Fire

by on in Recipes

The boat directly across from us on the next dock caught fire a couple weeks ago.  We didn’t notice until the fire trucks arrived.  

The fire department keeps a little rescue boat on that dock, and we’d previously seen them rush down and launch it.  We thought that’s what they were going to do when they rolled up this time, but they started unloading hoses instead.  

The kids saw the smoke immediately.  Within a minute we could see flames.  I was too busy watching to get a more dramatic picture.

[flickr: 5970624647]

Fire is the last thing you want on a boat.  They burn fast.  They’re loaded with flammable stuff.  The fumes are toxic.  Even a small fire can damage a boat beyond repair.  Left alone, they burn to the waterline and sink.  That’s the end for the boat, but maybe not the fire.  In a marina the fire can spread.  Maybe there’s a burning fuel slick.  Maybe the docks are made of wood.  Maybe the mast falls on another boat.  Maybe the boat burns through its lines and comes adrift.  Maybe it explodes.

The firefighters unleashed torrents of water on the burning boat.  The fire was coming from down below so they had to get aboard to spray water inside.  The boat’s bilge pump was running non-stop and she was listing visibly.  It took a lot of water to put the fire out.

A man lived on that boat.  His grandson was visiting for the summer.  The man was at work and the kid was aboard watching TV when he smelled smoke.  He got off the boat and called the fire department.  We don’t know how long it was before the trucks arrived, but we assume that the early call saved the boat; “saved” being a relative term, because the insurance company totaled it.  But it didn’t sink, and the fire didn’t spread.

What if the kid hadn’t called?  Add five minutes to that fire and it would have been a totally different situation.  He may have saved more than one boat.  He may have saved ours.

Watching the firefighters crawl around on the burning, listing boat gave me a very bad feeling.  I wasn’t sure if they knew the potential danger.  I recall thinking that I wouldn’t be doing that. 

Boats have things houses don’t: fuel tanks, batteries, flares, propane.  Did they know?  I assume that departments in coastal areas must train for boat fires, but various boats can greatly differ.  Could I walk onto any random boat and locate those items?  Could anyone do that on ours?

Up to this point, we haven’t worried too much about fire safety.  The concern I do have is more for the boat and our home than for ourselves.  I’m confident that anyone over the age of two could escape any conceivable fire scenario.  In that regard the boat is better than most houses.  

If there were a fire, we’d have a small window of opportunity to put it out quickly.  Some sources claim there are only about 30 seconds before heat and smoke force you out.  To that end, we have handheld fire extinguishers placed around the boat.  We have a fire blanket in the galley.  We have automatic halon systems near the engines, inverters, and the generator.  We have a high capacity washdown pump with a 50’ hose.  If that didn’t do it, there wouldn’t be much choice but to stand back and watch her burn.  

The cause of this fire was electrical.  We’ve had our own electrical problems.  We were lucky because a breaker tripped.  Corrosion.  It increases resistance and therefore heat.  Breakers and fuses are sized for the capacity of a wire to carry current without melting, but they have no idea if that wire is corroded or badly connected.  Once the insulation melted, the hot wire found a dead short which blew the breaker and our fire was over before it started.  Must not have happened in this case.

Shutting off the power is obviously the first thing that needs to happen for an electrical fire.  The firefighters unplugged the boat’s shore power cord immediately, but that’s not enough.  Batteries are perfectly capable of starting a fire.  Typically, battery-connected circuits don’t demand enough current to start a fire unless there is a short, and a fuse would put an end to that.  Every wire should have a fuse or breaker on the end nearest the source.  Of course, “should” is often not reality.

Batteries should have disconnect switches.  Our switches are not very accessible, but that was intentional.  They used to be too accessible and the batteries could get turned off accidentally.  Our battery bank is split on either side of the boat, so there is no getting to the switches quickly anyway.  I was already planning to install a single button to control remotely operated battery switches.  It will be located right next to the AC transfer switch.  That will allow a person to quickly disconnect all power from a central location.  

It took the firefighters a long to time to find the boat’s batteries.  We could tell by the steady output from the electric bilge pump.  It had gotten much of the water out, and the boat was listing less.  She was still steaming, but the firefighters were satisfied that the fire was out.  They collected their gear and left.  

They had tried to contact the owner at work, but were unsuccessful.  Hopefully he received their messages and was somewhat warned before he returned home to his smoking wreck.  The reek of burned plastic could still be smelled a hundred yards away for days afterward.

Upon reflection, I really don’t think there is much additional fire preparation that is worth doing.  Take Two is about as well-protected as I think she practically can be.  Perhaps an extra smoke detector near the inverters would be a good idea.  There’s still some dodgy wiring that needs to be redone (and will be).  But everything has to be put in proper perspective.  The wiring could be perfect and a lightning strike could still start a fire.  All our preparations would be for naught if we’re not aboard to employ them.  And even the fire department can only do so much.

Update

I've learned that an automatic fire suppression system shouldn't be used in a diesel engine room without pairing it to an automatic shutdown.  1) The engine keeps running, 2) the chemicals can damage the engine, and 3) the running engine sucks out any gas (halon) before it can put out the fire.

Homeschool Lessons

by on in Lessons Learned

Summer school is in session, and here, in brief, are some of the lessons learned recently—not only, I might add, by the children, but the adults as well.

#1: Sailing is fun when the wind is blowing and you’ve got a small boat all to yourself. The three older kids did sailing school in Optimist Prams at the Bradenton Yacht Club for a couple of weeks this summer. The weather was mostly un-cooperative, but there were a few good days and, as Eli said, “It was excellent.”

#2: “You are not Gumby.” These words came out of the smart mouth of my nine-year-old son, and they couldn’t have been truer. When he was four—the magical age when the line between fantasy and reality is perilously thin—he had run full speed ahead into a solid wall, hoping, like Gumby, to pass right through. We had a good chuckle as we explained to him that he was not made of clay. I had just finished saying that I was “hitting a wall” around four o’clock each day and I didn’t know what to do about it when I got my advice thrown back at me. This time the joke was on me—I think I’ve been trying to do too much. I did just have a baby…so we’ve gone back to basics and I’m doing better.

#3: Snorkeling for starfish is more fun than writing about them. The kids are finishing up science for the year by writing a book on natural history of the Bahamas. This is our summer project, and they are finding a daily writing regimen to be a bit challenging. I am pleased with the results, however, as they are using complex sentence structure and high-school vocabulary—without being prompted. We may educate these children yet.

#4: It’s hard to be grumpy when there’s a cute baby smiling at you. We all feel happy when Rachel is cooing and smiling at us. She’s the center of our lives at the moment.

#5 Knives are sharp and should not be played with. Sam’s bleeding thumb taught him this lesson after he picked up Aaron’s pocket-knife from where I had put it after taking it away from him during school. Hopefully he won’t have to learn that one twice.

#6 You don't have to catch anything to have fun fishing. Jay took the kids in two dinghies (older boys in one, Jay and Sarah and Sam in the other) for a little afternoon fishing expedition. Sam can successfully cast and reel using a spinning reel now, and Sarah caught a little lady fish. Everyone came home beaming, but empty-handed. That’s why it’s called “fishing” and not “catching.” Maybe someday we’ll get good at it, but at least we’re having fun, and bait isn’t too pricey.

#7 Love is not crabby. Sam came home with a craft he had made at his friend’s Vacation Bible School (it was bring-a-friend day). It was a felt crab holding onto a seashell that said, “Love is not crabby.” Oh, why didn’t I read that message earlier in the day? It was a lesson I needed with Jay out working and me trying to take care of the needs of five children. Just a little more tenderness would do me good. I guess we all have something left to learn. There’s no school like the home-school!

New Catwalk

by on in Recipes

No posts in awhile, but we’re making steady progress here on Take Two.  The latest finished project is the installation of our new catwalk.  The last one, you may recall, exploded under the strain of waves we took over the bow in boisterous conditions.  I didn’t share these pictures before because the wounds were too fresh.

[flickr: 5908795808]

Can you spot what's missing in that picture?  Apparently the weave of our trampoline nets is too close and doesn’t allow water to drain through fast enough for the amount that was landing on them.  The weather was on our starboard side, and the weight of the water coming over the starboard bow and onto the net caused the bottom and starboard side of the catwalk to separate.

The old catwalk was essentially a box, hardwood sides and ends, plywood top and bottom, painted on the outside and epoxied on the inside, with a teak surface laid on top.  Despite being hollow inside, the thing was heavy, which I didn’t fully realize until trying to haul it out of the water.  And despite the paint and epoxy, there was some rot in the top along the starboard side.  This rot undoubtedly contributed to the old catwalk’s failure.

[flickr: 5908238475]

Although the catwalk broke, the laces attaching it to the trampoline net did not.  The broken sections fell in the water and were dragged under the boat, becoming a bludgeon that pounded our underside.  I have no idea how much time passed between when the catwalk broke and we discovered it.  It is a good indication of just how much noise there is in a storm that we couldn’t hear the punishment we were receiving below.

[flickr: 5908238919]

It's hard to get a good picture down there that really shows the damage.  I've taken many, but chose to go with one that had pretty water.  If you can see it, none of that damage is serious and most of it just needs to be faired and painted.  The paint color under the bridgedeck is interesting.  Originally it was a cream color, like the decks.  They painted over the cream with a dayglo orange.  Apparently someone was concerned about the boat laying upside down in the middle of an ocean.  Over the orange, they painted red.  Unfortunately the orange didn't stick very well, which might have been the reason for the red, but it didn't really work.  The whole thing needs to be repainted, which will not be a fun job.  Cosmetic items are pretty low on our priority list and nobody even sees that area.

But the catwalk was a high priority.  The catwalk’s primary purpose is to resist compression between the forward crossbeam and the bridgedeck.  The mast pulls up and aft on the crossbeam.  The pelican striker opposes the upward pull, and the catwalk opposes the aft pull.  So it is structural from the designer's standpoint.  The secondary function is a solid platform to walk on when dealing with the anchor.  Operating the boat is tricky without it, so replacing the catwalk was a "must" before we start using the boat again.

[flickr: 5908792536]

Whenever something fails on Take Two, we see it as an opportunity to make the thing better, and the new catwalk was designed to correct the flaws of the previous one.  It has solid sides and ends like the old catwalk, but there are several cross members mortise and tenoned into the sides, strengthening it in the dimension that the old one broke.  Thin slats rest on these cross members to make the top.  There is no bottom.  It weighs maybe 25 pounds, while the old one was probably around 75.  Extra weight on the bow can be put to better use in a larger anchor.

The open bottom means there are no hidden places where rot and weakness can fester.  It also allows the slatted top, which is good for washing off the muck and weed that often comes up on the chain.  Both reduce weight.  But the slats are thin and not strong enough without additional support.  The cross members provide this support, and also help resist side loads from the nets.  We don’t have a chain stopper and couldn't figure out how to do it before.  If we wanted to add one now it could be bolted through one of those cross members.

[flickr: 5908795364]

Teak was chosen for its rot resistance and light weight.  We generally do not like teak on our boat, as we have no desire to maintain it.  However, we did not mind the raw teak surface on the old catwalk and felt it stood up well to the anchor chain running over it.  We briefly considered fiberglass but decided that was a loser on cost, weight, and resisting abrasion from the chain.  

Like most projects, the new catwalk opened the door for making other changes, and we were never quite satisfied with the way the trampoline nets were attached.  They used to be double laced through stamped eyestraps screwed into the catwalk and rest of the boat.  We had repeated problems with chafe on the lacing lines which required us to replace them about twice a year.  And the eyestraps sawing through the lacing was very loud inside the boat; like a big violin.  

[flickr: 5908791004]

We contacted Sunrise Yacht Products, the company that made our nets, and they recommended a perpendicular lacing pattern which allows less movement, and a track and slide attachment to the boat instead of the eyestraps.  They sell track, slides, and lacing for this purpose.

The track appears to be specially made and I could find no other source for it.  It is like awning track, but has a much heavier wall thickness.  It comes in two different extrusions for attachment to surfaces perpendicular or parallel to the load.  The slides are made by Bainbridge and can be found cheaper online, but Sunrise customizes them by bending the bail to keep the laces centered.  The line they sell for laces is a ¼” polyester double-braid.  

[flickr: 5908236617]

We found we could get much better tension on the nets with the new lacing pattern, and we’re very pleased with how the new arrangement looks and feels.  Unfortunately the teak won’t remain bright and pretty for long.  It will weather to a dull gray color unless we maintain it, which we won’t.

The nets themselves were undamaged in our little incident, and are possibly indestructible.  Despite the drainage problem, we really like them and we’re not planning to replace them anytime soon.  We will however try to avoid dumping that much water on them again.  If necessary, I’ll cut the laces next time rather than risk damage.

Happy Father’s Day

by on in General

While I am certainly grateful to the dads in our family for raising Jay and me to be independent, contributing members of society, I would like to use this time to say what a great dad Jay has become to our children. We've been doing this parenting thing for about ten years now, and both of us have grown a lot during that time. Jay has always been the gentler of the two of us, and it is one of my secret joys to see him with a baby. He prefers spending time with the talking and walking kids, and with those he is wonderful, too. Aaron summed up how they feel about him this week while their dad was working in Boston: "I look up to Dad, and it's not just because he's tall." I guess that's how I feel, too–Happy father's Day, Jay, and keep up the good work.

Splendide Indeed

by on in Product Review

After having used the Italian-made Splendide marine washer/dryer for about a month now, I feel comfortable offering praise for it and have only a few reservations. First, some recommendations—if you’re in the market for a washer/dryer unit on your boat, the Splendide does live up to its name, presuming you get the vented model (the un-vented one leaves clothing feeling damp), and have budgeted for power and water usage, and have it plumbed to dump the gray water directly overboard. Jay had initially hooked it up so it drained into the bilge (for convenient installation), but that didn’t work and he had to come up with a better solution.

The Splendide appears to be very energy efficient and uses water conservatively. It takes very little soap. It gets clothing cleaner than I could ever do by hand and does a great job on Rachel’s diapers, provided I run a rinse/spin cycle before washing. It is easy to use once you figure out their system (I have a cycle description cheat sheet), and it is extremely quiet.  The load size is significantly smaller than a normal household machine, but then so were the loads I would stuff into the Wonder Wash. This thing makes life on Take Two so much easier. At the dock, I’m no longer tied to the laundry room all day and on the hook I will not have to wash clothes by hand, though we will probably use the lifelines instead of the machine to dry them.

The small reservations I have revolve around my not knowing how it will behave once we are “off the grid.” Will we have to run the generator while it’s washing? Will the water pumps supply the water it wants? How much more water will we be using than before (or how much less)? My one tiny complaint is that it’s hard to do sheets and towels because they are inherently larger loads. Also, it takes a really long time to do its job, so running more than one or two loads a day isn’t really feasible. Aside from these concerns, I am completely satisfied and regularly thank Jay for installing it—I know I’m not supposed to love an inanimate object, but this thing really is my new best friend.

From the Archives: Free Range Kids

by on in General

Some poor misguided person called me “laid back” today. She was watching my kids play in the pool and commented about how relaxed I seemed, considering that my four-year-old daredevil did a flip a little too close to the edge (he was summarily scolded and given a time out). Truth be told, I am one of the most high-strung, perfectionistic, controlling people I know. My poor children will be lucky to survive my over-achiever approach to mothering and home-schooling. That’s the truth.

Perhaps what she saw as “laid back” was actually an intentional stifling of my natural instinct to protect at all costs. I realize that children cannot grow up unless you give them some space in which to do so, but giving them that space requires a willingness to look the other way when they are doing something risky. I stop things that are downright dangerous or disobedient, but probably allow a lot more than most parents these days. This discussion reminds me of an old blog entry I wrote but never posted. And so I give you, from the archives, my two cents’ worth on parenting.

Free Range Kids (July 31, 2010)

Lenore Skenazy, the New York Sun columnist who coined the phrase “free range kids,” allowed her 9-year-old son to find his way home from the city on the subway, and then wrote about it. Her column sparked a controversy that deeply divided two camps: those who said “you should go to jail” and those who countered “you should receive a medal.” I’ll give you one chance to guess which response we choose.

The controversy hints at an important underlying question: is the world inherently more dangerous now than it was a couple of generations ago, when children were sent out in the morning and called in for supper? Or are parents just more neurotic than they used to be? Even when I was a kid in the 70s, we walked to school, the older children looking after the younger ones, and kids were allowed to roam in the woods and in their neighborhoods, largely unsupervised and parents didn’t worry the way they do now. An older person I know said he thought that the world was more dangerous—child molesters at one time were locked up for life, or were put to death, so maybe there are more of those types running around, imaginations fueled by internet filth. Of course, parents can now look at an online database and find out where the registered sex offenders live, so maybe an increase in information sharing makes us more paranoid, too. I realize that this is only one of the many dangers that threaten children, but whether they face more of them or we are more protective (or both), children in our demographic are raised differently now than they were—their lives are more scheduled and they enjoy less free time to explore and discover their own limitations. Or worse, they are so badly spoiled that their potential is lost or wasted.

My oldest son, Eli, went with my brother and his kids to a cousin’s baseball game not too long ago. Preoccupied with the game, my brother didn’t realize that the crowd that was gathering under the lamp post was staring at his nephew, who had shinnied to the top, the way he does a coconut palm or the mast of our boat. I probably should have scolded him, but actually I felt rather proud of his climbing prowess. People are always surprised and often dismayed by what our children can do. When Sam, our youngest son, was 2, he would dive for coins in the swimming pool at our marina. Inevitably, someone always freaked out and thought a baby was drowning. They looked at me incredulously when I reassured them that my toddler was just fine—then he would come up with a handful of nickels and pennies. Our daughter Sarah has many times shocked folks in an anchorage with her aerial acrobatics wearing a climbing harness to swing around the rigging.  Aaron, our second son, rebuilt a carburetor on an outboard motor at 7, and got his Florida boater’s license at 8, which makes him independent in the dinghy. I mention these things not to boast about the children, because I don’t think they are unusually gifted, though I do admire them. I think they are doing what all children would do if they were allowed the time and freedom to explore their interests and try daring deeds.

[flickr: 5399744648]

Without the hindrances of tyrannical school and sports schedules, TV, video games, iPods or other gadgets, our children have been allowed to pursue various activities, to be bored occasionally and have to use their imaginations to entertain themselves, and to try stunts that make onlookers gasp. They have, in short, been allowed to find out for themselves what it is they’re made of. That used to be one of the main goals of child-rearing, but it seems that quality is now rare. What we do have in abundance now is the “helicopter” parent, who hovers at the periphery waiting to zoom in and help solve whatever problem they see, real or imaginary.

Busy parents have traded good training for micro-managing. Ironically, we are very protective of our kids (some would argue over-protective)—we guard closely what they eat, who they play with, what they learn, and what they watch, things which affect their health and character development. We set high standards, scold, spank, and offer rewards for good behavior, although those things are considered old-fashioned. Based on children that we observe in public, we think most parents have gone to one of two extremes: allowing too much freedom and not enough guidance, or providing so much guidance that their children feel smothered. What results is children who rebel: either to get the attention they desire from permissive parents, or to get the freedom they need from overbearing ones. Ideally, we’d all find that delicate balance between making children safer through rules and training and still leaving them some wiggle-room to test themselves and grow.

What we want for our children is for them to have a realistic picture of both the dangers and joys of life; smothered kids are neither prepared to face evil nor are they able to appreciate true freedom, and spoiled kids use their unlimited freedom to harm themselves and others. We also want our kids to know themselves and waste as few years of their short lives as possible trying to figure out what they want to do with their time on planet Earth. We want them to actually grow up—take risks and fall flat on their faces, get up again and learn from the experience—to become interesting and skilled and independent. We want them to have earned enough confidence that they will someday follow their dreams. Living the way we do is conducive to achieving these goals, though we recognize that there are no guarantees and it will be years before we see the fruit of our labors. In fact, it will take nothing short of a miracle—and fortunately, we still believe in those.

Kiwi Update

by on in Lessons Learned

Our Kiwi friends left here bound for Mexico on the first leg of their trip back to New Zealand.  

They left behind a general sense that neither boat nor crew was ready for the trip, having struggled just to get to the fuel dock.  We saw them off without misgivings though, believing that the first 50 feet of a trip are always the hardest, fate protects the young during such misadventures, and no amount of preparation is really enough.  

We expected it to take them four days to reach Mexico, and though we did not extract any promises, we expected blog updates on arrival.  But the updates never came and by Day 10 we were worried.  We knew they had a satellite phone, EPIRB, and life raft, and we knew the US Coast Guard did not rescue them.  So we figured they must have diverted somewhere that didn’t have Internet access.

Eventually we got wind that they were back in Florida.  One of the crew had experienced seasickness to a dangerous degree, which combined with a realistic evaluation of themselves and the boat, put the kibosh on the whole trip.  They instead turned for Key West to rest and then continued on to West Palm Beach to put the boat aboard a yacht transport bound for New Zealand.

We share their disappointment, but also their relief.  We also recognize their story as an anecdote for several lessons we’ve learned one way or another.

Communication is important.  We haven’t had a lot of experience worrying about the whereabouts or welfare of other people, but haven’t found those times very pleasant.  As travelers ourselves, we make an effort to let our plans and location be known.  For longer passages we file a float plan with my father, who is the emergency contact registered on our EPIRB.  We also carry the SPOT satellite tracker, which shows our position when underway.  On future trips we will probably also carry a satellite phone.

Plans should be constantly re-evaluated.  We’ve had to relearn this a few times, usually after we’ve seriously screwed up.  Better to change the plan than push a bad situation and risk the consequences.  We crossed a poorly charted bar in bad conditions once.  It was stupid and had the potential to really damage the boat.  We escaped because we were lucky.  We’re now extra careful about plans that have us arriving at a pass or bar in unknown conditions.  If there is any doubt, we change the plans and feel good about it.  We don’t know if it has actually saved us any grief.  We weren’t there.

Don’t underestimate the Gulf of Mexico.  The Gulf is notorious for steep, tightly packed waves that are hard on boats and crews.  The first leg to Mexico was possibly the hardest of the whole trip.

Seasickness can be serious.  The misery of seasickness is difficult to describe, but usually that’s all it is.  It usually lasts for a day or so, during which the intrepid sailor swears to quit and take up gardening.  Occasionally, though, it can be so intense and prolonged that the sufferer can dehydrate and die.  In our case, even a mild case can have serious consequences since we can’t afford to have the skipper incapacitated or his judgment dulled.  Unfortunately, there is no surefire cure, and the most effective defense is prescription medication, which we normally try to avoid.

We probably would have supported any decision the Kiwis’ made, but think aborting their trip (for this year at least) was wise.  Rather than transport the boat, we would have suggested keeping the boat in Florida and trying again next year, but admit our advice is somewhat selfishly motivated since we enjoy their company.  We don’t know all the factors that went into the decision, but we do know the cost of transporting a boat is phenomenal.  Apparently the boat market is such in New Zealand that buying here was still economical.

Best Baby Gear for a Boat, Part I

by on in Product Review

I’ve been a mom for almost ten years now, and have familiarity with—and sometimes intimate knowledge of—a lot of baby gear. Much of it, I have come to realize, is extraneous and some borderline ridiculous.  As we have streamlined our lives I have had to reassess things I thought were “needs” and re-categorize them as “wants.” Need, I used to tell my kindergarten students, involves dying if you don’t get it. For a newborn, needs are relatively few: they need food, a safe place to sleep, a safe/easy way to travel, a clean diaper, and someone to cuddle with.

Big Brother

Our baby is lucky—she has six people to cuddle with, so we can check that one off the list. (I do, however, highly recommend getting a seven year old girl if you have a newborn around as they are very helpful. Sarah has some cuddle time every morning with Rachel while I am making breakfast.)¬ As we are firm believers that “breast is best,” we can check food off the list, too. I will note that my favorite nursing bras are the Bravado bras ($30) and that a Boppy pillow ($30), though not necessary, does come in handy. Where to put it on a boat is another question entirely.

Rachel, 3 months

As for a safe place to sleep, we have had a crib built into a single berth in one of the hulls, but for the first weeks aboard, Rachel has been sleeping in our berth, at the foot of our bed in a straw “Moses” basket that was woven for her in the Bahamas.  We love the basket, but it has limited usefulness because babies grow so fast—by the time she is five months old, she’ll be too big and also able to roll out of it. On the other hand, having a mobile bed is great—she has taken several naps in the shade up by the pool, and in the cockpit. It sure beats a large and unwieldy playpen/folding crib like the Pack n’ Play that we used for the other children. I can recommend a basket ($40-$80), but it will have to be stored somewhere after it has become obsolete. The crib, incidentally, is perfect and we are really happy—it will break down easily for access to the compartments underneath, and the end of the crib is removable to make the sleeping space available for a toddler or larger child.

Nursery

For safe and easy travel, I can recommend two things: the best stroller I have ever found, the Chicco Liteway Stroller ($140), and the best baby carrier, the Ergo ($115).  Having had four strollers at one point when we lived in the house (a travel system, an umbrella stroller, a double stroller, and a universal stroller for transferring a car seat without disturbing the baby) and having used virtually every kind of baby carrier, I feel pretty confident in using the word best. The Chicco Liteway can be lifted, folded and unfolded with one hand (and a foot), fits in our dock box or a lazarette on the boat, reclines for newborn or naptime use, has a five-point harness to keep a toddler in place, has a sunshade, cup holder and storage basket, and is constructed of aluminum, plastic and canvas to make it weather-resistant. What more could I ask? (Maybe a snack tray and rain cover…)

The Ergo is, as the name suggests, ergonomic for mother and baby. Mom bears the weight on her legs (like a frame pack), and the baby’s spine is supported (as opposed to dangling a by the crotch). It works for newborns as well as toddlers up to forty pounds, is washable, compact enough to stuff in a bag, can be fastened by the wearer (without help), has a sunshade and zipper pocket, and can be worn on the front, back, and even hip. I love this thing—I actually walked around Publix last week with a two-week old baby and was able to discreetly nurse her while I shopped—the ultimate in multi-tasking!  I can even go to the bathroom without removing the carrier or baby. Because it is so comfortable, I can wear it for hours without a backache. Sam spent a good amount of his infancy in it, and I was able to handle lines and help with docking and anchoring with him on my back! It’s great for dinghy rides, hiking, and beach trips, too. As a bonus, when people make the annoying and repetitive comment, “Boy, you’ve got your hands full!” I just hold up my hands and say, “Actually, I’ve got both hands free!”

Compass Peak

The last item, diapering, is near and dear to my heart, as I have spent eight of the last ten years taking care of small butts. We have always used cloth diapers, even when we lived in the house, because I couldn’t stand the idea that my children’s diapers would probably outlive them if they were made of plastic and buried in a landfill somewhere. Because we live on a boat and travel, buying and storing enough diapers would be difficult to impossible. Cloth is economical, better for the baby and the environment, and encourages earlier potty-training.

For the other four children, we used a brand called Indisposables and I really liked them. They are pre-formed cotton flannel diapers, with thick padding in the middle, elastic legs and waist, and Velcro fasteners. They are used in conjunction with vinyl covers (either waterproof pants or Velcro-closure wraps) and flannel wipes. They cost about $300 and last on average 2 ½ children, assuming two years of use per kid. They were falling apart by the time Sam arrived, so we bought new ones. They can be washed and hung to dry, and don’t require folding. For Rachel, I was looking for similar diapers, but wanted something that would dry faster and look more innocuous on the lifelines. I found a great deal on a starter kit: the Bummis Organic Cotton Diaper Kit ($170), which came with two dozen tri-fold flat diapers, six waterproof Velcro-fastener covers, a waterproof hanging bag (to use as a washable diaper pail), polyester liners for nap/night time use, and other assorted accessories. I love them, and they do dry faster, spending less time on the lifelines. I have to do a load every day or two, but as we now have a washer/dryer on the boat, it’s no big deal. There is a third kind of diaper which I have not tried, an all-in-one where the waterproof cover has a cotton liner, and is fully adjustable for newborn-through-toddler size—but my sister-in-law is sending me some, so I’ll have write later about those. For now, the Bummis are working great and seem to be ideal for a boating family with a baby.

Needless to say, we are enjoying our new crew member immensely. She is a joy to be around and sleeps like, well, a baby. I’m also loving the new baby stuff—it seems like I have finally figured out after five kids how to identify gear that makes sense and gives me a lot of bang for my buck. If I’m not an expert by now, I guess I never will be.

Two Dinghy Family

by on in Recipes

We just acquired our 3rd dinghy.  We've always carried a spare dinghy in the form of our 14'
Porta-Bote.  This new boat is intended to replace the PB, but be more functional.  In the time we've owned it, about 2 years, I can recall unfolding the Porta-Bote exactly three times.  It's a little bit of a major pain in the ass.  Yes, it folds to 4" flat and straps to the lifelines very conveniently, but the seats, oars, and transom still have to be stowed somewhere, and they are not small.

The new dinghy is a 10' Avon inflatable with a high pressure air floor.  It will roll up and fit into a space smaller than that taken by the PB's seats.

Another Dinghy

The driving factor here is that we're no longer a one dinghy family.  With Rachel's birth we've exceeded the rated capacity of our 12' RIB, which really only matters in places that care about that sort of thing (ie. the US).  More importantly, we have growing boys that are ready for a little more freedom.  We already let them go explore alone by kayak, and this new boat is intended to be the "kids" boat and extend their range.  As the boys grow in size and appetite, we're also expecting this boat will help them contribute to the dinner table in the form of fish and lobster.  

Another consideration is that we've felt constrained in some of our dinghy excursions in remote areas by the prospect of engine failure.  With this second dinghy, we'll have a built-in buddy boat.  Both of these uses require the backup boat to be readily available, which the PB is not.  We're expecting the air floor dinghy will be easier to deploy and spend more time in readiness.

Of course, this second boat will need a driver.  Aaron has recently received his Florida Boating Safety Education I.D. Card and is now a legal operator in Florida.

Legal

McBaby vs. Certified Organic Baby

by on in General

I promised details about Rachel’s birth for those who want to read them. WARNING: this essay contains a description of natural childbirth, so if you can’t handle it, don’t read it.

Rachel is two weeks old today, and the most pleasant baby we’ve had. I don’t know how much truth there is to the theory that the kind of birth experience a baby has affects his or her personality for life (it certainly affects the mother's willingness to have more children), but Rachel would support the theory that the more peaceful the birth, the more peaceful the baby. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that we’ve done this four times before, and we’re more relaxed. I am certain that the mother’s feelings during pregnancy and after birth are reflected in the baby’s disposition. All I can say about that is, “Poor Eli.” No wonder our first kid is so keyed-up.

The previous four children were born without drugs and with minimal intervention, under the care of a midwife, but in a hospital setting. There is a time and place for medical attention, for medication, and for “meddling.” Natural, uncomplicated birth is not it. It took me a few babies to realize I do not need to be in a hospital, just relatively near one in case of emergency. I have a history of late babies and long, slow labors. Once I figured out that it takes my body a really long time to prepare itself for the last phase of labor, I just stayed at home until it was time, or, in a couple of cases, allowed the midwife to start an induction using Cervidil (to ripen the cervix), but I never actually needed a Pitocin (IV) induction. I’ve also condoned various interventions to speed things up: stripping membranes, breaking my water, enemas—you name it and we’ve tried it. But I’ve never had an epidural (no needles in my spine, thank you very much) and don’t mind suffering a little to bring a child into the world. In fact, I would say that the suffering is proportionate to the elation one feels afterward.

But this time, I wanted something different. Having a baby in the hospital is like going to McDonald’s at lunch time. A hospital is a place of busy-ness—people running around in scrubs, officiously doing their duties and following protocols. The L&D room is needed for the next customer, so taking 24 hours to have a baby makes one a nuisance. Also, the nurses are used to 90% of women wanting to be drugged immediately, and then they rest comfortably hooked up to a monitor that can be seen remotely at the nurse’s station down the hall. These moms require very little. The mom going natural is always asking for things or refusing things, and some nurses feel rather put out. And when it’s time to actually have the baby, the busy-ness increases: a team of strangers in green swarm into your room and turn on bright lights and start unpacking mysterious packages. The end of the bed breaks away and when that wee thing comes into the world, it is a shock of lights, noise and air conditioning. They are whisked away to a corner of the room to be poked and cleaned and checked. No wonder they scream their little heads off.

As we have gotten more organic and natural in everything we do, it makes sense that this assembly-line approach to birthing babies would become less acceptable to me. When I found Rosemary Birthing Home (www.rosemarybirthing.com) in Sarasota, I knew that aside from having a birth on the boat with an island midwife—we’re not quite there yet—this would be the best option for a peaceful, natural birth for our fifth child. I mean, my midwife’s name is Harmony for heaven’s sake! We were right. There was no rush, no sense that we were a burden, no unnecessary meddling.  Instead of McDonald’s at lunch time, it was like going to a friend’s for a home-cooked dinner and staying to open another bottle of wine. The birth was no shorter than normal, but aside from my water having broken (which starts a 24-hour intervention clock ticking) the experience was so much more relaxing. Labor in the courtyard, in the tub, in the shower, in the rocking chair, in the kitchen, in the garden, on the boardwalk along Sarasota Bay—no one was telling me what to do or how to do it. Not that we didn’t try to speed things up a bit—I went to the acupuncturist, tried herbs and homeopathy, even drank a Castor oil smoothie. The difference for Jay was marked, too. He hates hospitals, and was a little wigged out after Sarah's arrival (at 9 1/2 lbs. she was hard to get out). He bowed out of Sam’s arrival, leaving it to a team of girlfriends instead. But he was more comfortable in the homey atmosphere at Rosemary and was on hand when Rachel arrived, just outside the door. Even Sarah, at seven, felt comfortable and was there to see her sister’s birth.

In the end, Harmony gave me the extra time I needed to have the kind of birth I wanted to have (we were close to having to transfer to Sarasota Memorial), and when Rachel finally decided to show up, she came fast. So fast, in fact, that I didn’t even make it to the birthing tub and had her in the shower, where I had been laboring for the pain relief of pressurized hot water. When I picked her up for the first time, she wasn’t crying. She was quiet and alert, looking around and wondering where she was. We spent the first couple of hours of her life just looking at each other, holding her in the warm water of my (undefiled) birthing tub, nursing, and generally basking in the post-childbirth glow. (Man, those hormones are like a really good drug.) We had Rachel the night of May 2nd, and at midnight, we broke out the chocolate cake and candles and celebrated Sarah’s 7th birthday on May 3rd! I had plenty of time to rest and recover (Harmony herself made my breakfast the next morning after Jay had gone with Sarah to pick up the boys) before heading out to my mother-in-law’s. It was, aside from the part of childbirth I’m already forgetting about, a totally pleasant experience. I will never have another McBaby again (if I have another at all). I never cease to feel amazed at the miracle of new life—thanks be to God for answering all our prayers for a smooth delivery and a healthy baby!

[flickr: 5701513671]

Pictured (l-r) Priscilla, the apprentice midwife, Tarin, friend and birth coach, me and Rachel, and Harmony, midwife