DON’T FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR CHART PLOTTER

      Or, Where DO these channel markers come from, anyway?

"Not all who wander are lost." 

JRR Tolkien

 Last spring at the end of sail school, all the sail school students were invited for a sunset/evening sail on Boca Ciega Bay. I was one of the host boats, and took some delightful people out.

One man in the group in particular was interested in learning everything he possibly could on this sail. So he got a fair amount of time at the helm, with me by his side since this was his first time sailing a boat of this size. He did a great job, too. He was a fast learner and I’m sure he’s still learning all he can.

As we were going in, I showed him how the chart plotter displayed the red and green channel markers so accurately that you could use the chart plotter to guide you through in pea soup fog. He stared at the chart plotter, watching the little icon that indicated my boat.

As we approached the entrance of the channel, he spotted the red marker on the chart plotter and stared at it intently. He had already heard about “Red right returning,” meaning to keep the red markers to the starboard of side of the boat when returning through an access channel.

And he was, indeed, approaching the channel with the red marker on the starboard side of the image of my boat on the chart plotter.

The problem was that he was not paying any attention to where the green marker was, and it’s a narrow channel.

So as we approached, I said to him, “Where’s the green marker?” He pointed it out on the chart plotter, not realizing that unless we changed course, and soon, we would hit that green channel marker. I took the wheel and pulled it to starboard, and then he saw what I was talking about. He saw it on the water first, and it made him gasp.

I told him – “Don’t fall in love with your chart plotter. Make sure you visually spot what you’re seeing on the screen."

The electronic gear can be fascinating. It’s kind of cool to watch how the depth changes as your depth sounder reads it. You soon learn that the ocean bottom is nothing like a road on land. Water depth can vary a lot in a very short distance. As long as your keel doesn’t touch any of it, it doesn’t matter, but it is interesting to observe.

Unfortunately we may (may, the inquiry hasn’t been done yet) have recently seen a case of what I call “electronics hypnosis” with tragic results out in the Seattle area. A 25’ sailboat and a very large, very fast ferry were on a collision course. They did collide, and although the man single-handing the sailboat survived, his sailboat is now at the bottom of a channel. We don’t know yet what happened except for one thing the sailboat skipper admitted to: he had recently been in some fog, and was focused on his radar screen.

He made a poor choice, choosing a channel that commercial ferries use at high rates of speed to double-check his electronics.

C’mon. We all know that the electronics tools are more than “gadgets” and can give us crucial information, but when you put a new one on your boat, get yourself out into open water before exploring it. Even then, set a kitchen timer to ring every two minutes so you can look around and make sure some boat isn’t gaining on you, on a collision course.

In fact, while you’re out there exploring your new chart plotter or whatever you got, take the time to explore it thoroughly, so when you are in heavy traffic you’ll only have to give it a quick glance. You wouldn’t drive down the road with your eyes intently focused on your rear view mirror, and you should use your electronics in the same way. If you need to dig through menus, make sure there’s no one around you, and if you have someone on the boat with you, put them on 360º constant watch so you don’t have to worry about playing bumper cars with your boat because you’re not familiar with your chart plotter yet. Even if the area is clear of boats, you still have to watch out for things like crab traps and lobster pots, which can make a royal mess of your propeller.

Tell your chart plotter: “We’re friends. I respect and admire you, but that’s all we can be.”

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Living On Your Boat Part Time

Living on one's boat isn't going to be most people's cup of tea. Limited space for clothes, no space for an ironing board, and no washer/dryer make simple tasks like dressing for work complicated. Mundane things have to be planned carefully, especially if your boat is on the hook.

And yet ... it can be so wonderful.

I got an 8 X 10 tarp (heavy duty) at Wal-Mart. I tied one end to the ends of my traveler, and I tie/bungee the other end to the Bimini frame. The sides hang down enough to keep all rain out of the great majority of the cockpit. It reminds me of tent-camping.

The night before last, my cat and I sat at the edge of the tarp, watching the rain fall, watching the storm clouds form and move on to be replaced by other storm clouds. The lightning displays were awe-inspiring. It was peaceful and cozy. I do have a fan under the tarp with us, so it doesn't get too stuffy.

It was a delightful experience, but only worth the trouble if you're going to spend the night on the boat. And to top it off, now I have another option for people to sleep on my boat on a trip, because I tried it -- I stayed dry. I folded up the edge of the tarp so the the fold went to the outside, and it channeled ALL the water ... to the scuppers. It's just a matter of having the right sized tarp for your boat.

If I hadn't moved aboard my boat, I never would have had seen the extended and phenomenal experience of bioluminescence in the water. Bioluminescence occurs when small algae that glow in the dark rapidly explode in numbers. I don't think marine scientists know why it happens, but it only happens occasionally in Boca Ciega Bay. In the little place I stayed, Pasadena Marina, the algae exploded into a fantastic bloom during the summer of 2102. When the water is disturbed, the algae get agitated and glow a beautiful, deep, neon aqua that can only seen to be believed.

This bloom started in early August and lasted well into October. At its peak, when you looked at little white caps on the water at noon, you could actually see the phenomenon. Water can sparkle in the sunlight, but this was like sparkling liquid diamonds. At night, you could jump into the water, and make "angels in the snow," only it was "angels in the algae." These algae have no harmful effects on humans, but don't jump into a marina to do this. Marina water isn't always the cleanest, and in addition, the most vicious shark on the planet, the bull shark, seems to like to hang around docks. So don't take foolish risks -- take your boat out of the marina, anchor, and give it a try.

ALWAYS leave one person on the boat, and make absolutely certain you have a good, long ladder so people will have no trouble getting back aboard.

Stay anchored out for the night. Spend a night or two on your boat.

At night it can be tricky to know whether your anchor is dragging or not, so here's an easy trick: use your MOB (Man Overboard) button to mark where you set the anchor. That will give you an easy reference for how far you might have dragged. Most chart plotters also have anchor alarms, but test it to make sure you can hear it.

I tried to photograph the bioluminescence and failed miserably, so here's a site where you can see this amazing sea event. Critters glowing below you; incredible displays of stars above you, not washed out by civilization's lights -- it just doesn't get much better than that.

Try this site to get some idea of what bioluminescence looks like:

http://biobay.com/

The bioluminescence isn't usually that intense in the St. Pete area, but it was in the southern end, at least, of Boca Ciega Bay, last summer. You'll never know the wonders you miss if you never spend the night on your boat.

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What is it Like to Live Aboard?

April 24, 2013

     "At sea, I learned how little a person needs, not how much."

Robin Lee Graham

I have imagined living in a small, moveable space most of my life. When I was eight I was fascinated by Flash Gordon’s rocket ship. With my dad’s help, I designed a rocket ship to be made out of wood. I wanted to build it in the back yard and live in it, in the back yard. In my heart of hearts I knew it couldn’t fly into outer space and land on the Moon, but a child’s imagination is a wonderful thing.

Then, when our children were 5 and 8 we rented an RV that wasn’t really all that big, and traveled throughout the Southeast for two weeks. It was the best vacation we ever had, and a completely minimalist life style: 4 forks, 4 spoons, 4 knives, 4 plates, etc., and 5 days of clothes for each of us. A two-burner stove, and I had no trouble producing good meals. In fact, we ate out only once. That RV experience showed me that I could live happily with minimal belongings and space. It won’t be right for everyone, but the simplicity appealed to me.

But now to the realities of choosing a sailboat. Your bathroom, the “head,” is so narrow that you can go in to use the toilet, or the “head within the head,”  and bruise both elbows on the two walls (pardon me – bulkheads – what – another ‘head?’) at the same time.

As it happens, I had a rough winter aboard this year. I had bacterial bronchitis, an inner ear infection that caused enough dizziness that I had to go to a motel for a couple of days, smoke inhalation that caused various kinds of chaos, then viral bronchitis, and finally a badly sprained shoulder. I didn’t get much sailing in. But living on the boat, I always felt the promise of sailing. I still felt the boat sway in the slip in the wind (in fact, I deliberately tie my boat up so it will sway).

Living on a sailboat, the problem-solving is constant, but usually, fun -- not annoying.

I live immersed in nature. While docked in salt water, I heard tiny shrimp eating algae off the side of my boat at night. Now in slightly brackish water, I hear little crabs eating the algae off day and night. When the very reliable bottom cleaner comes and cleans my hull, I miss sound of the crabs. I spent one summer in a marina that was swarming with bioluminescent algae. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and at one point, the algae were so prevalent that you could see them sparkling like diamonds at noontime on the tops of small waves. It was more intense than the normal “sparkle” you can see on water all the time.The manatee would come in six or eight at a time to drink from the fresh water spring at the end of the marina. Dolphin came in to corner fish and feast on them.

On the downside, I am constantly looking for things that have been stored in the wrong place. That’s because storage space is so precious that sometimes strange combinations of things have to be stored together. When I cruise with others on my boat, I put an empty plastic box in the middle of the cabin and tell people to just put things they use – everything they use – in that box. I need those things to go back where I keep them. Do you have labels on every cabinet and closet in your house (I mean on the outside)? I doubt it. But because of the storage problems mentioned above, it helps me tremendously. My P-Touch is one of my most-used gadgets. When I was researching this life change, I came across an article that said something like, “When living on a sailboat, you have to move two boxes and a body to get a cookie.” There’s truth in that.

I have to have a system for keeping things on the shelves that line the settees in case we should heel over strongly.  On one side I made panels that snap down and keep things from flying extremely well. On the other side I have a panel of netting I can stretch across the shelves that serves the same purpose.

I find living on a boat invigorating. The first time a storm was approaching, I went above decks and methodically secured everything, and had a great feeling of accomplishment knowing I had prepared the boat well.

But most of all, living on the boat makes the promise of adventure ever-present, concrete, and real. How many 67-year-old women can say that?

I doubt I’ll leave the marina I’m in now except to move back to land, which, I suppose, is inevitable some day. There are obvious potential risks to an older woman living alone on a boat, but this marina is a gated community. Only people who are on my dock have the code for the gate to my dock. I know someone who was murdered recently in his trailer park. A couple of days ago, a couple was murdered on their houseboat in an unsecured marina. Terrible things happen everywhere, but I feel safe here.

I thought there would be less housekeeping to do, since it was a smaller space, but a sailboat’s smaller space has many nooks and crannies that are awkward to get into and hard to clean.  For instance, suppose the task is to clean the head (and the head in the head and the bulkheads lining it). Cleaning the head can be a full body workout. You gather up your supplies: you’re going to need a tooth brush, and Q-tips to get into some spaces -- and get on to your hands and knees (get some knee pads). You squat down, contort yourself down onto your hands and knees in the VERY small space in front of the head ... and then you realize you left your favorite cleaner outside. So you back out into the 14” square space in front of the head, climb back off your knees, turn around, bend over and grab the cleaner. You reverse all that and get back to work. You've done five minutes of exercises and you haven't cleaned a square inch yet.

The cleaning supplies have to be stored in several places to use your storage as well as possible, and you’re careful to return them so you can find them when you have to do it all again. 

Then there’s the entire outside of the boat to maintain, plus all the mechanical elements. It’s complicated. You screw up while changing the oil, and you’re going to spray used engine oil all over your living room (I haven't done that yet -- just the image of it in my brain makes me very, very careful!)

But overriding all of the bothers is the promise of adventure. If I choose, I can just throw off the lines and take off, and I have done that. Or I can sail with friends, and I’ve done that too. On every single trip out, whether it was for an hour or for four days, I’ve learned something  that excited and energized me. I’m physically stronger than I was 20 years ago.

LESSON LEARNED: The things that kept me down this winter were not really related to age, nor to living on a boat. They were the same things that have followed me for years (well, except for the smoke inhalation -- that isn't about sailing, but I'll have to tell that story one day!) I never get through winter without a bout of bronchitis, for instance (and no, I don't smoke), and the shoulder injury was my own fault – and completely avoidable (see the blog entry about anchoring safely). That injury might have healed a little faster 30 years ago but it’s still just a bump in the road. I've made the right lifestyle choice for me, and I feel blessed.