Daysail

by on in Recipes

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.

Magic Genie

by on in Recipes

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.

Motorhead

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.

All Kinds of Crazy

by on in General

One of our favorite films for family movie night is Astronaut Farmer. It stars Billy-Bob Thornton as a middle-aged wanna-be astronaut who left NASA and settled for running his father’s farm instead of fulfilling a lifelong dream of going into space. He hasn’t given up on the dream, though, and all hell breaks loose when he tries to buy rocket fuel for a spacecraft he built in his barn. We love the movie because it is about a family with a dream—the grandfather applauds the main character, saying, “Most families don’t even eat dinner together—you’ve got yours dreaming together.” His wife, Audi, stays by him through thick and thin—even supporting his pulling the kids out of school for a month to join his “space program”— at one point when he wants to give up she reminds him that without the rocket they are just an ordinary dysfunctional family.

We get email from all sorts of people—those with boats and without, those who home-school or home-stead and those who live “conventional” lives. Our sharing our adventures, while nautical in nature, isn’t really about going sailing, but about following a dream. We never would say, “you should buy a boat and do what we’re doing” or “everyone should homeschool their kids,” but we might say, “everyone should follow after a dream.” It doesn’t really matter what flavor the dream takes on, as long as you are really living your life and making all the small decisions that are necessary to move toward a goal, so that when opportunity knocks, you’re ready to answer “Yes!”

We are not, by a long-shot, the only family with young children who want to sail off into the blue, but we are in a relatively small group of people with that dream. For some, that dream seems crazy, but we have discovered in our group of friends that there are lots of other kinds of crazy. For example, a good friend of mine and her husband swerved off a lucrative career path to help run an orphanage in Honduras. They are on the cutting edge of widow and orphan care—pursuing something they are really passionate about, and making all the sacrifices that come along with being involved in philanthropy. (You can find them at www.providenceworldministries.org).

Another friend (www.mrshomeschool.com/blog ) who left recently to go live in Costa Rica with her husband and children, runs a web-based business and wanted to travel with her children. I know their families did not understand how they could just up-and-go, but they wanted to give their home-schooled children a real-world education with experiences outside their own culture.

My brother and his wife (www.brikcrate.com) have a small working farm just outside city limits, complete with goats, chickens, gardening and a wood shop. They run two businesses and have six children that they home-school. They are trying their hand at home-steading—a dream that seems less and less crazy as times and financial markets provide less stability.

Last year in the keys, we met a family with ten children, some of whom formed a band and went on tour—they play gigs like Sloppy Joe’s in Key West and are spectacularly talented and loads of fun to listen to (www.thedoerfels.com). What on earth led them to live on the road for part of the year is beyond me, but what do I know? I live on a boat with five kids.

We have good friends who are missionaries in Thailand and just moved to downtown Bangkok, others who manage state parks whose children have grown up in beautiful natural settings and have been schooled in the great outdoors, and still others who participate in civil war battle re-enactments and become a part of living history. What these families all have in common, besides Big Dreams, and, strangely, having lots of kids, is the willingness to take the necessary risks associated with leaving the common life. There is no financial security in dream-chasing. Some have traded retirement later for an adventure now. They don’t care what other people say—they can’t let someone else’s expectations keep them from pursuing an exciting and meaningful life. So, whatever kind of thing floats your boat—we encourage you to find it and chase after it. Do it or die trying because it’s worth it. Life is good, but it is fleeting and fragile.

Irene in the Bahamas

by on in Recipes

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.

Junior Sailors

by on in General

My oldest son took me sailing today, for a change. For the last ten years, I have taken him traipsing everywhere I went—museums, parks, stores, libraries, beaches, marinas, laundromats, zoos—you name it.  His brother, a mere thirteen months younger, was not far behind.

But today, for the first time, he took me. He didn’t’ take me far—just a quick trip away from the beach and back in a small sailboat, but it was a turning point in our relationship just the same. I am excited about the way our relationship is changing, even when we experience growing pains like sarcasm or stubbornness. He has the subtle wit of his father, and the poetic sensibility of his mother. Our interactions are reaching new levels and we are beginning to glimpse what he will be like as an adult. He will be a full-fledged crew member in just a few short years. I am very proud of him.

Aaron, too, is showing signs of growing independence. Today marked the last day of summer sailing camp, and family members were invited to come along as passengers with a junior sailor. I had the pleasure of watching Aaron show Sam the ropes as he competently took him out on the water in a pram for the first time.

Sailing camp was a success on many fronts. We are happy that the boys and Sarah had the opportunity to learn basic sailing skills in beginning and intermediate classes. Their understanding of wind and sail will be intuitive—something I envy. Additionally, they are building confidence and a love of the water, something that will make them even better crew for Take Two.

High Frequency

by on in Recipes

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.

Tied Down

by on in General

I’m getting antsy. Having become accustomed to freedom and constant change, I’m feeling a bit stagnant in this marina slip. I’m no longer afraid of getting sucked into a land life and not leaving. Now I’m positive I will want to go out there again when the time is right. Heck, I want to go right now.

There are some impediments to our heading out into the great blue yonder at this very moment, though, so, as usual, I need to cool my jets and practice patience. Aside from a few minor things, there’s nothing keeping us from day trips or even an over-nighter. The weather in August in Florida is not very conducive to sailing away. Heat and hurricanes aside, there just isn’t that much wind on the Florida gulf-coast when the water temperature and air temperature are so close. It’s great weather for anchoring and swimming, though, so I’m looking forward to that.

As for a date of departure, that may be awhile. We have checked a few substantial things off the list we made at the beginning of the year: have a baby (check), repair structural damage to boat (check), pay exorbitant tax bill (check), renovate interior of boat (check), buy washer/dryer (check). So now Jay’s out with his nose to the grindstone, working to replenish the cruising kitty. When the time comes, we’ll have to decide whether to use that money to do a few more things on our list or to travel and put the projects on the back burner. It’s hard to stop when you’ve got momentum and the boat is looking so good—and when you find local workmen who are skilled and dependable.

On the flip side, many things that we want to change we have learned to live with, and we could manage another season without fixing them. If it comes down to buying a heater so we can survive a Florida winter or using the money to head South, I will vote for the latter.

One thing affecting a DOD is Jay’s work. One must make hay while the sun shines and that may mean working for six months or a year so that we can save up to travel again. Another question that has an impact on our plans is when will we be ready to travel with Rachel? If I’m trying to nurse a baby, homeschool the kids, wash diapers, feed everyone, and keep house, what kind of a first mate am I going to be? Do we need to take on crew? If the answer is yes to crew, then we’re back to the projects question because we’d need to make a habitable space for an extra person.

The answers to the questions “when/where are we going next?” are veiled in mystery, and until we have done the day-in-day-out for a while, we aren’t going to know. That means my planning and implementing our next year of homeschool and taking care of things on the home-front without complaining. But I miss the blue water, the unimpeded sunset, and the clear starry skies at night.  I feel the lines chafing and I just can’t wait to see what the next journey will be like.

FAQ: How do you protect your kids from the sun?

by on in Frequently Asked Questions

In a word: we don’t. We actually like the sun and don’t view it as an enemy, but a friend. But too much of a good thing is still too much, so we expose ourselves to it in appropriate amounts.

Now for the long answer.

We get questions like this all the time—especially now that we have a small human with soft and delicate skin. People ask: Do we slather her several times a day? What about at the pool or the beach? Do the other kids burn easily? The answer to all three of those questions is no. We are fortunate in that our genetic recipe for children includes “lovely golden complexion.” Even the child with the fairest hair and eyes turns a beautiful golden brown in the sun. The children have never burned in their lives aside from the occasional pink nose when someone forgot to wear his or her hat. Even Rachel, with her pearly pink baby skin is getting a little baby tan.

Cancer is no joking matter—but we have come to the conclusion that safe sun exposure does not cause skin cancer any more than healthy food causes allergies. I’m sure I’m opening a can of worms here, but we do not believe in slathering our kids with the chemicals in sunscreen any more than we would feed them something we can’t pronounce. The two topics are inextricably linked in my mind: we try not to put anything un-natural or over-processed on or in our bodies.

The skin is the body’s largest organ. It is the first line of defense against all sorts of toxins and micro-organisms. We avoid anti-bacterial soaps and don’t scrub the kids down very often intentionally: they need good critters on their skin to fight malicious microbes. The skin is also the body’s main mechanism for collecting light, which it somehow miraculously turns into Vitamin D, which is integral to staying healthy. That means safe sun exposure every day, not sun avoidance. And, of course, skin is permeable—which means if you can’t ingest it, don’t put it on your skin!

We believe we were put on planet Earth (or evolved here, if that’s your style) under the rays of the sun, and that we actually need its light and heat to thrive. Of course, depending on your ancestry and where you now live, you may be more or less susceptible to getting too much sun. This is easily combatted by getting a tan very slowly, so you can prevent skin-damaging burns, and by wearing hats and clothes. It’s a sensible approach, and unless we’re going to be out all day where there is no shade, we don’t use sunscreens at all. When we do, we use all-natural products like Burt’s Bees.

The problem with sunscreens is chiefly that the cosmetics industry is self-policing and is not tightly regulated by the FDA (and even if it were, I’d be wary). That’s like the fox guarding the henhouse. If you start researching some of the ingredients in your sunscreen (yes, even the kind for babies), you will find all sorts of frightening facts that will probably turn you into a health-nut like me. Next thing you know, your kids will be wearing SPF clothing and eating home-made bread. Come to think of it, that’s actually not such a bad thing.


Note: Great information on the importance of vitamin D and safe sun exposure as well as cancer prevention can be found at www.Mercola.com and you can check the toxicity of your favorite sunscreens at the Environmental Working Group’s site: www.ewg.org/skindeep/

Hammock

by on in General

I have always had a love affair with hammocks. Something about the easy way that they hang invites one to really relax. My parents always had one strung between two trees in the yard or two posts on our back porch—I even slept outside one night, imagining what sailors of old felt like swinging in the dark below-decks. I have happy memories of a certain hammock strung between palm trees in the Florida Keys from a girlhood vacation. Then there was the hammock that hung from Georgia pine trees in the backyard of our first house—I sat with my babies in that hammock and spent many happy hours snuggling and snoozing. So it was with nostalgia and admiration that I sat this past winter in the Bahamas in a hammock chair swinging from a Casuarina tree on Volleyball Beach on Stocking Island. It was a beautiful hammock with a beautiful view.

One day as I sat there chatting with some young folks who had pulled up in their dinghy, I learned that the maker of the hammock was a young woman named Snow, and that she was staying on a sailboat in the anchorage. Later I met Snow and complimented her handiwork. She has a company called The Sailor’s Bed and works in a coastal North Carolina town making and selling her hammocks. It was perfectly logical, then, to order one of her hand-made hammocks to string between the supports of our arch and “hang out” in the breeze above the water.

Sailor's Bed 

The hammock is everything I had hoped for—a relaxing place to sip a glass of wine while the sun sets, or to read and rest on a weekend morning. It is like a little oasis in the middle of the very busy, very noisy household of which I am a part, a one-hour vacation getaway. The joy I get from that hammock is augmented by the fact that I met the weaver—that she, like me, loves sand and sun and water and boats. Like everything else about our lifestyle, so much of what we enjoy has to do with the who and not just the what.

Adam

by on in Recipes

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.