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.

Are You Really Gaining Experience ....

or are you just getting experienced at being lucky?

Most people who live along the Gulf of Mexico will remember an incident from several years ago. Four football players went out fishing on the Gulf of Mexico with tragic results. While the four men were missing but not yet found, one of the wives said, "I'm hopeful, because they're experienced boaters."

As it turned out, they weren't experienced in boating safely. They were experienced at being lucky, and on that day, their luck ran out.

At my sailing club, we were all surprised to hear they were 50 miles or so off shore -- at their favorite fishing spot -- because we had all known for days that a major front was coming through. It was March of 2009, and it's just a fact of life in Florida that fronts can come through and get the Gulf all riled up. Sailors and boaters should never ignore the weather, but especially January through March, when the fronts from the north can really make a mess out of the mostly shallow Gulf of Mexico.

But apparently these fellows were not aware of the fairly severe weather forecast. We noted at the club that not one person there had taken their boat out. In addition, the four fishermen were on a center console fishing boat. These boats are not designed for offshore use. They had been lucky in the past regarding the weather, and that luck had extended to using a boat inappropriate for the fishing they wanted to do.

Their luck ran out in March of 2009. They added to their problem by trying to retrieve an anchor that had set itself so hard that they couldn't get it back up. That can happen in rough water: the bow rises and falls, and with each rise and fall, the anchor sets itself more strongly. This can be a very good thing. You don't want your anchor dragging if you have to use it in a storm.

They compounded their problems by being determined to retrieve that anchor. When they couldn't get it up from the bow, they tied the end of the anchor rode to the stern of the boat, and then drove the boat forward. This can work ... when you're pulling a bush out of the ground with your car. (This is one more example of how driving a boat is completely different than driving a car). It can be a really bad idea in a boat. Boat vs. anchor, and the anchor won. It pulled the stern under (probably the waves helped), and the boat completely capsized.

If a sailboat capsizes, it is likely to right itself. The rigging may be destroyed, and you may have sailors injured and/or in the water, but they typically right themselves. This is not true of power boats.

So now they had four people in the water clinging to an upside down boat. One of the men dived under the boat and retrieved PFD's and water (they should have had their PFD's on already in rough water). Very sadly, three out of the four men drowned.

You may be doing something over and over that is a really bad idea, even though it has not made problems for you -- yet. One example might be running your engine harder than it should be run. My engine manufacturer tells me to never, ever run the engine above 3600 rpm. So I watch the RPM gauge, right?

Not exactly. I allow for a margin of error, because I'm not guaranteed that that RPM gauge is completely accurate. A friend just had his engine worked on, and one of the things the mechanic did was use a separate, digital tool to test how accurate his RPM gauge was. They discovered that his gauge was off by 400 RPM: when it read 3200, the engine was really running at 3600 -- redline for his engine also.

You might not be in the habit of routinely securing loose things below. Then a storm pops up unexpectedly, and you have damaged belongings in your cabin. Or, very commonly, you don't visit your boat often enough. I know of one person whose boat almost sank over a split hose, and another person who did have her boat sink over a split hose. These people aren't checking and working their seacocks, either, because they're not at their boats to do it. They're also not periodically starting their engines. Diesels love to run -- under load, not just idling -- and not doing this is not a good thing. I looked at a boat that was sailed often but not maintained well enough. The oil, when the engine was cold, was literally as thick as peanut butter. No way was I going to buy such a boat. The owners had gotten lucky and not had any serious engine issues because of their neglect of the oil. However, I wonder how the person who bought that boat fared. I know someone else who had a lot of water in her cabin. She didn't have time to sail, so she wasn't checking her boat. Her stuffing box was leaking, and the float valve on her bilge pump was sticking. Her boat also could have sunk. Her problem was spotted because she did the responsible thing and hired someone to do some basic maintenance.

You may be doing things as you sail that are not only inefficient but dangerous as well. Your best protection if you're a newer sailor is to actively network with other sailors. Don't be embarrassed to tell about the things that have gone wrong. Walk away from someone who sees this as a chance to look down their nose at you (they're out there), but cultivate the people who can show you what to learn from your experience. There is no more valuable friend a newer sailor can have.


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This Is not a Happy Topic

... Skin Cancer

It is widely believed among those who get a lot of sun exposure that having a tan will protect one from skin cancer. It *will* protect you from a casual burn, but it will not protect you from skin cancer. 

As I have recently found out, bad burns during child put one at greatly increased risk for squamous-cell skin cancer. 

You may have heard that the only "serious" skin cancer is melanoma. Melanoma is nothing to laugh at, that's for sure, but under the wrong circumstances, squamus-cell and even basal cell can become serious. As it happens, I haven't had yearly skin examinations, but I am saying now: GET THAT YEARLY SKIN EXAMINATION.

It wouldn't have helped me, as it turns out, unless that examination had been within the last three months or so, but most of the time it helps a great deal. I happen to have a rapidly growing squamous-cell skin cancer, on the bridge of my nose, and it's going to have to be dealt with aggressively. Most of the time, though, if you get that yearly skin examination, the doctor will find any skin cancers (even melanoma, which is highly treatable now if caught early) in plenty of time.

I have noticed that when I offer sunscreen to people on my boat, women take it if they forgot to use it, but men? I can't think of a single man I have ever seen use sunscreen. No, that's not true. I do know a couple. They have both had skin cancer and I guess the doctor got their attention.

Just because a skin cancer can USUALLY be removed in plenty of time does not mean you should be casual about this. Wear hats, and use sun screen. Unfortunately it hadn't been invented when I was a child, so a lot of people of my age are going to have otherwise unnecessary skin cancers. 

Don't be foolish. Use good sun screen, and reapply it periodically. Wear a hat (if it storms, you have my blessing to take it off in favor of your foulie hood!)

And get that yearly skin exam. Then, just because the doctor says "it's no big deal," don't think that means you're chasing monsters under the bed. It's just that you caught the monster very early. That's a very good thing to do.


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Memory Foam

Or, Gee, that bunk is hard!

You don’t have to live on your boat to need a comfy place to sleep. At the end of a day full of sailing, you’ve done a lot of physical work, and while you probably could sleep on a bed of nails, it should not have to be your only choice.

Enter memory foam. I don’t think that name is trademarked as I have seen it on foam toppers in stores like BIG LOTS and WAL-MART.

I’m not talking about the foam pads, often waffled in texture, from days gone by. I’ve tried those for other purposes. Maybe they make a psychological difference, but by morning your body will know there was nothing of significance on top of that lumpy, or old, or hard, mattress.

Memory foam is different in that it actually improves comfort. Yes. I’m saying it’s worth the money. And it’s not that much money any more. A twin bed-sized memory foam topper, 4” thick, may not cost you more than $100. Put it on top of the hard cushions typically used on most sailboat bunks and you’ll be a happy camper. My vee berth would require a double-bed size, but that doesn’t cost much more. 

Mention of the vee berth in particular brings us to the issue of shape. Very few things come to a right angle on sailboats, and only rarely is something like a berth standard-sized. That means you’re going to have to cut this foam, and cutting 4” foam can be a challenge. (I do recommend getting the 4”, but I like a soft bed.)

Unless you have an electric knife. Happily, I found one at WAL-MART in their small kitchen appliance center for only ten dollars . I didn’t even bother to try to make a pattern. I simply put the foam on the berth, and cut away the extra foam. I recommend doing that in several stages so you don’t accidentally cut away too much. You may find that your berth is, say, 2” shorter than the foam. Don’t try to force the knife through the foam too fast, and try to keep the knife vertical. However, the foam is packaged quite tightly at the factory, and you may find that it won’t really be completely its final shape until about 24 hours after you have unpacked it.

If you shape the foam precisely, it will fit snugly and tend to stay in place. I had to cut the front edge at an angle, as the berth was the width of a twin bed at one end but not the other. In addition, notches had to be cut out of the back edge. But any mess from the foam is easy to clean up afterwards.

These foam toppers come with mattress covers, which quite naturally are rectangular. Getting the cover on your cut foam is a battle and I suggest you have someone to help you with it.

Then flip the mattress over, and get a needle and thread. Pull the mattress cover tight, working from the edges to the middle, and just baste the folds of extra fabric down, and the mattress cover won’t shift around on you. It doesn’t have to look pretty; no one will ever see it. I also suggest putting a second mattress cover over that. That one will go on much easier than the first one did, and be more easily removable for laundering.

If you really want to go all-out, you can also modify a set of twin or double sheets (or whatever size you’re working with) to fit, but since that’s going to show, if you don’t have good sewing skills, find someone who does have the skills to do that. This time you will have to work on the top side, but a good seamstress can take the extra fabric up where the sheet folds over the edge of the foam, and you won’t have to lie on – or look at – a seam going down the middle of your mattress.

I don’t recommend using memory foam instead of the cushions already on your berth. Those cushions are made for a marine environment and meant to hold up to things like people sitting on them. But you can stow them in the vee berth during the day and pull them out at night if you live on your boat, or store them in any place free of dampness if you only use your boat on occasional weekends.

I have found this moderately priced memory foam to be extremely comfortable, and I’m a “Princess and the Pea” kind of woman – if the bed isn’t comfy, it drives me nuts.

Good luck with this, and … sweet dreams!




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