With five kids, and three being energetic boys, it’s inevitable that we’re going to have some cuts and bruises.  We’ve had to have one kid stitched up, but so far we’d managed not to have any broken bones.  
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Well, no longer.  We’ve got one now, and a leg no less.  

So which little hellion was it?  Did Eli fall from a tree?  Did Aaron get hurt during a wrestling free-for-all?  Did Sarah wipeout on her rollerblades?  Was Sam injured in some daredevil stunt gone awry?  Nope.  

Last night, on the eve of her 7-month birthday, Rachel took a dive off of her changing table.  Tanya was right there, but sometimes two hands just aren’t enough.

It was a little hard to tell at first, but by morning it was obvious she was really hurt and Tanya took her to the emergency room.  The left femur is broken just above the knee.  Not sure how it happened, but I suppose it could have been much worse.  And for the second time in as many months I find myself thinking, “I’m sure glad that didn’t happen in the Bahamas.”

Other good news is that Rachel was fitted with a brace and not a cast.  A cast would have covered half her body and required she be sedated.  I’d hate to be the doctor who tries to “put under” one of Tanya’s kids.  He might get put under something himself.  

It’s also fitting that this post follow Tanya’s Thanksgiving post, since we had three heroines step up to tag-team the Fantastic Four while Tanya was at the hospital and I am flying back from the Left Coast.  Even the regular Friday boat-cleaning chores got done.  Wow.

Rachel, of course, will be fine.  Damage to our checkbook remains to be seen.  Tanya had to meet with a social worker, but an "investigation" won’t be necessary.

We’re not bad parents, really.  This is just one of those things that happen.  It’s kind of a miracle any of us survive childhood.

It seems we’ve gotten a bit behind in our posts lately.  There are lots of good reasons for this, but now I’ll try to get us caught up.

I’d been tempting fate in more ways than just claiming my toilet was clog-proof.  I’d also been claiming I don’t get sick.  Best we can figure, it had been about five years since I had been.  Spending lots of time on airplanes and in cold weather with no ill effect had bolstered my confidence.  Then everyone on the boat got a cold except me, and I was feeling downright superhuman.  Notice this is all past tense.  Because then it all caught up with me and a bad cold took me down for two weeks.  I even missed a week of work, which for me is unheard of.  Now I’m on the mend and looking forward to another 5 years, but my cold is going around the boat and Tanya and Rachel are suffering.  

I found yet another area of rot in the port-side cabintop.  It’s been a long-term problem which I really wish had been found in the survey.  This is the third repair.  The good news is that I’m a lot better with the epoxy than I was in the beginning.  Hopefully I’ve got it licked this time.  

Usually the rot I find is the fault of owners or boatyard workers who don’t appreciate the critical importance of bedding hardware correctly, but this time it was the builder.  The source was the jib track and I didn’t find any evidence that it had ever been removed.  I removed it and to do that I had to pull down part of the ceiling in the salon.  I tried to preserve it, but the ceiling isn’t really removable, and I think we’ve finally found the excuse to replace it with something a little more attractive.

Our interior projects have really gotten out of hand.  We’re way beyond the initial scope and there’s still more I want to do.  It’s really hard to stop when we have a carpenter we like and does such good work.  At this point I could have bought a pair of shiny new 54hp Yanmar diesels for what I’ve spent on woodwork.  

He’s not the most punctual guy, though, and completion dates are very slippery.  I used to get all tense about this because I had my eye on our departure at the end of the summer.  Well, we’ve finally admitted that that isn’t going to happen.  The time to leave is right now and we’re not ready.  So we’ll be here for the winter.

I have work through the end of the year requiring me to travel, and unfortunately I need the work.  I had multiple opportunities this summer for work I could have done while cruising, but none of them came through for me.

It’s disappointing, but not all that surprising.  It was a known risk when we came back to the dock.  Now the big question is how we’re going to stay warm.  The last winter we spent aboard in Florida left a very bad impression on us.  

Although fundamentally they work just like a heat pump in a house, our air conditioners are not set up to reverse-cycle for heat.  And due to some quirks in our electrical system and the way our interior is laid out, we currently can’t run enough space heaters to keep the whole boat warm at night.  These are the most expedient methods to heat the boat, but both have very high electrical demands and only work at the dock.

Burning diesel for heat is a much more strategic use of fuel and would allow us to reasonably heat the boat away from the dock.  The question isn’t just about hot air either.  We like hot water even in the summer.  Currently, we make hot water either by an electrode in the tank, or through a heat exchanger with the generator.  Neither is very energy efficient.   Ideally, we wouldn’t need to run the generator anyway.  Add to this that our hot water tank is leaking and needs to be replaced.  Taken together these problems lead me toward thinking about a whole new diesel-heated water tank and hydronic heat system with hot water circulating through radiators around the boat.  This would be an awesome system… in Alaska.  It’s a lot of overkill in a boat destined for the tropics.

We have a very “do it right” attitude about boat projects on Take Two, and sometimes it takes some effort to balance that with the original goals to be cruising.  The more painful thing to remember is that she’s a 20-year-old boat and sometimes perfection just doesn’t make sense.  So it probably means we should skip the diesel heat.  We’re already planning to fix our electrical shortcomings, which should allow us to run 4 or 5 space heaters.  We’ll just need to give that project a little higher priority.

The other side of “do it right” is we live with a whole lot of temporary fixes until we can figure out what “right” is.  Window covers were on the summer project list since before we hit the dock, but I could never figure out the right way to do it.  I couldn’t strike the right balance between shade, visibility, and ventilation.  Instead, we spent all summer with covers duct-taped in place.  Good thing, too.  After only one season, the covers became incredibly dirty and we were unsuccessful at cleaning them.  I’m now realizing we should skip the covers entirely and put our effort into awnings.

When we do cruise again, a couple recent changes should make life simpler.  We’ve added a feature to our mail service allowing us to receive electronic images of our mail, and direct them to send it to us, scan the contents, or shred it.  I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner.  Now we know what we’ve received immediately, instead of finding out whenever we happen to request a mail shipment.  In the end I think it will save us money on unnecessary shipments, and allow us to keep closer tabs on our mail.

The other change is to our banking arrangements based on a tip from the Bumfuzzles.  Capital One’s online checking account will allow us to use ATMs worldwide without a fee.  By using ATMs we can get cash as we need it, rather than carrying a bunch with us.  Plus the ATMs give local currency and we don’t have to worry about currency exchange.  The debit card linked to the account doesn’t have any foreign transaction fees like all our current cards do.

The last bit of news is that Sugar has died.  She had been looking unwell for weeks and had gone from her regular 8lb weight down to 5.  The vet ran some simple tests, but when they didn’t turn up anything obvious, I decided to have her euthanized.  This has been surprisingly painful for Tanya and me.  It happened over a month ago now and we’re still not completely over it.  Just when we thought we were, our last monthly mail shipment contained this card from the vet’s office.  Jerks.

In my recent description of our electric toilet, I boldly declared it clog-proof.  While I’m sure many wise men shook their heads grimly at my foolishness, allow me to point out that it’s not that people haven’t tried.

Shortly after our carpenter left the boat yesterday, Tanya alerted me to an alarming noise from the toilet during flushing.  We both came to the conclusion a screw had somehow been dropped in it during the course of the day.  The toilet still worked and I gave it a couple good flushes to see if it could pass the screw, but felt that the screw was ultimately going to win this contest and that I’d better get it out.  

As far as working on toilets goes, this was a piece of cake.  Since the toilet wasn’t actually clogged, I could run a lot of water through it to clear the discharge line first.  And since the toilet macerates as it flushes, the discharge line is only 1” so there was only about a quart of liquid in it anyway.  I was able to get a little bucket under the connection and managed to catch every drop of what came out when I opened it.  Compared to the gallon of shit that always ends up on the floor in the other bathroom, this was a big success already.

Once disconnected, I turned the toilet upside down, loosened a couple screws and one hose clamp and the pump was free.  I turned it around, looked inside, and there, bright and shiny like a little gem, was a 1” #8 oval head screw.  

The carpenter is not going to hear the end of this for quite a while, but actually I’m very happy.  Not that he dropped a screw in my toilet of course, but that the removal went so smoothly.  I had it apart and back together again in less than an hour, which is a record.  The boat did not have to be evacuated, and no mopping with bleach or full-body scrubbing was required afterward, all of which are part of a normal toilet repair in my experience.

While removing the screw, I discovered evidence that another crime had been committed.  I found some string and what looked like a cardboard tube wrapped around the shaft of the chopper blade.  Even with my limited experience, I know a feminine product when I see one.  I guess I can’t blame that on the carpenter.  A guest must have flushed that months ago.  I was shocked that it had been done, but also immensely gratified that the toilet survived unscathed.

I never like disassembling a toilet.  And obviously we’re going to be more careful about telling guests how to use it.  But if the only thing I really have to actively deal with is when somebody drops something metal in it, I’m okay with that.

When we bought Take Two, all four of the existing toilets went directly into the nearest dumpster.  One of them was replaced with a manual Jabsco model and we temporarily lived that way for about 2 years.  

During that time, we experienced a wide variety of problems.  Incoming sea life caused the bowl to smell awful, and minerals in the salt water contributed to scale buildup in the bowl and the hoses.  The doses of vinegar proscribed by many to combat the salt water were oddly coincident with failures of the joker valve, which is responsible for preventing the backflow of flushed contents into the bowl (which also smelled awful).  Left unchecked, the scale constricts passages and contributes to clogs.  

Oh, the clogs: clogs in the bowl, clogs in the joker valve, clogs in the anti-siphon loop, clogs in the y-valve, clogs in the vent, and worst of all, clogs in the pickup tube of a very full tank.  Clearing a clog is a very nasty and hateful job.  Ten times out of ten, they are caused by too much toilet paper.  For this reason, some boats don’t allow users to flush toilet paper.  But that sounds nasty and hateful in its own right.

For all the trouble we had with the toilet as a system, the machine itself was surprisingly trouble free.  Servicing a family with four children is hard duty and Jabsco toilets are not the pillar of reliability.  They are probably the cheapest units available and have about a hundred parts.  Plus, I’m convinced that children are capable of breaking absolutely anything.  So I think the Jabsco has done remarkably well.

Boats have to be able to “hold it” when in near-shore or protected waters, so that creates the necessary evil known as the holding tank.  I generally give Take Two’s designer a lot of credit for his ingenuity and foresight, but he really screwed the pooch on her holding tanks.  Maybe he figured they were just lip service to local regulations and no one would actually use them, which is probably largely the case for her originally intended use in the Caribbean.  There are four holding tanks, each located under the floors in the forward cabins and under the beds in the aft cabins.  It is very, very difficult to create a holding tank setup that doesn’t stink, and the original tanks just don’t cut it.  The one toilet we used therefore pumped into the tank of the one cabin we didn’t use.  

Removing the contents from the tank can be done with a shoreside hose through a deck fitting, or overboard through a dedicated pump and thru hull.  The pump is a “macerator”, which chops the material with a blade as it is removed from the tank, but the actual suction for the removal is provided by a rubber impeller.  It is a seriously flawed design.  It seems like we get about 2-3 uses out of the macerator before it stops working and has to be rebuilt.  Rebuilding a macerator is my second least favorite job on the boat.

After living with that arrangement for a while I began to conceive what an ideal head setup would look like, and earlier this summer I set about implementing those ideas in our master cabin.  The goals were for the toilet to be clean, odor-free, and most importantly, clog-free.  Six months later, I feel complete confidence declaring partial success.

The centerpiece is our Raritan Marine Elegance fresh water electric flush toilet.  If a toilet can be elegant, this is it.  At $700 and practically four parts, it is a polar opposite from the Jabsco design.  Using fresh water immediately eliminates much of the odor related to the toilet.  Rather than being a simple pedestal, the base is more like a shroud that is designed to be backed up to a wall.  It is smooth and clean and even creates the possibility of running the plumbing through the wall, eliminating the “hose theme” decorating most heads.

The electric flush is provided by a powerful motor and a centrifugal pump.  No rubber impellers here.  And the chopper blade is in the toilet, so nothing but soup ever enters the plumbing.  I think its clog-proof, but I'm knocking on wood just to be safe.

The new toilet flushes only to the tank.  This is to simplify the plumbing, but also to remove the hole below the waterline.  There’s nothing quite like a 1-1/4” thru-hull breaking off in your hand and a geyser of water rushing in.  This has happened.

Our tank is also completely different, primarily because it is not in the boat’s living space.  Our forward heads are against the watertight “crash” bulkheads that separate our bows from the interior space.  While I am loath to drill any hole in my boat, let alone a watertight bulkhead, I felt it was the right thing to do in this case.  The pipe through the bulkhead is sealed with a Uni-Seal, so is still watertight, but I also put it very high on the wall.  The only way it should become any kind of an integrity issue is if the decks are awash or the boat is inverted.  Integrity is pretty much gone at that point anyway.

The tank has two vents, one on each side of the bow.  This is partially to encourage airflow, theoretically feeding the aerobic bacteria that keep the tank “sweet”, but also to reduce the likelihood that both could become plugged at the same time.  If the vent is plugged, by an insect nest for example, then the contents of the tank can’t be removed.

For evacuation of the tank, we still have a deck fitting for shoreside pumpout, and our own pump to send the stuff overboard.  Differences are that each has a separate pickup tube into the new tank.  So there is no y-valve to select between them, and if one becomes clogged, the other will still work.  Clogging is near impossible since the pickup tubes are 1.5” PVC.  Remember, the inlet is only 1” hose.  Another advantage is that I can easily rinse the tank and pump from the deck without having to futz with a y-valve.

The pump is a Jabsco diaphragm pump with a 1.5” bore.  Again, no damn impellers.  It could probably pass a sock.  The overboard discharge is above the waterline, which is not ideal because of smell and the mess it leaves on the side of the boat, but it’s safer and I could install it with the boat in the water.

So how does it work?  Very well, but there have been a few things I’ve learned the hard way.

After six months the discharge hose has begun to develop a distinct odor.  This is disappointing.  I originally used SeaLand OdorSafe hose that I found at West Marine. I know now that
Trident 101/102 is much better hose and I’m going to replace the SeaLand as soon as I find some of the Trident stuff.

The Jabsco is on a 50 gallon tank and can accommodate the whole family for about 10 days before filling it.  The electric toilet fills its 20 gallon tank within 7 days, with only two adult users.  The flush cycles are supposedly programmable, but I have been unable bring its water usage down to where I’m happy with the automatic functions.  Instead, I prefer to control the flush water and pump activation manually through momentary buttons on the control panel.  I suppose I could also add a partially closed ball valve to the toilet’s supply to restrict the flow.

Because of the tendency to overfill the tank, a gauge is really necessary for us to monitor our capacity.  For our purposes, I like the Electrosense and ordered the version that runs from a 9V battery. I haven’t yet installed it, but it's really straightforward and I don’t expect any difficulties.

Finally, with separate tank outlets for the deck pumpout and overboard discharge, I’ve discovered the need for a ball valve between the tank and the discharge pump.  When sucking out the contents through the deck, the suction can be enough to invert the valves on the discharge pump.  I expect the Coast Guard may also be happier seeing a valve that can be “locked” with a zip tie.

The issues immediately come to mind for most people with regard to an electric toilet, namely power and water usage, and maintenance, are not so much of a concern for me.  Even when I think the toilet is overusing water, 20 gallons a week is just not that much.  I think our weekly production is somewhere around 400 gallons, so an extra 20 is not going to have a big impact.  Now rolling out a second toilet for the kids does give me pause, and I think I’ll have to find a way to regulate the flush water before that happens.

The power consumption is truly negligible for us.  Total daily runtime is under a minute.  

For maintenance, I really can’t see what could be likely to go wrong with it.  I’m probably just not using enough imagination, but this new toilet is way, way simpler than a Jabsco.  If you really want the ultimate in simplicity, go get a bucket at Home Depot.  But for elegance, I’ll take the electric toilet.

I made some new additions to Take Two’s instrument network this week:

Standard Horizon Matrix AIS GX2100 VHF radio.  This replaced our previous fixed VHF and gives us an “automatic information system” receiver.  Commercial vessels are required to transmit information like name, location, course, and speed (among other things) to other vessels.  Receiving AIS data helps other vessels identify, hail, and ultimately avoid each other.  Many recreational vessels are adding transmitters too, but a receiver-only solution was a much simpler install and suits our purposes just fine.  The GX2100 has its own display on the head unit as well as the optional remote we use at the helm.  It also outputs the data for display on other instruments.

MaxSea TimeZero navigation software.  For years, we’ve used a little handheld Garmin as our primary navigation tool.  It works fine, but I’d like a little more functionality and a bigger screen.  Unfortunately, a larger fixed mount chartplotter is a significant investment… and compromise.  So I opted to go with computer-based software instead.

MaxSea can receive the AIS data and does a very nice job displaying it.  The AIS data includes a ship’s length and width and MaxSea uses this to draw an outline of the ship.  From our slip we’re receiving AIS data from up to 20 miles away, which covers all the traffic in and out of Tampa Bay.  I’m a bit of a shipwatcher, and I find the AIS very entertaining.  I know when a ship is about to enter the Bay because I can see the pilot boat leave to meet him out at the sea buoy.  I can’t see Port of Tampa from here, but if he’s headed to Port Manatee, I can follow him through the lower Bay, and then watch the tugs maneuver him up to the quay.  The same data (upper bay only) is available online at http://www.marinetraffic.com/ais/, but it’s more interesting to watch with my own gear.

Asus Eee Pad Transformer tablet.  I’ve never felt an attraction to tablets, but I finally found an excuse to try one.  I still wanted a mobile display that could be used out at the helm or wherever I happen to be (like my bunk).  It runs Splashtop Remote Desktop HD and does a pretty good job controlling MaxSea through the touch interface over Wi-Fi.

I chose an Android tablet for this experiment because that’s what my phone runs, and I prefer open platforms.  Although Apple’s market dominance is undeniable, I’ve always found their products frustrating.  If the tablet turns out to be indispensable but an iPad becomes necessary, I won’t have any qualms about getting one of those as well.

Lantronix UDS2100 Serial-to-Ethernet converter.  This is to stream the serial data from our existing NMEA network through our wireless router.  It is a 2-channel model that can simultaneously handle the regular instrument data and the new AIS data, which are at different bit rates.  The converter includes a driver for the computer that represents each serial channel as a virtual COM port, so any computer application should work seamlessly.  Now the navigation computer can read with the boat’s instruments data and send waypoints to the autopilot wirelessly.

There are still a few issues that keep this from being a perfect solution:

The current crop of tablets aren’t quite suitable for outdoor use.  My laptop is daylight-visible, but this is relatively rare and I have yet to see a tablet that can be easily viewed in direct sunlight.  Being waterproof would also be another huge benefit for any device I hope to use at the helm.  And a way to mount it would be nice.  I have only seen one waterproof mounting solution (http://sites.google.com/site/dndistribution2011/), and it is only for the iPad.

I’m concerned about battery life on the tablet, but it shouldn’t be a big deal to plug it in at the helm, which is probably the only scenario where the display would be on all the time.  Being plugged in may not be compatible with being waterproof, though.

The combination of MaxSea and the Splashtop Streamer puts a serious load on the laptop.  I’ve had heat problems with laptops in the past, so I don’t know how well this setup will work in ambient summer temps.

I’d really like to be able to multicast the NMEA data to multiple devices, but I’m not sure I could do that with this setup.  I can envision having multiple tablets, each dedicated to displaying different information.  I may be overdoing it in this regard, though, since it looks like the marine vendors are already moving in this direction with their displays.  The new Raymarine i70 and Garmin GMI 10 products are both multi-function instrument displays.  They are waterproof and daylight-viewable, but they are also fixed in place and about $500 each.  That’s pretty steep when one iPad has more screen real estate than four instruments.

I’d also argue that marine vendors are not doing a very good job displaying wind and heading data in an intuitive way.  I’ve had some ideas along these lines and have created a prototype in Windows.  Part of the reason for getting the tablet is as a development testbed.  But that’s for another post.

Everything we do on Take Two is with a mind toward simplicity and redundancy.  While using tablets and running instrument data over Wi-Fi may not sound simple, it’s really not that bad.  The technology is used by millions of people and the parts are almost a commodity.  Besides, we haven’t removed any existing functionality.  We still have the USB connection for the computer, and we still have the Garmin.  We even have a sextant, not that we know how to use it.  Maybe there’s an app for that.

We blasted Take Two out of her slip this past week.  She hadn’t moved in over six months, so we weren’t entirely sure how it was going to go.  It went fine, of course.  

First stop was the fuel dock where we made a god awful mess inside our port hull, which is pretty much par for the course.  The story of our last visit to the fuel dock is not yet ready to be told publicly.  Thankfully we only have to do it about once a year.

Then it was out into Tampa Bay to train the new autopilot and see what else might be broken.  We had previously complained that our autopilot was suffering from narcolepsy, so I decided to swap it for the spare.  The new one has a rate gyro which hopefully will help it hold a better course in following seas.  The install went very smoothly since I was really just changing the brain portion and not any of the ancillary sensors.  It seems I got the compass backwards somehow since after calibration it showed perfect reciprocal headings.

We were surprised to be hailed twice on the radio by boats that recognized us.  I think that doubled the number of times I’ve ever been hailed on channel 16.  Of course I wouldn’t really know because I’m notoriously apathetic about the VHF and usually don’t even have it on.  About halfway through our cruise to the Bahamas we realized the stupid thing didn’t even work.  A new antenna must have done the trick because it’s working now.  I even tested it with SeaTow’s cool Automated Radio Check service.

On the way back in we realized another benefit to having a kid that can drive the dinghy.  About 10 minutes out from the marina we sent Aaron ahead so he could catch our lines.  No longer do we have to depend on a marina being open, or the dockhands speaking English.  From now on, I’m going to have my own guys on the dock to bring me in.

The trip was a shakedown of sorts.  It was really about getting the fuel, but we also wanted to make sure the boat was functional for a trip to the beach with another family a couple days from now.  All systems appear to be go for that.  We’ve got a couple things to work on before we can do an overnight, and then we’ll set our sights on the Tortugas.

I usually don’t get too involved in the day-to-day operations of educating our children.  Tanya does an excellent job there.  I am good for random unplanned lessons in science, history, economics, or civics, but my role is mainly that of principal.  I offer encouragement when needed and apply discipline when required.  And I help set the strategic direction of the curriculum.

Some of my favorite tenets of our homeschool are: Life is school – the best lessons are the ones that are learned in daily life.  Kids should be free to discover and develop their natural talents and interests.  They should learn a skill, something they love and can do with their hands.

We invest a lot in our lifestyle, but in reality it is all about the kids.  We view raising these children as the single most important thing we’ll do in our lives.  We could get all stressed out about that, or we could have fun with it.  Living on a boat, we’ve created an environment of self-sufficiency, exploration, and adventure.  What they’re learning in school often dovetails nicely with something tangible in their daily experience.  All critters are identified.  All weather and atmospheric conditions are explained.  Physical forces are understood.  We play “I Spy” with the globe.

The part of my role that I most enjoy is that of a magic genie.  I can grant wishes in the name of education.  Or at least give a taste of it.  Some of those dreams have to be tempered down to something realistic.  For example, I know Sarah's deepest desire is for a stable full of horses.  That just isn’t going to happen as long as we’re living on a boat.  But I can swing riding lessons.  And apparently baby sisters grow on trees around here.

Eli is the outdoorsman.  He’s been the beneficiary of a SNUBA trip, rock climbing at a local gym, and just received his first knife.  Aaron’s dinghy driving skills have been well documented here, but he also has a hankering to drive something with wheels.  For a boy 49 inches tall, that means go-karts.  He and I rode those go-karts until we couldn’t take anymore.  His interest in music netted him a guitar and an iPod full of classic rock.  This counts as school in my book.

What about Sam?  Well, Sam wants to fly like Superman and climb walls like Spiderman.  That just doesn’t leave me much to work with.  But when he wants to build a laser, I’ll be there.

I'm thinking about the Bahamas alot today — remembering all the beautiful places we visited and trying to imagine them in the midst of a Category 3 hurricane.

Most cruisers left the Bahamas a long time ago.  The ones that didn't go back to the US are probably now farther south in places like Grenada, Trinidad, or Panama where hurricanes (statistically) don't go.

Some swear the summer is the best time to cruise the Bahamas.  Calmer breeze, warmer water, fewer people.  I've heard they have some bugs, though.  Nonetheless, I had been intrigued by the prospect and half-considered a trip to the Bahamas earlier this summer.  Now I'm horrified that the thought even crossed my mind.

It isn't that the Bahamas are so much more likely to get hit by a hurricane than a random spot on the US coast (okay, maybe a little bit more likely), but the preparation and evacuation experiences would be completely different.  The US has stores for buying supplies.  Boats can be secured up rivers and deep into mangroves, or hauled out at a marina.  You can get off the boat and into a car (or a plane) and leave. And if the boat ends up on a beach (or a house), there are cranes and equipment to help get it off and boatyards to repair it.  None of these are really available in the Bahamas, or to a lesser extent the rest of the Caribbean.

Of course the US will have about a million people trying to do the same thing, and pulling the boat off a beach is not something you ever want to do.  So preparation and avoidance are key.

On the preparation end, Take Two carries all the gear we think we'd need to secure her for any storm she has a chance of surviving.  Our hurricane plan calls for five anchors, lots of chain, lots of heavy shackles, ratchet straps, chafe gear, and air tanks.  We've got it all, but deploying it would still be a hell of a job. 

Wherever we are, we're always thinking about where we would go for all-around storm protection.  From north to south my list of holes in the Bahamas is Black Sound, Treasure Island, Little Harbour, Royal Island, Norman's Pond, and the Redshanks anchorage in Elizabeth Harbour.  No guarantees with any of those, of course.  Little Harbour looks dicey from a surge standpoint, and I've heard that Royal Island has failed to provide protection in prior storms.

Avoidance is better.  We already endeavor to avoid Florida winters.  I think we'll add hurricane season to that list as well.

We feel the need for some method of long-distance communication.  Currently, we lose access to weather forecasts as soon as we leave Wi-Fi and VHF range, both of which are very short, about 2 and 20 miles respectively.  We’re fair weather sailors and depend heavily on weather forecasts when traveling.  We also like to get off the beaten path, but feel the need to stay at least somewhat connected by email.

There is much debate about whether a marine HF radio (called Single Side-Band, or SSB) or a satellite phone is best to fill this need.  Of course, each has its own strengths and weaknesses:

• SSB radio supplies broadcast or “party line” communication where one station can talk to many.  The satellite phone is point-to-point just like a regular phone.
• SSB can transmit and receive over thousands of miles and potentially halfway around the world (depending on atmospheric conditions).  The satellite phone can call any telephone from almost anywhere on the globe (depending on provider).
• SSB can only communicate with other stations, while the phone can only communicate with other phones.  So you need the satellite phone to call mom on her birthday, and the radio to talk to another boat.
• SSB is far more technically complex to install and operate.  The satellite phone is as simple to use as a terrestrial cell phone.
• SSB transceivers (transmit & receive) are very expensive, probably $3000 for a new unit with installation.  Handheld satellite phones are available for under $1000.
• SSB is free to operate, while the satellite airtime costs upwards of $1/min.
• An SSB radio can receive synoptic weather charts that are faxed from various met offices around the world.  A computer or dedicated weatherfax machine are required.  The satellite phone could receive the same information electronically via email.
• Satellite phones can send and receive text messages.  Texts can typically be sent to the phone for free from the provider’s website.
• Both can transmit and receive data.  The SSB requires an expensive Pactor modem to communicate with shoreside radio stations for sending and receiving email.  A satellite phone works like an old-school dialup computer modem, effectively putting you directly on the Internet.  Both are very slow and greatly benefit from services that filter and compress email messages.
• It is technically possible to get higher data speeds and always-on access from a satellite system, but the equipment is very expensive and then the bandwidth pricing is about $10/MB.  Maybe someday.
• Both are susceptible to atmospheric weather, but SSB moreso.  Both would likely be useless in the event of a major disruption like a volcanic eruption or solar storm.  

So which to choose?  The scenarios we envision using long-distance communication (in order of priority) are:

• Emergency calls.  Getting shore-side medical advice or communicating with Search and Rescue agencies.  Advantage: satellite.
• Email.  Staying in touch with work, friends, and family from remote areas.  Advantage: satellite.
• Weather data.  Getting forecasts and data from electronic sources.  Advantage: satellite.
• Weather forecasts.  Receiving voice broadcasts, specifically from Chris Parker for the Bahamas and Caribbean regions.  Advantage: SSB.
• Routine calls.  Making regular phone calls for any purpose.  Advantage: satellite.
• Keeping in touch with other boats.  Advantage: SSB.

Clearly we can see a use for both SSB and satellite.  Satellite receives the priority, and as the simplest to use, is almost a no-brainer.  Most of the proponents of the SSB appear to be older, more traditional cruisers, who put the investment into radio back when that was the only choice.  

A previous owner of Take Two made the SSB investment.  The radio itself was gone by the time we took possession of her, but the hardest parts of the installation are done.  She has an insulated backstay for an antenna, and a submerged ground plate for a counterpoise.  Getting good RF on boats is a lot like voodoo, but it looks like we should be able to get a pretty clean signal.

Taking all of the above into consideration, a used ICOM 710 and AT-130 tuner to complete our SSB installation seemed like a good idea.  We’re having some new cables made up, so we haven’t installed it yet, but we’re pretty excited just to have it.  Replacing the SSB has been on the “someday” list for a long time and crossing it off will give us a feeling of progress.

A satellite phone is still high on the list.  The major decision points there are choosing a provider and a plan.  That will be the subject of another post.

We met Adam in the Bahamas this past winter.  He’s younger, probably mid-twenties, and looks very much at home there.  We’re often asked by older cruisers how we’re able to live this way.  We asked Adam.

He runs crewed charters on his St Francis 44, Rubicon, taking paying guests aboard for weeks at a time.  We see crewed charter boats a lot, but never before with such a young captain.  He caters to a more active clientele, and is probably the source of the kitesurfers that are often buzzing around Elizabeth Harbor on windy days.

We learned that Adam was a cruising kid and sailed around the world with his family.  He looks at home in the Bahamas because he is.  He practically grew up there.  

When someone on an internet forum was looking for a charter captain in the Bahamas, I suggested they contact Adam.  I didn’t expect to hear anything else about it, but then recently received this:
"Your suggestion was excellent. We just returned from a 10 day sail with Adam and had a great experience. He is mechanically astute, a great sailor and a perfect addition to our group. He's now a good friend whom we will see again.  Thanks."  I was strangely pleased, and not just at having provided good advice.

We don’t know what our kids will do with their lives, what skills they will develop, or what loves they will pursue.  We expect them to be different, though.  We’d be proud if any of them turned out like Adam.