First of all, I need to disclaim this entire blog as anything remotely close to a source of expert advice or opinion. It is not. For those of you with any experience with boats/sailing, please humor my ineptitude and laugh with me as I learn by doing. Writing things down helps me to remember, and my goal is to share with you in a way that's not technical, mostly topical, and at best, might make you smile the next time you find yourself in similar straits.
So now, I trust I will make at least one person #facepalm reading this list of 5 Things I've Learned Since Moving onto a Sea Cadillac with a Stranger Last Saturday (11/11).
Please let me know if you're that person.
5 Things I've Learned Since Moving into a Sea Cadillac with a Stranger Last Saturday
Said stranger seems to be (so far) a laid-back, kind, experienced captain... thank you universe
The day you think you'll leave port is not going to be the day you actually leave port
The importance (and volatility) of wind maps
The Boatyard has better oysters than McGarvey's
Do not flush tampons down the boat toilet
1. Said stranger seems to be (so far) a laid-back, kind, experienced captain... thank you universe
There are a hundred really good reasons not to fly across the country to meet a complete stranger you found on a Crew Finder forum on Facebook, or to move onto a sailboat with that stranger after a handful of phone calls to sail said boat across the Atlantic... especially when your sailing experience is 100% limited to Lake Travis in landlocked Austin, Texas.
So arguably the most important thing I learned this week is that Ben-- Captain Ben, formally-- is a kind, rad person; someone I already call friend.
Over beers and oysters and milling around in a boat together for a week in Annapolis, here’s what I can surmise so far (Ben, thank you for humoring me):
Ben grew up on a surfboard in Cape Town. He got started sailing ~12 years ago delivering boats around the South African horn, and has since racked up 160,000+ nautical miles at sea delivering, chartering, and racing boats around the Atlantic and Indian oceans. No big deal.
Through his job-- delivering boats around the Caribbean and beyond-- he's no stranger to skippering with novice crew. Even more, his crowd-sourced crew come from various walks of life: 52-year old ladies seeking adventure; 19-year-old boys seeking the same; military retirees, vagabonding couples, soul-searching singles... a revolving door of characters with whom he’s had to share limited space. So it's no small wonder that a marina regular described him to me as “a cross between Jesus and Captain Ron, yannoe?“.
Ben has dreams of buying his own boat, and making his way through Panama to the Pacific in the foreseeable future. His favorite show is Food, Booze and Tattoos on Netflix, because it reminds him of home. He spends about 1/4 of any sentence speaking in onomatopoeias ("we were trying to get there quick, right? Like tchk-tchk-tchk")... which he attributes in part to growing up near cultures where whistles and clicks are the language itself.
Other confidence-boosting details, Mom:
His first priority is safety. "We're not going out into fuck-all weather just to make dates work."
His #1 Rule: Don't fall off the boat.
We've had candid conversations about hard things: respect, trust, setting expectations, how we communicate/take feedback, personal space. Critical when your home is sub-300 sq ft.
This gig includes a lot of alone time at sea as we swap between watches. So it's been cool to be able to get to know each other before taking to the water... but for Ben, planning for a few days to acclimate/evaluate each other is just best practice; an MO that's helped him avoid some otherwise sketchy crew.
So, so far so good. Taking everything a day at a time. Especially because:
2. The day you think you'll leave port is not going to be the day you actually leave port.
It's only the second time this has happened to me personally, but the pattern seems apt (the first was when an imminent squall postponed our boat voyage from Whittier, AK to the oyster farm by a week). Now on this exceptionally gusty Sunday in Annapolis, we should have left 4 days ago.
But the more reliant you are on a boat, the more bound to favorable conditions your plans must become. Favorable conditions that must come into magical alignment include:
Legal conditions: For us, this means the owner of the boat closes on the boat, finalizes paperwork, makes sure that all the toys, bells and whistles are aboard
Mechanical/electrical conditions: We're prepping a brand new boat for it's maiden voyage. So making sure before we're out there in the middle of endless blue for the first time that the boat itself works and functions as it's been sold to.
Wind/weather conditions: Perhaps the most obvious, but also the most important. Favorable in our case means the wind itself is not going to be gusting at 40+ knots (like it is today), completely against you, or at least "off the beam", meaning the wind is at least coming at an angle that isn't diametrically opposite your heading (stay tuned for edits/corrections).
Our situation has been such that the most favorable few days of wind (that would have sent us safely cruising south through the open Atlantic) occurred while awaiting the first two conditions to be met. So although I arrived a week ago, only two days ago did the legal stuff get sorted, and only yesterday did we realize the port thruster wasn't working... yay new boats!!!
Today, Sunday 11/19 it looks like we won't be setting off 'til tomorrow, the 20th, when weather finally looks agreeable enough to scoot down the Chesapeake, then hug the eastern seaboard to the Carolinas. We'll wait out some ugly bouts of low pressure, and then set off south toward Grenada.
But again. One day at a time.
Looking at the weather charts, it looks like it's going to be a hell of a ride down...
3. Always do your research before you leave port... and do it often
On the boat, Ben checks the wind forecast every few hours on his iPad the same way that some people check Facebook. He's looking for critical changes in forecasts that dictate how and when we'll leave. But with everything being up in the air (lol)/anyone's guess, there are several apps in particular that he trolls regularly throughout:
Navionics - for plotting a course, navigating underwater channels and routes
PocketGRIB - for forecasting areas of Low and High pressure, wind, precipitation, etc.
WindFinder - another wind forecasting tool, different datasets
PredictWind Offshore - another wind forecasting tool, but my favorite... because color
I asked him to explain Sunday's PocketGRIB predictions along the route:
And another video of Ben purely to showcase him saying ‘Bahamamamas’:
4. The Boatyard has better oysters than McGarvey's
In the 5 days of prep and idle time here in Annapolis, Ben and I may have eaten somewhere in the ballpark of 40-45 oysters between these two Happy Hour hideouts... for about $40-45.
McGarvey's (James River oysters, wild) - These wild harvested oysters are toothy to bite but almost bland, and definitely not briny (because a river, perhaps?)... their shallow, round shells don't retain their liquor well once opened, so eat hastily lest they get too dry as you admire them. Found a good few anemones still attached to the shells, a testament to their natural habitat of the shallow, brackish river estuary. (That said, below is a picture of the... third... time we got oysters from McGarvey’s. This time, Ben ordered 2 doz to go, still in shells. And then magic
Boatyard (Chesapeake Bay oysters) - Also wild caught oysters, but the taste and presentation overall wins me over (I am a shucker, after all...) Clean cuts, light brine (further out into open salt water), and lots of liquor. These oysters tasted like kissing the Chesapeake itself. And the cucumber mignonette!!!!!
5. Do not flush tampons down the boat toilet.
I repeat: do not flush tampons down the toilet. FYI, a boat toilet is called the 'head', so do not flush tampons down the head. So now you know. Just don't do it. Because then, you'd have to have that awkward conversation with the boat captain, whom you just met, at 9 in the morning over coffee, that not only are you on your period, but that your Shark Week weapon of choice is now jamming the brand new $800k cruising yacht's toilet macerator. And you've been here 1 day.
Luckily, this is not his (Ben, the captain's) first rodeo. On our way back to the boat, we pass a dock-neighbor who's getting rid of some coat hangers. Ben suggests using one to make a hook of sorts, and 5 minutes of fishing later, I triumphantly retrieve a *thankfully* white wad of cotton from the depths. At that moment I'm caught in a strange mix of feeling fucking awesome and fucking disgusting as I realize I now need to disinfect EVERYTHING around me in this tiny fiberglass bathroom.
Honestly, that should be the case for every toilet I KNOW. I KNOW. Never again.
Fuck tampons anyway (this girl gets it)
germansingergirl
gummygunk
origamiaround
blakekathryn
areudirty
