or two years (assuming they leave the dock at all), even when they have new, well-found boats and unlimited time and resources.  Somehow things turn upside down for these couples, but not for lack of money or opportunity.  I have known other couples who for years have worked hard and enthusiastically on outfitting their boats, only to abandon their cruising plans when the outfitting nears completion.  Over time, one or the other partner’s priorities quietly shifted, so the original goal is no longer desirable for one or attainable for the other.  Some plans are changed by external circumstances:  health issues, relatives in need, a resolutely unwilling spouse who can no longer be denied.  Sometimes, plans are changed when the sailor realizes the dream, but encounters a reality he or she had not expected:  the fundamentally different challenges between coastal/inland sailing and ocean sailing (even in calm seas and fair weather); the fear that goes on for hours when getting the boat through heavy weather and high seas; the sleep deprivation; the sudden and persistent seasickness; or the continuous attempts to make broken or malfunctioning equipment work.

The most common form of attrition, however, may be when reality confronts those people who have pursued dreams instead of goals, and perceive themselves as a kind of person they are not.  Some people enjoy characterizing themselves as free spirits, unencumbered by society’s rules and conventions; in the boating world, they perceive themselves as ocean cruisers, world sailors.  In reality, they spend years dreaming, reading, planning and preparing – but never actually take any significant steps toward attaining their dream, because in truth they are not prepared to embrace all of the actual challenges the liveaboard cruising lifestyle demands.

This is not to imply that living aboard a boat, crossing oceans or circumnavigating the globe are the only worthwhile goals in a cruising lifestyle.  Quite the opposite – it is perfectly acceptable (even commendable) if all you ever do is charter a small boat and go sailing one or two weekends a year, if that is your goal, it is a realistic fit with your life, and it fulfills you.

Bottom line:  if you dream of sailing away forever, but for whatever reason can’t make it happen, that’s OK.  Acknowledge that it is just a dream.  In contrast, this liveaboard life is indeed a lifestyle - a huge set of commitments and value changes - that is hard to make work, and to maintain, over time.  Along the way, so many people drop their plans at various stages for so many different reasons.  And that is all just fine - as long as you remain honest with yourself and your partner about what it really is that you want out of the rest of your life and your relationship.  If you succeed in that, your goals will fall into place.  And I'm not just talking about sailing, here.

What does all this mean for GB and me, and our own plans to quit the jobs and slip the mooring lines in another 13 months?

We don’t know.  Anything can happen.  And something certainly will.

Going Cruising - How we became the people we use to hate

Why is it so difficult to go cruising?  Now - we are not talking about the "foot on the water - foot on the shore" type of cruising some folks do.  We are not talking about sailing away for a week, month, or semester, only to come back to your nice, big house and cherished possessions.  We are talking about the full blown commitment - the sell everything, get a boat and get the hell out of Dodge type of commitment - this is hard to do - lots of folks attempt it, but few seem to accomplish it.

I read an article last year where Jimmy Cornell estimated that there were only 5,000 boats actually cruising - in the entire world!  These are people on an open ended voyage, actually journeying across oceans and to distant lands.  Here in Puget Sound - there are more than 5,000 sailboats - most of them have not been further than 500 miles from home.

There are so many ways to crash and burn when attempting this.  You can run out of money, health, or energy.  Your spouse may quit on you, or your might quit on yourself.  When reading, studying, and following people's adventures who are cruising, it may seem like everybody is doing it.  For many of these pundit's - its their business.  Don't kid yourself.  There is an entire industry in America to sell you this dream, and you can spend a fortune following it.

Among our little Malo group - there are two sets of owner who have given up the chase and have their boats for sail.  One spent years preparing his boat, tens of thousand of dollars on equipment, and managed to cruise Alaska and sail to the Marquesas, then ship the boat home by container ship.  The boat is now for sale.  The other folks had their boat commissioned in Sweden, spent one summer cruising the most expensive spots possible in the Med, then sailed the boat to the Caribbean and put it up for sale.  These folks are quite well off - they maintained their land homes, and these are very expensive yachts.  You have to ask though - was this their cruising dream - and did it go wrong?

Our great sailing mentor - Brian - who actually saved my sailing career - (this is a long story, but on our first boat I was driving my poor suffering wife insane - Brain intervened to help us learn to sail - I owe him a lot) Brian bought the wrong boat, in the wrong place, and took on board the wrong crew.  We thought Brian knew everything.  The crew lasted six months, the cruise about the same, and Brian is now living aboard in a slip he bought in the inner harbor of Baltimore after motoring up the ICW.  Yes - this is a nice and cool place - but was this Brian's cruising dream?

Our friends M and B went cruising with Brian (they were the wrong crew) and found they had to jump ship or kill the skipper - they now live in a trailer on B's family's property - yes - they are still going to build a plywood junk rig to cruise around the world - the one they have been talking about to us for seven years - but they moved into a trailer on daddy's land to do this - is this their cruising dream?

And look at us - yes we have sold everything.  Getting rid of all of your material possession is a great relief - how did we collect all of that stuff?  We are living on the boat, which we own free and clear - and have a plan for sailing away in one year.  But - can we make that one year?  (When we had a Hunter 34 we were not vested in the cruising dream - now we pursue it every day.  We have a rich persons boat full of high end stuff - we really have become the snooty people on fancy boats we use to laugh at when sailing our cheap and wonderful Hunter - we are the people we use to hate.)

Work is endless - we ride the "loser cruiser" (bus) downtown every day to meaningless (but very high paying) jobs - is this the career I began 21 years ago?  We have health issues, and are getting old - time is short - there is not enough of it to keep screwing around in Seattle.  Will we make it to our cruise?

Ahh, but we are going cruising!  We have goals and plans, not like those other people who also thought they were going cruising - or will we find that the reality did not match the dream....

This is Squeak.  MS trained this seagull to take bread out of her hand.  Squeak greets MS when she comes home each day, and waits for her sitting on the radar tower of a derelict boat moored next to us.  Squeak especially likes soft bread.

The Propane Chef: Pork and Potlucks

My Galley on the Malo 39

What is it about potlucks in Seattle?  Before I came to this wet and sometimes dreary city in 1990, I think I had been to a couple of potlucks, usually put on as organizational events by members of clubs.  Here, in Seattle, I have often been invited to potlucks put on by people in their homes.  This always seemed odd to me.  Now - we must differentiate between the potluck, and just being asked to bring an appetizer or desert when somebody else is cooking dinner.  I have followed that policy quite a bit for my friends who I know are really good cooks, and asked them to bring a little something.  But...putting on a potluck - no way. Now - this is not to say that potluck are bad - it just seems like a Seattle tradition to substitute in a potluck for actually having to cook and entertain....

Cruisers love potlucks.  We have one or two of them each year on E Dock where I live, and they are grand events.  Some folks make really good food, and others go and buy something - and both of these are just fine by me.

I always try and do my best for a potluck.  Sometimes people notice and other times they don't, but I rarely bring anything home.

This post, in case you are wondering what I am rambling about - is about pork and potlucks - because I made pork souvalki, hummus, and fresh pita bread for the last potluck on E-dock.  I love pork (the other white meat) because it is easy to work with, absorbs flavors from simple marinades quite well - and just tastes so yummy.  It uses stuff I almost always have on the boat.

Pork souvlaki and risen bread dough

This is Greek food that you see everywhere.  Get yourself a nice piece of pork loin, trim and cut into 3/4" pieces - here is the marinade:

3tbl red wine vinegar, 3 tbl honey, bit of garlic, 1 tsp of oregano, 1tbl of olive oil, maybe some lemon juice - mush all of this stuff up with the pork and put in a gallon zip lock bag in the cooler for 3-5 hours, or overnight, and then thread on skewers.  You can get fancy and layer it with onion, or pepper, if you feel like.

Pork frying in the pan

This dish is best on the bar B Q - but if you don't feel like that, and don't mind some fumes in the boat, by all means fry it up.  The honey caramelizes nicely on the pan to give it a nice browned texture.

Hummus is one of the more simpler cruiser dishes to make.  Take one can of chickpeas - add in 6 tbl of tahina (that's roasted sesame seeds, much like peanut butter) the juice of two small lemons, a small bit of garlic, 1 tbl of olive oil, and whip it up in the blender to the right consistency.  You may have to add some water - season to taste.

Pita waiting for the oven

The pita is a simple bread dough, divided into balls.  I have one of these silicon rolling mats from France - these are great on the boat, though a bit pricey.  They go into the oven at the highest setting on the round stone I have in there.

The finished dish - I like to keep a 14' stainless steel serving platter on board for potlucks - the hummus is finished with a bit of olive oil and paprika.  People can pick up the skewers to eat, and just dip into the hummus with the pita.  Unfortunately, I had no retsina or ouzo to bring to the party. 

I did not like the way the pita turned out.  The oven does not get hot enough to give them a nice browned look, even on a breadstone.  So I am not sure I would make them again.  They did taste great though - nothing like fresh bread on the boat.

The potluck turned out great - there was about 20 of us watching the sun go down at the end of the dock - and I enjoyed a lot of great cooking.

On Deck Sail Storage

One of the things we learned on the Alaska Eagle is that you want to have your sails where you can get to them.  The skipper kept some of their sails tied on deck, stored in long nylon bags.  We later found out these were called "sausages".  We went through quite a gale with these sails heavily tied down in place - breaking waves seems to have no effect on the stoutly lashed sails.

Our Malo 39 came with beautiful Syverson Sails.  They were large, heavy, and quite stiff, as befitting a new sail.  The geniker was a huge sail - about 1000 square feet - that took over any space it was in.  The cutter sail was quite heavy.  I knew if kept these two sails in the lazerrette, I would never use them on any regular basis.  I came up with the following solutions....

Geniker box for on deck geniker storage. It is about 5 feet long, 16 inches wide at the base, and 20 inches at the lid.  It is slightly tapered to allow for easy on deck passage.

The first task was to get the geniker under control.  I had previously used a "turtle" to hold and deploy a geniker on my prior boat.  But that sail was quite small in comparison.  The turtle is more of a bag, that has to be repacked each time the sail is used.  Also, the fine geniker Malo sent me had a large fiberglass collar on the snuffer.  This made controlling the snuffer quite easy, but the collar barely fit through the lazerrette hatch.  I came up with the idea of making a box for the sail.  This box is made out of "sunbrella" canvas, and straps to the lifeline - it also clips into the bases of the stanchions.  It holds the sail, snuffer, and sheets.  I deploy the sail directly out of the box, and then when retrieving it I flake the sail into the box.  The sides of the box are stiffened with plastic.  The box disassembles for flat storage for offshore adventures.  Although the box is well made - it is a little to large and an obvious target for breaking waves, which might tear it up.  For inshore sailing, however, it allows me to quickly deploy and retrieve the sail solo.

The box is completely filled up by the sail.  My friends thought I was nuts to put this on the boat.  But I fly my geniker much more than they do.  We can set the sail in less than 10 minutes - which seems quite fast considering I am deploying it solo, while MS is on the helm.

We also wanted some easy way to store our cutter sail.  We had the boat built with a removable inner forstay.  This is usually pulled aside, unless we forecast rough conditions.  It is a quick matter to reconnect the stay, but carrying that heavy cuter sail from the lazerrette forward on a heaving deck is a lot of work.  We did not want to have the sail always stored on the inner forstay, so we decided not to have a "ready bag" which is the most common method of storage.

"Sail Sausage" for on deck cutter sail storage.  It is quite long - about 10 feet, but is compressed into a bundle of about 12 inches diameter when lashed.

At dock - the bag rides up high tied to the lifelines to keep it out of the rain.  Offshore, we will move the bad down and tie it a bit lower. 

The sail flaked into the bag ready to deploy, with sheets attached.  You can see the stowed removable inner forstay with Harken tensioner on the right side of the picture.

Now that it is winter here we will be sailing a bit more with this sail, and will report back on how well this deployment system works.  You might be thinking by this time that I am crazy to go to this much effort - why not just bring the sails up through the forward hatch, like real sailors.  Well - we live down there - I don't want wet nasty sails, and salt water all over my nice egyptian cotton sheets!

I must report that my poor harried wife was forced (by me) to sew this thing up on her machine - she did a great job.