SV Gallant Fox

January 25, 1921 - April 8, 2009

'Bye Mom. The flowers blooming all around your garden look beautiful. Say hi to Dad when you see him.

m

Nostalgia

There I was, sifting through some old photos from our times cruising around the PacNW & BC from 1998 to 2007.  Those pics sure took me back to some good times.

Here I am, underway, during a typical February:

And, here I am in April.  That's Point Hudson in the background, and The Fox is approaching the top of Marrowstone Island on its way back to Seattle.  It's obviously April in this photo, because I've traded the heavier winter foulies and Polarfleece balaclava for a Springtime-y ensemble of baseball cap and microfiber Buff : 

It's been a while since I've worn 3 layers of sailing togs.

m

Majestic Interlude™ - The Cruiser's Party Game

Naming a boat is more difficult than you'd think.  You want it to be a special name...a name unique to you...something that reflects your personality and background, but also suggests the romance, adventure and exotic locales that travel on the high seas offers. Additionally, it's better if the name you choose for your boat is easily spelled, easily pronounced, easily understood over the VHF, and (assuming you travel outside your home country) recognizable by any foreign port official, containing nothing offensive in any language.

Hoo-wee, that's a tall order.

It is a very interesting pastime to ask people how they arrived at their boat's name. Everybody has a story, and it's always a good one.  If you ever see "Two Pieces of Eight," "Curare" or "Integrity" anywhere, ask them how they got the name - you'll see what I mean.

However, the path to naming a boat is fraught with pitfalls because every human brain is wired like every other human brain. It is therefore almost impossible for any of us to come up with an original thought.  Consequently, in terms of boat names we find hundreds of "Chardonnays," "Second Winds," "Wet Dreams," "Moondances," and "Nereids."  How difficult does it get, to overcome the hive mind? What would you say are the chances that at least two different boats from two different countries are each named "Warren Peace"? (Answer: pretty good. They met each other in the Sea of Cortez this past year.)  Do a search on the US Coast Guard registration site for "Gallant Fox" and you'll find at least two commercial vessels out of Louisiana with that name.  A grimy industrial barge bearing OUR pristine name??  Quelle horreur.

Some folks resist the hive mind by naming their boats more complex things like, "Secret Might Be Blue,"  "Sailing Since Tuesday," or "Just a Minute." Nice names with amusing stories behind them, I'm sure -- but, potentially baffling to the average port captain in Panama.

In our experience, the boat names that overall seem to be the best combination of hip and universally practical, comprise single words, like: "Lucie," "Integrity," and "Sarana."  Multiple-word names can be very cool, too, but can go cattawumpus when you least expect it.  Example:  If you're sailing along on night watch, and hear over the VHF "Mango Mambo" hailing "Coconut Surprise"? You may find yourself getting hungry for no apparent reason.  Or you'll hear the names "Decade Dance," "Last Tango," "Piano Man" and "Banjo Jane," and imagine that someday they'll all get together for a really great jam session.  But for someone who wants something a bit different, what's to do, if they just can't come up with a name that embraces all the functionality, coolness and adventurousness they desire?

Have I got the solution for you.  It's a game.  Majestic Interlude™. Here's how it's played:

Get a group of your friends.  Give them copious beverages. When everyone is blotto relaxed and open-minded, give each of them a piece of paper and a pencil.

For Round 1, each person writes on their paper an adjective. Any adjective. Could be "yellow," "running," "majestic,"...you get the idea. After each player has written something, they fold the paper so that their word is concealed, and pass it to the person to their left to write down the next word, which is a noun - any noun, such as "magic," "potholder," or "interlude." After each of these players has written something, they pass the paper to the next person on their left, who then unfolds the paper and reads the two words aloud to the group as a proposed boat name: "Yellow Magic," "Running Potholder," "Majestic Interlude." Hmmm.

Now for Round 2.  First person writes down a noun.  A proper noun - place name or person's name is OK. (Exhamples:  "freak," "Mandalay," "van Gogh.") Folds the paper, passes to person on left. Second person writes a noun. Proper noun and place names acceptable. (Examples:  "magnet," "sombrero," "Bedford-Stuyvesant.") When done second person passes paper to next person on left who reads the results.

You can go for as many rounds as the beverages last or the group can tolerate. Adverbs and verbs! Place names only! Freestyle!

Whatever names come up can be fodder for general hilarity, or may actully be worthy of serious consideration. Think of the story YOU'D be telling, if after a Majestic Interlude™ party, you named your boat "Mandalay Sombrero."

P.S. I have dibs on "Freak Magnet."
 

m

Boats and Dreams

La Paz’s malecon stretches for a couple of miles and is interspersed with many examples of fine bronze sculpture. A visitor may admire life-size renditions of manta rays, fishermen and the vaquita porpoise (the world’s smallest, native to the Sea of Cortez - and sadly, a species which may now be extinct). There are mermaid sculptures and more. Many people say their favorite malecon bronze is the smiling old man wearing his makeshift paper boat, gazing out across the city anchorage to the Sea of Cortez:

I like this guy.

I like him even more, now that I’ve read the poem that accompanies the statue. Please tolerate this author's poor translation from the Spanish:

El Viejo…y el Mar?                                              (The Old Man...and the Sea?)

Tengo un barco de papel…                                  (I have a boat of paper…)

Esta hecho de una pagina                                   (It’s made of one page)

En la que escribi mis ilusiones.                           (On which I wrote my hopes.)

No tiene anclas ni tiene amarras.                       (It has neither anchors nor mooring lines.)

Quiero navegar en el,                                        (I want to sail the seven seas in it;)

De los siete mares; en el octavo,                        (In the eighth,)

Donde se, encallare en el puerto anhelado.          (I know I will eagerly run aground in the port.)

…ha visto alguien brillar la luz de su faro?            (Have you seen someone shine the light of your own

                                                                             beacon?)

- Guillermo Gomez Mac. 2004

Boats and dreams, in their purest form.

m

Managing Mail While Cruising

By popular demand* and because I happened to have been studying the issue right before we headed out of the marina, here's a discussion about a couple of different ways to handle mail while cruising long term.

* Yo! Patrick!

First, an explanation of mail forwarding and a description of our particular mail-forwarding strategy as it has been up to now.

When we first moved aboard The Fox at Shilshole Marina waaay back in March 2003, like everybody else in the marina we moved our mail to Ballard Mailbox on Market Street. These nice folks act as your agent for receiving your mail and packages, and signing for certified mail and such on your behalf.  At your telephone or email request they will forward your mail to any destination - within the US or internationally. They have done an excellent job sending our mail to us during the past 6 years. The basic service we signed up for costs about $145 per year. Like other mail forwarders, Ballard Mailbox asks for an extra deposit (about $50) to cover the shipping expenses for the mail they forward to you. When your deposit is depleted, you replenish it. It is all quite rational and the Ballard Mailbox gang is professional and efficient.  For folks who live aboard a boat but don't intend to travel far and/or are still closely connected to a job onshore, this is all they need.

When forwarding mail to a location outside the US, Ballard Mailbox and places like them generally ship your flat mail via a DHL envelope. DHL is desirable because you pay for a tracking number that comes in handy if your precious mail goes walkabout.  When cruising, you periodically plan a stop at a marina ($$$) so that you can use their address to get your mail forwarded there as soon as possible.  It's been our experience that a typical DHL envelope gets from Ballard Mailbox to almost any reasonable cruising destination on Vancouver Island, BC, or Baja or mainland Mexico, within about 4 or 5 days.  (Packages are another kettle of fish - much more complicated. We'll just continue discussing flat mail shipped by good ol' reliable DHL in this here post.)

Difficulty: in 2008 DHL doubled their shipping fees because, they said, that big run-up in gasoline prices significantly increased their overhead. Of course, when the fuel prices dropped back down, DHL kept those higher fees in place.  Bastards. The bottom line to you, though, for getting your mail shipped to you outside the US? Is that if your experience is like ours has been, you'll be paying about $110 per flat DHL envelope. Yes, you read that right.  One hundred-ten US dollars.  Now, the folks at Ballard Mailbox will help you keep your DHL costs as low as possible by reviewing and sorting your mail with you over the telephone, getting rid of the junk mail and nonessential bulky items
that have accumulated in your mailbox.  But even with that help, assuming you can afford to get your mail shipped to you only once every four months, and further assuming that your average DHL envelope is like ours and contains less than 2 dozen separate pieces of mail -- you're looking at an extra $300 or more for shipping your mail to you, on top of your $145 annual base fee.

$445 per year for mail.  Zowie.

Some people who cruise only part-time, or who often return to the US, can avoid costs like these by picking up their accumulated mail themselves directly from their mailbox; or by getting it forwarded to some cheaper destination within the US (like, a friend's or relative's house they plan to visit), where they pick up the mail and personally carry it back to their boat. But for full-time cruisers like us who are spending most of our time away from the US, mail forwarding is unavoidable - and at certain times, essential.  Some documents come to us via email (for example, our insurance carriers email their policies and other documents to us, so that we can print them out wherever we happen to be).  Unfortunately, other important papers come only via hard-copy snail mail.  Like, the annual US Coast Guard registration; all our health insurance info; GB's pension documents; and checks.  So we need to pay for a mail forwarder.

Needless to say, one of my tasks while having enjoyed Marina Costa Baja during December-January was to investigate more economical mail-forwarding alternatives. Luckily for cruisers, technology has developed over the past few years that enables mail forwarders to receive and forward your mail the old-fashioned way; but also to electronically scan it as it comes in. You get to view your scanned mail online, and direct your mail forwarder to hold it, throw it away as junk mail, shred it, or forward it to you - whatever you desire. I've looked at two such mail forwarders on opposite sides of the US (Earth Class Mail and St. Brendan's Isle), and they seem to charge a similar amount of annual fees ($240-$270 or so) for roughly the same kinds of services.  I'm sure there are more places like these two out there; and I'll wager they charge roughly the same. But they're interesting in that the goal with each of them is to give you the long-distance control over your mail to reduce its volume (and presumably, its cost for shipping to you) by about 70%.  Sweet.

I've liked the work Ballard Mailbox has done for us during the past 6 years, and I'm not sure the online scannig services xan do much better than they do -but the idea of an electronic scanning mail service still intrigues me.   There's just one problem setting up any mail forwarding service like these when you're outside the US like we are: The US Postal Service requires you to sign a federal form authorizing the mail forwarder of your choice to act as your agent before they can receive and act upon your mail as you instruct. And, your signature on this US federal form needs to be notarized. Which outside the US can only be done at a US Consulate. And, for the next several months we will be very far away from the nearest US Consulate. Ergo our clever plan to switch mail services is on hold until I find a notary in the same town as myself, either in the US next time I visit; or at a US Consulate in Mexico.

In conclusion: whichever type of mail service you choose - electronic or otherwise - there are some pretty spiffy options for you.  It's best to study those options well, and when you make a choice get it in place when you're still in the States.

m

Second Anniversary

So, rumor has it, if we can cruise 24/7 for more than one full year, we'll be among those people who end up cruising for a really long time.

I don't know about that...there's a lot to be said for a land-based existence...but we started short-time cruising in the PacNW and BC in 1998; then sold everything, quit the jobs and left Seattle on this here  date in 2007.

So it's been 24/7 cruising for a full two years now. Well past the bail-out date.  Three countries, slowly. If your personality is suited to it, the living out here is FINE.

m

Happy 2009, Y'All!

In these difficult economic times, we wish all of you prosperity and hope to see you soon down here.

Live beneath your means.  Don't feel you must own real estate to have a decent nest egg.  Pay off your boat.  Move aboard.  Let go of your possessions - or at least as many of them as you can.  Keep working and save everything you earn: one day of salary from your job equals three more days of cruising on your boat.  Leave the dock behind when you can - not when you feel it's comfortable.  Be Ulysses Grant, not George McClellan.  Learn weather, navigation, and engine repair - the rest will follow.  Expect to have some tough days:  cruising is a lifestyle, not a vacation where everything is always white sand beaches and margaritas - you'll have to clean the bilge and track down that leak sooner rather than later.  It's a very good life aboard, if you're so inclined.

And for those not so inclined, the same rules apply. Sort of.

m

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

Our family.  All the good friends we left behind in the Seattle area.  Our good friends in other states, whom we've known for so long.  Colleagues from work.  Some very cool cyber-friends we have yet to meet in the flesh.  Great people we've lost touch with, all too soon.  Fellow cruisers we've met in three countries and along a meandering, many-thousand-mile path.  They, too, have meandering, many-thousand-mile paths that too seldom cross our own and are scattering outward as I type these words.

To each and every one of you, please know that in my heart, I feel it would be so cool to have all of you here with us, all together, all having fun -- but in reality it wouldn't be so much fun for any of us because some of you probably wouldn't be too enchanted with some of the others.  My family would be thoroughly horrified at what's become of me.  Maybe none of you would care to speak with any of the others.  On the other hand, some of you would impress my mom more than I ever have.  And others of you would impress some of my friends better, too.  That certainly won't do. Plus we'd have to clean the boat and buy more gin and the boat's not big enough for all of you anyway, and the ensuing dock party would grow so loud even the Mexicans would complain.

So, I'll just keep each and every one of you who are so dear to GB and me, in my head and my heart, where there's room enough for all and there's no conflict whatsoever.  Merry Christmas, and be happy, healthy, safe and sound.  We love every single one of you.

m

Beware of Hitchhikers

We had some hitchhikers with us on November's crossing of the southern Sea of Cortez. About 25 miles offshore from Mazatlan, two hummingbird-size moths landed in our cockpit. They found spots with good grips for insects (like the binoculars we have hanging from the helm in that pic over there); used their forelegs to shield their eyes from the bright sun; and they kept to themselves. After sunset they quietly disappeared under a crescent moon to pursue their mothly business.

A yellow warbler briefly sought refuge on our stern pulpit until a sudden jump of GB’s fishing rod (accompanied by a sudden jump of GB) scared her off.

Later, at sunset, a brown booby stopped by for a rest. I liked the little guy - especially when he gave up trying to perch on our fragile, expensive masthead instruments and chose our more commodious lower starboard spreader. Boobies have a hard life, always having to dive from heights for fish, only to be harassed into giving them up to a frigate bird. Boobies are generally docile and quiet, so when this fella wanted to rest on our spreader I was happy to oblige. Since we had the dodger off for ventilation, I could watch him from my perch in the cockpit near the radar display. He was adorable. Our steaming light made his big webbed feet glow orange as he preened himself and investigated our Mexican courtesy flag, and gently played with a nearby halyard. I love birdwatching.

Until about 9:00 p.m. when he let go.

Suddenly, in the darkness, I was bathed in the warm afterglow of fresh booby poo. Stripping down to nothing but a PFD and a grimace, I thought how lucky I was -- that GB was off watch and unavailable to point and laugh.

That little farker unloaded every 20 minutes. Between the projectile poo and the blowback, no place in the cockpit was safe except for as far aft as one can hide without swimming. As the night wore on GB and I shone lights at him and cursed loudly, but the bastard stood pat. We spent the night debating the relative merits of a BB gun (likely illegal for a gringo to possess in Mexico) and a Wrist Rocket ™ slingshot using uncooked garbanzo beans as ammo (looks like a go, but we’ll have to practice our aim to avoid hitting something more vital and expensive on the boat - or killing the booby which would make one of us almost sad (it only takes one big fat shot of booby poo to start disrespecting the value of animal life)).

[Note: the brown booby in that photo up there is not the perp.  I use his photo here for illustrative purposes - and because he's probably guilty of having done something similar to someone else.]

On the upside, bird poo is generally water-soluble and the constant letting-go countered with our constant cleanup gave us all something to do during the night watches. About 0500 the next morning, after 11 hours of a marathon projectile crap-o-rama,the booby lost his balance while asleep and crashed from the spreader to the deck below. Stunned and embarrassed, he glared at me as if it were all my fault, then flew off in a huff.

When we got to our anchorages at Bahia Los Frailes, it took more hours of scrubbing everything from the mast, aft, to get the poor Fox in decent shape once again. Feh.  Folks on other boats must have wondered what was up with all the boat brushes and buckets o' salt water.  When we see them again at other anchorages - as we undoubtedly will - we'll have to explain ourselves.

We used to sail by tall, guano-covered islets and cliffs and I’d wonder how many generations of how many seabirds it took to paint those rocks solid white. Now I know: it takes one booby just a couple of days.

m

Permits and Insurance in Mexico

A few days ago I raised the issue of Mexican fishing licenses, National Park permits, and liability insurance issued by a Mexican insurance carrier.  Herewith, the discussion.

Sportfishing licenses.  If the Mexican authorities board and inspect your boat (it seems that’s a rare occurrence, but I’ve still heard of instances especially on the Pacific side of Baja), and you do not have a fishing license, you risk having your boat confiscated. Enforcement might be rare - we've never been approached by any official - but during our 7 weeks in Oxnard, California and Ensenada, Mexico, we heard a few stories of sportfishers' bad experiences.  Worst case scenario: boat confiscation plus jail time.  Mexico's most expensive recreational fishing license is good for a whole year, and costs US $48.20.  If you plan to be in Mexico for a shorter period of time there are cheaper daily, weekly and monthly rates.  In other words, chump change.  So why take the risk?  You can get a Mexican sportfishing license online, and/or via places in San Diego, California, as one of but many options.  Just Google "Mexico fishing licenses," or "ConaPesca" (the Mexican government agency that regulates fisheries and wildlife).  So stop complaining about the bureaucracy of it all, and just get a license.  Criminy, it's less than 50 bucks per fishing person for a year.  Catch one mahi-mahi like the Propane Chef up over there and you've paid for the license.

Mexican vessel-liability insurance is required by Mexican law. I’m surprised so many boats have spent so much time in Mexico without it. No; your US or other policy is not accepted in Mexico even if it says it covers you in Mexico. You need to spring for liability-only insurance issued by a Mexican carrier, like ACE Seguros. Haulout facilities, port captains, harbor police, naval officials and marinas may all ask for proof of insurance, and some do not accept a proffer of non-Mexican insurance.  We have been asked specifically for proof of Mexican insurance by both marina harbormasters and port captains, but other cruisers we know tell us they've never been asked for proof of Mexican insurance, even when hauling-out, and they've gone to the same places and have been here longer than we have.  I guess, then, that enforcement of Mexican insurance coverage is as relaxed as it is in, say, Washington State with their enforcement of proof of state registration of your boat:  you can get away for years without paying for it, but if you're involved in some kind of accident or dispute over money (like over a bill for marina fees or boat repairs), you may wish you had it.  So I suppose people justify the risk of having no Mexican insurance, by assuming they won't ever have any boat-related problems while they're cruising in Mexico.  Certainly, other cruisers have taken that risk and have not gotten into trouble.  Alternatively, we've heard of folks who have older boats, and drop their US or Canadian insurance and just pay for the way-cheaper Mexican insurance. For us, our boat is newer and pretty expensive if I do say so myself; we live aboard, and we plan to be here longer and travel more places than the average single-season cruiser.  Plus, we're a freak magnet and things happen to us that don't happen to other people.  (Almost get rear-ended by panga in dense fog?  Check.  Almost get run down by sailboat under power and on autopilot with no one on watch?  Check.)  So for all of the above reasons the cost of Mexican liability insurance makes sense for us.   Mexican liability-only insurance is easy to get online in the US and Canada; and it’s cheaper than US or Canadian insurance - for our 6 year old, 40-foot boat, limits of US $100,000 will cost us US $350 for a year’s coverage in late 2008.  (OK; it's way up from last year's $195 premium, but still.  We'll also be paying $3000 for our $300,000 comprehensive US coverage.  Maybe now would be a good time to add PayPal to this blog....)

Now let's address the purchase of Mexican National Park permits. Cabo Pulmo and many of the islands you will visit in the Sea of Cortez are included in Mexico’s National Park lands. There is not much maritime enforcement of these permits but there is some; and if they happen across you the nice rangers in the orange boat will ask you to leave an area if you cannot produce a permit when they ask for one. These park permits are available for purchase from government agencies in Mazatlan, La Paz and Loreto - and you will no doubt find yourself in at least one of these locales. For whatever reason, many cruisers refuse to pay for these permits. But a permit for a whole calendar year that is good in every Mexican National Park - the whole country, land or sea, January through December - costs US $24 per person. If you can’t justify paying 24 bucks to comply with environmental law, you shouldn’t travel to foreign countries. So my advice? Do The Right Thing. Stick a crowbar in your wallet, pay the fee, get a way-cool park pass, and help Mexico’s conservation efforts.  Do it for the critters you'll meet.

m