More on Garmin ...

the company I love to hate!

I'm racing in early May in the Women's Regatta, formerly known as the Bikini Cup, a race for women sailors. I'm the navigator for this trip.

At the helm is a woman who would like her navigator to have a chart plotter available, but we're not racing on my boat but on someone else's. Although his boat is very well equipped in many ways, his chart plotter is an old Garmin 76CX.

It's difficult to use as you might a modern chart plotter, tracking your course from waypoint to waypoint. I had one of these until it stopped working, so I was fairly familiar with it, but because of its tiny screen I never used it for anything except getting a precise latitude and longitude, which served me very well once.

I thought, "No problem. I'll just get a manual online." I found a Garmin website that had this old manual, but it wasn't a PDF, and when I downloaded it to my Macintosh, it was just unreadable gabble.

Garmin has done it again in not supporting Macintosh (in fairness, I can't expect them to support an old 76CX, but ...) They could have just put the manual into a PDF file and then anyone would be able to read it. The solution is so easy it's laughable, but clearly they just didn't bother.

We don't really need a chart plotter for this small race course, so I'm not worried about it. We can sight all the markers. But really, Garmin -- PDF? It's ... not hard.

Nobody Wants a Clogged Head!

But ... Why does it happen? I think I know.

Or, A Tale of Two Toilet (Hoses)

I'm no plumber, and at least partly because of that, for the 3 1/2 years I have lived on my boat, I have lived in terror of the thought of a clogged head. The male sailors in my club, who will say just about anything in front of a woman, get vague ... and disgusted ... when they describe what they've been through.

But here's the thing: no one who has told one of these smelly, dirty stories lived on his boat.

Except for one person: he lives on his boat and gets his boat pumped out regularly. Due to mechanical problems, he had not sailed his boat any distance in some time, but he finally had everything fixed up and ship-shape, and he went on a short cruise. Far enough from shore to be legal, he decided to pump overboard and discovered that his sanitary system was clogged. Oh no!

If it was clogged, though, how come he had been able to use the toilet and be pumped out until he went off shore?

The hose that was clogged was the one that went overboard. It hadn't been used in a very long time, and apparently something got left behind. He had to dig a hardened chunk of toilet paper and other things best left unmentioned.

Well, here's what I think, and as I prepare to move off the boat, I'm going to keep it in mind. As I lived on my boat, all the hoses except the overboard one got used regularly. Nothing ever had a chance to get stuck and dried, because something else was already coming up the "freeway." Sometimes it was a little harder than others to pump, but everything always went through.

I think when I move off the boat I will be very careful about flushing completely. I think hoses get clogged because the hoses aren't flushed completely, and then the bot sits in the slip for a month while things get dry and hard.

So that's what I'm suggesting you do. If you take your boat out, say, once a month, if the head has been used, flush it thoroughly. Then use a hose, fill the tank completely and pump it out. In fact, I would flush the tank a couple of times if the boat won't be used for a while. I think this might solve some odor problems as well. If you go out to sea and flush overboard, use plenty of water.

I can't prove any of this, and frankly, I'm not interested in trying to. But I throw it out as a possible solution to a very unsavory problem.

Wearing Gloves ...

or, Someone Really Could Die!

This happened in the marina I live in recently. A man was climbing up his very tall mast, with his wife on the halyard as a safety line.

I don't know what went wrong at the mast, but he slipped, and he needed that safety line to catch him. I also don't know what went wrong in the cockpit, but she did not have gloves on, and could not hold the line. It burned her hands and she had to let go.

He fell 70 feet.

What happened next was like something out of a movie. Instead of hitting the deck, he hit the Bimini. It gave just enough to cushion his fall. Then it split, and he fell through the Bimini to the cockpit, which hurt him more than the fall from the mast did. However, he was not seriously hurt.

I'm not opposed to wives handling the halyard when someone goes up the mast. I do it myself.

However: I always have gloves on, and I always hold the line firmly, with the assumption that this person is going to fall in the next split-second. I have his life in my hands, and that's how I treat it. 

But gloves aren't just for the tasks that are obviously hazardous from the beginning. Just about anything you do on a boat has the potential to become suddenly hazardous. Suppose you fall off your boat at the dock? It's remarkable just how common that is. If you have gloves on, your hands won't get cut by barnacles, and you'll have a much easier time getting out of the water. If you, say, broke an ankle going in, that could be important, especially if you're by yourself. 

I know someone else whose transmission on her smallish sailboat stuck in forward just as she was coming in to dock. She turned the engine off, and made her best guess about going in circles to slow it down before entering her slip, but she didn't get it *quite* right. Since she had gloves on, she was able to grab a line strung between the pilings and physically stop the boat. 

in a storm or rough seas, the stresses on the sheets multiply You can actually pull harder with gloves on than without them. Try it some time. As I've pointed out in other articles, weather can turn sour very quickly. If you already have gloves on, that's one less thing you have to do in the precious few minutes you may have before the ship hits the fan.

And ladies, shake the hand some time of an experienced sailor who doesn't wear gloves. Trust me -- you don't want your hands to feel that rough! If only for vanity's sake, gloves are the answer. They also help tremendously if the diameter of the line you have to pull on is small. My traveler would be an example of that, as is the line on many roller furlers.

While we're at it, I'm going to come down firmly on the side of wearing shoes -- and closed-toe shoes. Once again, if you fall in, you won't cut your feet on barnacles, and you'll have a much easier time getting out of the water. Now, I have a very dear friend whose opinion I highly respect, who can show you the research demonstrating that bare feet grip the deck best. That may well be, but that was only a grip test. It wasn't a "How many body parts can you injure in a storm?" test. I know someone who sailed to Key West in what should have been a good weather window, but he and his crew still got caught in a storm strong enough to knock them around. They came out on the other side of it with a concussion, cracked ribs, and a broken arm. Oh yeah -- the fellow in the open-toed sandals had a broken toe. They didn't have one person fit to sail the boat, although by working together they managed to get to a safe port.

Sailing gloves are like seat belts. When seat belts first came out, lots of people grumbled and said things like "You can't MAKE me wear it!" (Of course, now they can ...) but I was a young teenager, and my parents said, "Actually, yes, we CAN make you wear it." It became a habit, and now I'm not comfortable in a car unless it, and the shoulder harness, are on. I view sailing gloves in the same way. It's not something worth getting flapped over, and like my seat belt, they may never be the difference between life and death, but the restraint system in my car certainly was the difference between minor injuries and major injuries once. That's how I look at sailing gloves, and I urge you to make them part of your routine.

Where I Haven't Been ...

It's been some time since I've made an entry to my blog, and that time has been full of upheaval and big decisions.
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First I aggravated the sacro-iliac part of my back -- both sides (don't ever do things small, right?) It hasn't really improved. Instead I have modified what I do and how I do it. Fortunately it tells me *exactly* what it will and will not tolerate. This has been going on since ... last August.

What it will and will not tolerate is decidedly weird. I can help a friend up a mast with no problems at all as long as I keep my back straight. However, bending over slightly to fold my laundry causes marked discomfort. As a result, I have to send my laundry out.

But -- if I can help hoist someone up a mast, I can sail, right? Yes, I can, thank goodness. And the knee I sprained right before Christmas has finally healed, and that is no longer an obstacle. Sailing on the boat -- yes. Living on the boat, no. The configuration of the interior of my boat allows for lots of storage -- as long as you can stoop, bend and lift while twisting. Which makes my back holler.

In addition there seems to be no pain medication I can take except for aspirin, and as we have become more aware of the dangers of aspirin (and having had a husband who landed in the hospital for five days over a baby aspirin daily), I'm not really keen on gobbling aspirin like candy. As it turns out I don't tolerate NSAIDS, and anything related to codeine makes me ... vomit. So ... I have to obey the back.

The sacro-iliac, I have learned, is a strange little joint. It barely moves. Its location is where the very bottom of the spine meets the pelvis, and it seems to be connected to, well, everything else in the back. It can cause pain in your hips, down your thighs, across the small of your back and up both sides like bolts of lightning. As I said, obey the back.

So, I am announcing here that I am moving off the boat. I'm not distressed by this turn of events, because I got to live on her for three and one-half years. I've had experiences and adventures that I couldn't even imagine ten years ago. I started sailing when I was 62. I didn't have to have that opportunity and I most certainly was never guaranteed the experiences that followed.

I won't stop sailing, of course. I hope to do plenty of sailing on friends' boats. I intend to ply them with beer, and wine, and rum, and escargot if that's what it takes, but I don't expect to stop sailing.

What I'm saying is that just because an adventure may eventually end does not mean that you should not risk anything. When I started on this adventure I knew it would have to end eventually. In fact, that's why I moved on board, shortly before my 65th birthday. I had already survived breast cancer, and it occurred to me: "What are you waiting for? Another medical emergency? Will you be more ready for this afte you've broken a hip or had a stroke?"

None of us know how many days we will have in this life. A refrigerator could fall on me tomorrow. If it does, that calamity will happen whether or not I made it a point to do some of the things I really, really wanted to do first. I've said this before: I'm not saying to be foolish. I'm not advocating what the young couple from California did, recently -- attempt to sail around the world with an inadequately equipped boat (or they would have had a backup steering plan), an apparent inability to make simple repairs to their engine, and with a 1 year old and 3 year old in tow. (Small children, once they get sick, can get very sick extremely fast. Having experienced that with one of my children, I would never take a small child into what amounts to a wilderness, far away from first-rate medical care.)

I'm not suggesting people cash in their retirement plans, quit their jobs and buy a boat. But if you're smart, you can start on a plan toward such a goal. Start building your sailing skills. You've heard me say this before, too -- go out there and sail, but each time you do, practice something that clearly expands your skills. Try steering your boat with a couple of drogues, or go out on a slightly rougher day than you're used to with your sails reefed and increase your heavy weather skills. Or go out for five days instead of two days. Go someplace new.

Build your experience -- not just time over water, which doesn't count for anything unless you're decreasing the mistakes you make and increasing your expertise. If you race, don't always race, because the things you do while racing won't be the things you do in a storm. Use your chart plotter, but use a bearing compass, a chart, and that log you've been keeping (right?) and make your best estimate first. Then use the chart plotter to confirm.

Take a class in meteorology. Do everything you can to get as well prepared as you can, but for heaven's sake don't make it all book-learning. Even if all you can afford is a little 12' dinghy, get a boat and sail it.

I think I've done pretty well for the short amount of time I've had to learn, but keep in mind that I was retired and could take my boat out any time I wanted. I got in lots and lots of sailing time because I could go any time I wanted. You probably have a job spouse, children, all making demands on your time. Be creative and look for ways to make this hobby something your family enjoys with you, and you'll get to do it more.

Don't be sad for me, because I'm not sad about this. Living aboard the boat has been a delight (it's been very windy tonight, and the boat has been rockin' and rollin' and I AM going to miss that!), but I'll still be able to sail.

The truth is that the day will *also* come when I can't safely sail, and I'm not sure how I'll deal with that, but moving off the boat is not a crisis. It's just another change. I was lucky to find BCYC and extremely fortunate to get to do what I have done. Just keep in mind that you aren't guaranteed good health by the time you retire, and ... be sure you enjoy the now while you're planning for the future.