When Cockroaches Happen to Clean People

“Britt, how many roaches would you say we kill a day?” I heard Scott call casually over his shoulder from the front seat of the rental minivan we were sharing with our new friends.  We had just gone grocery shopping and he was talking to the husband, Luuck (pronounced Luke).  Apparently the mention of “cardboard" and the common knowledge amongst boaters that it's a vehicle for roach eggs gave Scott the go-ahead to tell our compadres about our little, er... situation. “I mean, like, two or three at least, right?” he continued with a shrug.  Like it was no big deal.  Like we were discussing flooring options: hardwood or wall-to-wall? Hmmmm....

What the HELL!?!?

I wanted to die right there.  I mean, what was he thinking making our cockroach issue (it is NOT a problem!) public?  I thought we had an understanding! It was supposed to remain our dirty little secret until we got rid of them, at which point we'd talk about our former pests much like people reminisce about the Depression Era and shudder as we recalled "the time we lived with roaches".  I mean, we are clean people.  Cockroaches aren't supposed to thrive amongst people like us.  This should not be happening.

I sat silent while I turned a lovely shade of crimson and slowly looked over to my friend Darcy in defeat, knowing full well that she would never ever come over to our veritable roach motel for a another happy hour again.  Dinner? Ha! Forget about it.  Bring her baby over to play with my baby?  No way, Jose.  It was over (not true, but still, I thought that at the time).  I felt like Hester Prynne with the scarlet letter on my chest, only my "letter" was a cardboard cutout of a German cockroach, antennae and all. "Hi! I'm Brittany...oh, the cockroach on my chest?  It's nothing, really.  Just ignore him...hey, where are you going?"  Gross.

To add insult to injury, Scott prattled on...

“They’re small though, really tiny...” he said matter-of-factly, "... I mean – the biggest we’ve killed is no longer than three-quarters of an inch, wouldn't you agree, Britt?”  I swear to God if I had "go-go Gadget" arms I would have strangled him right then and there.  But being that we were in the company of our new friends and respective children. I chuckled uncomfortably and said, “Um, honey…you do realize our friends are never going to come over again, right?”  If looks could kill.

There is no one, no one who doesn't find cockroaches in a living space completely and utterly appalling.  And rightfully so.  They are synonymous with filth and squalor.  Our roach problem issue has been documented before on the blog - but since we've been cruising, I wanted to keep hush hush about it because, frankly, I wanted to stick my head in the sand.  We've tried the boric acid cookies, we sprinkled Borax powder liberally in nooks and crannies, we tried the motels, hotels and traps and we fogged the boat on six - yes six - occasions.  Useless.  Each time, the little monsters prevailed.  I could almost hear their shrill, high-pitched roachy-laughter echoing from the woodwork every time a new battle tactic was attempted. "Good luck suckers!" I imagined them saying, "You know the Armageddon-style explosion that killed the dinosaurs and all life on earth as we knew it? Yeah.  We survived that! Bwa-hahahaha!" they'd say.  It was - is - maddening.  It's even worse because I am of the OCD variety when it comes to cleanliness and I have begun to take their presence on our boat as a personal affront.  I mean, if there was a holster that could contain a roll of paper towel and a solid cleaning agent, I would wear that bad boy with pride.  I clean a lot.  I repeat, WE ARE NOT DIRTY PEOPLE.

And that's not all!  I'm also compulsive about how we store our food.  Everything is in airtight containers, double or triple bagged and after meals there is nary a crumb for them to munch on.  Unfortunately, I have learned they don't need actual food to survive.  They can happily make a meal of book-binding glue, soap, nylon stockings, grease and dried skin flakes (we will be exfoliating, family-style, on the aft deck nightly now).  To make matters worse, they will even eat their own feces and dead brethren in a pickle.  It is clear we will not be starving them off our boat.

I was at a loss, so I hit the world wide web.  Waving the white flag and accepting the possibility that we might be living with them for a while longer, I wanted to know just how bad roaches were.  Are they really as gross as everyone says?  Did they really spread ebola?  Was my boat indeed a cesspool?  Turns out - none of these things were true.  Cockroaches are actually the cats of the insect world and clean themselves fastidiously - even obsessively so.  According to this article they are not as dirty as people think and the only filth they spread is the filth that they are actually living in and walk across.  Therefore, if you keep a clean house (as we do), you have clean roaches (semi-happy dance).  A human hand carries far more germs and bacteria than a cockroach.  And your cell phone?  Dirtier than a toilet seat.  This news made me breathe a small sigh of relief, however temporary.  They were not, in fact, going to infect my family with a flesh-eating disease.  This did not make living with them any better, of course,  but it was nice to know all my cleaning was not going to waste.  I was actually cleaning our roaches too.

The real problem with roaches is, from what I can gather, is their excrement.  Apparently people are all sorts of allergic to their - er- deposits and this is their true claim to pesty fame.  Luckily, the Meyers family shows no signs of being allergic and I have yet to see any roach poop in our living area (I look, trust me).  The other down side of having roaches (and the bigger one, in my opinion) is psychological.  I now see imagined roaches EVERYWHERE I look.  The errant piece of fuzz that blows across the counter?  A roach.  That tiny crumb that fell off my toast?  Roach.  That little shadow I see across the galley?  Roach.  The coffe ground stuck to the side of the sink? Roach.  The random drill hole in the wall?  Roach.  The stray hair caressing my back? Gah!! ROACH!  I feel like I'm living in the Twilight Zone whereby I see things that are not really there.  I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life in this regard and I will forever see roaches in every tiny dark shadow and little black speck that crosses my peripheral from here on out.  It could be worse, I guess.

That said, we have not conceded to live peacefully amongst our persistent pests.  Despite the fact that they might share my OCD nature, they still gross us out and we want them gone.  We have a full-blown, real-deal exterminator coming today.  He is going to spread some industrial strength cockroach-killing gel around the boat and we're buying an extra tube of it from him for good measure.  He, and several others we've talked to, swear this will work.  We're being cautiously optimistic.  In the meantime, we'll just keep reminding ourselves that we're the owners of clean cockroaches because - I would like to stress - we are clean people.  And yes, cockroaches can happen to clean people.

New Anchor and Chain

"Have you thought about the logistics of getting 275 feet of  chain from a store onto the boat?" Scott asked me before he left.  I hadn't.  I just figured we'd buy chain, throw it in the car and put it on the boat.  If you're dealing with 275 feet of 3/8 G4 chain, however, it's not that easy.  Minor oversight.

The whole anchor system thing was one of my jobs and I'd been chipping away at it quite nicely:  I researched and determined what size anchor and chain we wanted (73lb Rocna, 3/8 G4 High Test chain), I worked directly with Rocna and got an awesome deal on a new Rocna Anchor (more on this beast later), I found a company that produces our out-of-production windlass and ordered a new gypsy for it (with the help of a blog follower and some internet super-sleuthing) and I contacted West Marine who agreed to price match Defender for our anchor chain. We were good to go! One thing I forgot about, however, was that moving 400 plus pounds of anchor chain is no easy feat. "I'll figure it out" I told Scott with feigned confidence.  I think he just shook his head.

To simply measure the chain required the man power of two strapping, young West Marine employees.  They laid out the 275 feet along the floor, making a clanking sound for all to hear as it left the barrel (I know because when I checked out the nice girl said, 'Oh so *you* were the one buying the chain').  Lucky for me, my dad is in town for a visit and it was he who had the foresight to ask if we could have a barrel to house the chain and borrow a trolley cart to transport the stuff.  They happily obliged.  I honestly have no idea how I would have gotten all that chain from the store to the boat otherwise because the barrel and the wheel cart were integral to the operation.

This is how it went:  We loaded the chain into the barrel.  Wheeled the barrel out to the car.  Unloaded the chain out of the barrel and loaded it into the car.  Drove home.  Unloaded the chain out of the car into the barrel.  Wheeled the barrel 3/4 of the way to the boat.  Unloaded 1/2 the chain from the barrel so we could lift the barrel and the cart up the step.  Reloaded the chain into the barrel.  Wheeled cart to boat.  Unloaded chain completely.   Laid it out all along the docks and marked it every twenty feet (we used the same system we did on Rasmus). And only THEN we were finally able to load the chain onto the boat.  The whole process took about three hours. Turns out, loading/unloading 275 feet of heavy chain nine or ten times takes a while!  Did I want a beer by the time it was over?  You betcha!

So anyway, our windlass works great with our new gypsy, our new anchor looks downright frightening on the bow, and our incredibly heavy chain is all marked and piled up in the chain locker.  I was worried that our boat would be bow heavy after all of this but you know what?  Our blue beauty barely budged an inch in the water.

The day didn't go off completely without a hitch though (do they ever when working on a boat?); we discovered that the anchor locker will need some modification in order to properly house all the new chain.  It's nothing that some plywood, epoxy and fiberglass can't fix but it is another item added to our to-do list.  But as long as we keep taking two steps forward and only one back, we're making progress!

Neglected Boats

Every anchorage has at least one, usually more...they sit on the water rotting away, usually listing from one side to the other...the waterline is typically black and full of barnacles, the gelcote pitted and bubbling, and rust has overtaken the fittings.  The deck more often than not has been pillaged; halyards removed, sails gone, hardware stripped.  They are sad, decrepit, and lonely.  They are neglected boats.

One of the biggest fallacies to befall cruisers everywhere is the notion that we are all rich.  Like, filthy rich.  While there are definitely cruisers that fit this description, the vast majority do not.  To be completely honest, an anchorage is not unlike a trailer park.  We as cruisers get slightly more credit and respect because of the innate romance of the sea, the reality that we get to "park" in exotic, beautiful locations and the fact that it requires a significant amount of skill and tenacity to get where we are going.  Scott and I have made the comparison more than once, usually when greeted by the toothless grin of an old timer who has become so accustomed to the "laid back" cruising life he considers ill-fitting, threadbare boxer shorts with suspenders "clothes".  The images you see in Tommy Bahama, Polo and Land's End Catalogues do not paint a realistic picture of the average-Joe full-time cruiser and I can honestly say we have never uncorked a single bottle of champagne on our boat*.  Rum? Yes.  Champagne?  Nope.

Neglected boats are proof positive that not all cruisers are bottomless pits of money.  While not all cruisers maintain their boats to "pristine" standards, the neglected boats are often obvious and abandoned.  They always make me wonder - what happened to the owner (death? illness? bankruptcy? divorce?)?  How long as this boat been sitting here (in many cases it is years)?  What must it be like down below? (Water damage, rats, rotting food?).  Boats signify dreams to me and these sad boats are somehow symbolic of a dream gone awry.  At some point someone loved that boat that is slowly falling claim to the wind, sun and sea and for some reason, it has been forgotten and abandoned.  Because these boats are more often than not at anchor (which is free and 'owned' by no one) they will be allowed to sit and rot away year after year after year before they either sink, drag into another boat or someone comes to their rescue... whenever I see these boats I wish I knew their stories...

Love,
Brittany & Scott

*I tell a lie!  We did uncork one bottle before we left Chicago at our going away party.

La Cucaracha

The battle has begun.

Somehow, writing it in Spanish while humming this famous tune makes it seem less threatening (go on, open a new window and let that play in the background while you read this, you know you want to). I mean, the fact that someone would make a plucky and up-beat Mariachi song about a cockroach (you did know that that is what that means, right?) which is (ironically) often played in Mexican cantinas somehow makes what I am about to type less disgusting...

Who am I kidding? No, it doesn't.

I think I saw a cockroach the other night.

Actually, after a morning of desperate "Say it ain't so!" interneting on the subject - I am sure I did.

On our boat.

There it is.

Now that I have gone and admitted that, please don't hate us and think we are disgusting people, because I assure you - we are not! "But only dirty people have cockroaches, Brittany" you might say and yes, up until now, I would have agreed with you. However, now I am singing a different tune. Now, to you I'd say "I'll let my OCD take on your OCD any day!" Bring it. Seriously. When it comes to being clean, I would be in the "anal" category.  Our boat is immaculate and pretty much anyone who comes aboard takes note of it. You know my favorite aisle in the grocery store? Yeah, the cleaning products. I love me a good "all purpose" cleaner and our head actually smells good. This is the truth people.

I have read a lot about cockroaches on boats (namely how to keep them off) and have been following all the rules to keep these beasts at bay; we don’t allow cardboard of any kind on the boat, I thoroughly and immediately clean all produce that comes on the boat with a vinegar and water solution (if it’s particularly suspect, I use diluted bleach), we never leave food out, I clean the counters with Simple Green a minimum of 3 times a day, I dust-bust crumbs from our carpets with our little DC-powered hand-held vacuum, I take garbage out daily, clean the sink after we do dishes, wipe down the stove and oven after each use, bathe daily...I even sprayed all our dock lines with anti-roach spray (granted, that was 5 months ago), and yet - it seems they have arrived.  Probably via our no-longer-toxic dock lines.  Another point for anchoring out (but - they are known to fly - so no one is immune)!

It happened the other night when I was enjoying The Muppets Christmas Carol in the saloon. The lights were out and it was theater dark in the boat minus the glow of light from my computer screen. Somewhere between the ghost of Christmas past and the ghost of Christmas present was when I saw it: the distinct silhouette of a roach (granted, a small one) marching confidently over my keyboard, as if he was coming back to his seat after hitting the concession stand. I gasped. I froze. I watched him move in total disbelief. Was this my ghost of Christmas present? Surely this had to be an apparition, right? We have never, ever seen a roach on Rasmus and I had all intentions of keeping it that way.

I got up, left the lights off and walked over to take a closer look. And that’s when he stopped, turned around slowly on his spindly little legs, looked me in the eye and laughed - I swear to God he laughed in my face. I grabbed the flashlight, grabbed a paper towel and came down on him with a thud. I picked up the paper towel and...nada. In an instant he had all but disappeared in some crevice near the nav station. I have no idea where, because not only was it dark, but there was not a single opening that seemed big enough to accommodate him. Was it possible that he literally slipped through a crack? Apparently, yes. I have since learned that cockroaches are the original "shape-shifters" and very wily in their ways. Now you see ‘em, now you don’t.

Did you know that cockroaches date back to the dinosaurs? Yeah. They are one of the very few creatures to have survived the epic whatever it was that pretty much killed everything else on earth except for a handful of bizarre mollusks, a few bacteria, and some single cell organisms. This is what I am dealing with, people. These little bastards are NOT easy to kill.  They mean business and once they are on the boat - immediate action must be taken to get them off because - as much as I hate to admit -  where there is one, there are many.  They breed faster than the Duggar Family and getting rid of them (and their eggs, which can lay dormant for a LONG time) can take months.  This should be fun.

Luckily for me - I am going home tomorrow and I have already ordered an arsenal of wonderfully toxic products (from Boric acid* to Raid Bombs) to use when I return (If an asteroid or an ice age won't kill these bastards - I'm going to bring out the big guns).  We'll stay off the boat for a few days while these poisons work their magic and then do it all over again.  We will also be fumigating the boat when we haul out and I figure between two solid blasts of insecticides - we should be able to return to a roach-free boat next year.  That's the hope, at least.  We'll keep you posted.  War has been waged.  It's on like Donkey-Kong over here.

In the meantime, I'm going to clean the boat...again.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

* One of the less-toxic (keep away pets though!) and reportedly successful roach killers is Boric Acid mixed with jam and/or sugar and placed strategically throughout the boat.  I will be trying this.

Epirb Accident

Our EPIRB, an ACR Global Fix Pro

As I mentioned in an earlier post, tis the season for cruising down here and boats are leaving by the dozens for new adventures, islands and destinations...

The other day, one such boat from our marina started heading North again.  They left quietly for their Virgin Island's destination...quietly, that is, until their EPIRB went off.

For those that don't know - an EPIRB is an emergency position-indicating radio beacon that some boats have on board as a safety device.  Personally, I wouldn't venture offshore without one, but many do.  When disaster strikes, it's your last ditch effort, your 911 call on the water, a final lifeline to the outside world when radio and all else fails you and, if you activate it, it is presumed you are in imminent danger or worse.  Once activated (either manually or when submerged in water, as in a sinking) a signal with GPS position is sent out into the atmosphere.  This signal can be picked up practically any distance from shore, anywhere on the globe.  They are monitored world-wide and taken very, very seriously.  Ships large and small within striking distance are alerted and are expected, by law, to divert and search for the vessel.  The nearest Coast Guard operations are notified and rescue efforts put into effect.  Families are called.  Cruising communities alerted.  In short, it's a big deal.  EPRIBS have saved countless lives that would have otherwise been lost without a trace.

When this particular boat's EPIRB went off, it took all of a few hours for the news to travel back to the Grenada cruising community.  While many of us were certain it had to be a fluke or an accident (there had been no significant weather whatsoever) we all remained quietly mindful that there is always risk out there; collision with another ship, an unfortunate run-in with a rogue container or some other freak accident.  The mind boggles.  The fact is, if their lives were in danger, the word (complete with their last known GPS position) was widely known within a couple hours and people were out looking for them.  Pretty impressive.

As it turns out, the boat and it's crew are fine - but this is good reminder as to how effective an EPIRB is in case of emergency.  It's also a good reminder that if you have an EPIRB on board, make sure to keep it in a place that is not only convenient and easy to deploy, but one that is inconspicuous enough so that you won't accidentally activate it.  Not only accidental activation cause your fellow cruisers and family a good amount of worry, but you will potentially rack up a bill of god knows how much after all the resources are put in effect to find you.

The cruising community here and up island collectively breathed a sigh of relief to know our boater friends were safe, and I for one am relieved to have seen first hand just how effective this fantastic safety device is.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

It's (almost) Cruising Season in the Caribbean Again

There used to be three boats here just two days ago...

...and now, they are gone.  It's that time of year again folks:  Cruising season!  The Caribbean hurricane season (roughly June to November) is all but over and boats are headed out to sea again.  Some are headed North, some venturing South, with others trekking East or West.  It's an emotional time for many; not only because so many people must bid farewell to so many wonderful boating friends they have made but because many people are discovering their boats aren't quite as ready to leave as they are.  You see,  after months and months of sitting idle many people rev their engines to head out to that ever-beckoning horizon, only to turn around and limp back to the harbor or anchorage less than 12 hours later when they discover some system isn't working properly.

Scott and I have a saying when it comes to health and fitness, and that is "move it or lose it".  The idea being that if you don't move and use your body (thus staying fit), you'll end up with all sorts of health problems later.  This appears to be true for boats as well.  Many boat's are waking up from their summer hibernations with ceased water pumps, faulty windlasses, impellers that don't impel, depth sounders that don't sound and more.  Because we have been travelling so much since we got here (and not by our boat) and because Scott now is gone all week long with his new job, we too, have neglected to use our little Rasmus.  And boy does she need to get out to sea again!

So...how can you prevent your boat from falling into this trap?  While we are obviously not leading by example - I think the trick is to USE it.  Go for a day sail, run your engine, drop your anchor, service your winches, check your oils, run those halyards, and grease those moving parts!  While this doesn't guarantee you won't have any surprises, it will help to keep you on top of the problems as they arise so you aren't scrambling for parts at the very last minute, desperately trying to fix something so you can get to the BVI's for Christmas or something similar.

We're planning on doing a little cruising in November to the Grenadines when we have a slew of visitors - so we'll let you know how we fare...fingers crossed!

Love,
Brittany & Scott

Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You

A typical, Grenada road*.

"Do one thing every day that scares you".  This is a nice quote.  It's simple, good advice to inspire people to get out of their daily grind.  Scared of swimming?  Sign up for swim lessons.  Scared of heights?  Head to a climbing gym.  Scared of singing?  Down few stiff drinks and hit a karaoke bar.  You get the idea.  I think breaking through boundaries is good.  Doing things that scare us teaches us things; we learn in the process that a) it wasn't so bad and b) I can do something I didn't think I could!

The other day I did something that scared me.  Granted, I didn't know it would scare me, but it scared me none the less.

The other day I rode a Grenadian bus.

First of all, let me tell you that the transportation system here is actually really good (from what I know so far).  The 'busses' run all the time, they are super cheap (less than $1.00 US for a ride), can get you just about anywhere, and they run on a high frequency.  Instead of busses as we know them, they consist of minivans that are packed to the gills with people.  Because they are run (I think) by the private sector, they are very efficient and eager to pick up as many people as they can as FAST as they can.

In order to continue this story I must confess something.  Back in the day, I was what some might consider a "crazy" driver.   I drove fast and I may or may not have been on a first name basis with a local police officer when I was in high school.  Once, in college, I was driving down an empty highway with my friend and we were going very, very fast.  I got pulled over.  The friendly officer came up to my window and asked:

Officer: Do you have any idea how fast you were going?
Me (meekly as a last ditch effort to project innocence):  Um...no?
He paused, jotting down a note and gave me a stern look right in the eye...
Officer: Technically, darlin', you were driving with intent to kill.

WHAT THE?!?!

YES.  You read that correctly. "Driving with intent to kill".  That is actually a classification.  I had no idea either.  I was going something ridiculous like 60 miles over the speed limit.

Luckily, the officer liked me and took pity on me (knowing full well I was not, actually, driving "with intent to kill") and gave me a reckless driving charge instead.  My license was taken away for a while and I went to traffic school.  I learned a lesson and have since slowed down.

My point in telling you this story is to illustrate two points 1) I am not a scary cat behind the wheels and 2) the other day, our bus driver WAS driving with intent to kill*.  I have never been so terrified in a vehicle in my life.  This guy, I swear, had fire in his eyes.   The roads here, while paved, are only about a lane and a half wide and most have very deep gutters along the side.  Once you get up in the hills there are no sidewalks.  Because of this people, dogs, goats and parked cars line the side of the street making the road even narrower.  Combined with oncoming traffic and the fact that the roads here turn and wind like a formula one race track, you have one heck of a ride.  It is insane.

Every turn we took not only did we speed up, but it seemed there was always an innocent bystander walking along who it seemed certain our side mirrors would take out.  Every few seconds we were angrily jerked from one side of the bus to the other as our bat-out-of-hell driver made a turn.  There were even times I thought we were going to clip the corner of a house for crying out loud (some come right up to the road).  I'm fairly certain this guy didn't take his foot off the gas once despite descending inclines that would put San Francisco hills to shame. When most people would be riding the breaks, this guy had the pedal to the metal. I think we might have even gotten on two wheels during one hair pin turn but I cannot be sure.

You know that feeling you get in your tummy when you go down the first drop of a roller coaster?  Yeah.  We got that.  Several times. I don't know if this guy found out his wife was cheating on him or his favorite show got cancelled or what, but I felt compelled to shout "Look out!" to everyone in the street.  Scott and I sat in white knuckled silence as the world whizzed by; wincing each time we turned, gasping every time we had a near miss with a skipping school child...total craziness.  It was the first time I have thought of my "driving with intent to kill" incident in a long time.

Obviously we survived.

But it scared the heck out of us.

I sure hope I don't meet a sociopath at the grocery store tomorrow.

* Photo courtesy of Lorrin Lee's photostream since I, obviously, could not take a picture.
**I have taken several other buses since and this, it seems, was a stand alone incident.

Top 10 Tuesdays: Top 10 Oh Sh** Moments

These are the moments where our hearts skip a beat, the moments when we realize we're in a little deeper than we liked or when we've bitten off more than we can chew.  This list will most certainly grow and change and we continue to cruise - but for now, here it is! Hopefully you can learn a thing or two from our mistakes, or - at the very least - laugh at our expense.  Enjoy!

1)  Our first overnight of the trip when we got caught, totally unprepared, in a gale that lasted over 12 hours. 

Lesson Learned?  Pay close attention to the weather and make sure you can properly interpret a weather map.  This will greatly reduce your chances of getting caught like we were.  The lessons we learned during this storm, however, were critical.

2)  When we hit a rock in the Erie Canal. 

Lesson Learned?  Do not cut the corner.  That buoy is there for a reason.

3) When we stepped into water in our boat in Lake Erie.

Lesson Learned?  No matter how good of a bilge pump you have - it always pays to check the bilge and test the pump from time to time to make sure it's working.

4)  When we pulled into the fuel dock in Annapolis and realized we hadn’t reeled in our fishing line and discovered it was sufficiently wrapped around the prop. 

Lesson Learned?  Do not forget to reel in that line before you come into a dock/mooring/anchorage.

5)  When our engine transmission died. 

Lesson learned?  Your engine won't just keep running if you don't monitor it.  Have a mechanic walk you through the various parts of your engine and how to check them, the oils, the belt....etc. 

6) When we were pinned to a dock in Beaufort, South Carolina and managed to get off anyway (...by the skin of our teeth - this one still makes me shudder)

Lesson Learned?  Tides and their associated currents are real and they are dangerous.  If you are pinned to a dock, don't try to fight it - have a beer or take a walk and wait for slack tide.  The only reason we can tell this story is because we have a 53 hp engine.  No joke.

7)  When, in the Erie Canal, we flushed our toilet one too many times only to burst the top off of our holding tank and have the contents overflow into the locker and our bilge.

Lesson Learned?  Make sure you either a) can monitor the fullness of your holding tank or b) you know roughly how much waste it can hold.  When in doubt?  Pump it out!!

8) When, along the East Coast, we found ourselves in a Force 8 Gale with winds blowing a sustained 35 knots for hours. 

Lesson Learned?  The weather people lie.  If they tell you it's going to blow 15 knots, it might just blow 35 knots so it's always best to be prepared.  That - and the East Coast in November/December is gnarly!

9) When we realized the bottom of our dinghy was coming off.

Lesson Learned?  Invest in a decent dinghy (and outboard)!!!  This is the ONE area we completely overlooked and paid little attention to and we are suffering because of it (but, not for long - thanks to our new sponsor Island Water World!!).  Honestly, your dinghy is your freedom and we have been nothing but a slave to ours.

10) When, very early on, we realized during an overnight shakedown cruise (when our old engine surged and died) - that Scott had topped off our fuel tank with GASOLINE and not DIESEL.

Lesson Learned?  We were lucky.  We only topped off the tank with 5 gallons or so.  Much more and you can kill your engine.  Always double check that the attendant has handed you the fuel that you need (we always ask twice) and then smell it to be sure (diesel and gasoline smell different).

So, there you have it folks!  Our learning curve was steep, but looking at it in Top Ten form, it's not so bad, right?  

Love,

Brittany & Scott

Thank you to our avid follower and reader, Paul Ouellette for the inspiration for this post.  :)

Falling Apart at the Seams

Something was wrong with our dinghy.  Very wrong.  Every time we got in it we had to pump out at least three inches of water and by the time we got to our destination (usually no farther than a 5 minute ride - we've never *really* trusted her) we would be ankle deep in seawater.  Luckily, we have this handy little pump which is incredibly efficient (and arm toning all in one!) at removing water.

We've been going along like this for months.  Scott tried to silicone the bottom back in the Bahamas (on the recommendation from the man we bought it from), but it did little to quell the flow.  We knew the leaking problem was getting worse, but neither Scott nor I really wanted to address it.  We happily kept pumping like mad, accepting the ritual as normal, and joking ourselves into thinking this was something we could live with.  It wasn't that bad, after all (yes, it was).

"How's the dinghy look?" Scott would yell from down below as I gingerly moved in the sloshing mess to get to the pump.

"Ya know...not so bad...I think maybe it rained more than we thought last night",  I'd reply with a hopeful, feigned smile - knowing full well that I was lying to myself as I vigorously pumped out six inches of water.

We tap danced around our little dinghy issue like this until the other day when Scott and I were swimming in the water.  We were floating along in the midday sun, enjoying our recently purchased foam noodles and having doggy paddle races (don't knock 'em till you try 'em!), when Scott caught a glimpse of a flap hanging off the bottom of the dinghy.  He swam over to investigate.

"Uh...Britt.." he said as he cautiously lifted the flap, "I can see through to the other side".  I extricated myself from my comfy noodle position and swam over.  It was true.  We had a giant hole.  Right in the bottom of our dinghy.  So that was where all that water had been coming from!  We both spontaneously smiled (even chuckled!) at the relief of knowing where the heck all the water had been coming from - mystery solved! - and then groaned at the realization that it was a much, much bigger problem than we thought.

Adding insult to injury Scott added, "Oh...and the pontoons are leaking" - he splashed a little water on an old patch to show me where the precious air was evacuating, "see?"  I put my ear to where he indicated and sure enough, I heard the telltale "ffffffffffffsssssssssssss" of a pinhole leak.

Suuuupppper.

You know you're dinghy has had it when it's the first thing you check when you wake up in the morning.  Not because you think it might have been stolen, but because you think it might have sunk.

We took our boat out of the water the other day to assess the damage and discovered, much to our dismay, that the bottom of the dinghy is just a party barge's wake away from peeling completely off.  Our dinghy is literally falling apart at the seams!

Luckily for us we a) can laugh at this (because, looking back on all the dinghy rides where our feet were submerged, it *is* pretty funny) and b) we are very close to our "end" destination of Grenada where we will be at a marina for at least a month and where we will be able to buy a new dinghy*.

Sigh.

Scott and I are literally having conversations nowadays that sound like this:
"Oh my god - you know how great life will be when we get a RIB?"
"The possibilities will be endless..."
"No more soaking wet feet!!"
"We'll be able to put things on the floor!"...
"What will we do with all the time saved not pumping out water?!"
"Imagine not having to worry every morning that it has sunk!"
"We can go more than a half mile away!"
"Hard bottom!"...
"Planing hull!"...

At least we have something to look forward to!

Love,
Brittany & Scott

*Right now we are looking at either this dinghy or this dinghy.  And before you tell us to get a bigger one - please keep in mind it will not fit on our bow!

Wine Crisis!

Well, it happend.  We never thought it would.  We thought we had prepared.  We didn't want to admit that this day was going to come sooner than we thought...

We have run out of wine.

Looks like we're going to be drinking a lot more rum until we can re-provision.

Sigh.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

Stuck in Paradise?

The "ocean" side of where we are.  You'd never know there were five hundred boats on the other side!

I know, I know....poor me. I don't mean to complain - because, really - we are stuck in the Bahamas, of all places and let's face it, there are certainly worse places to be. But no matter what - when you want to move and cannot (and it is out of your control), it's just sort of a bummer.

Our dinghy saga continues, and - as with most lost and found stories - there is good news and bad news. The good news is, our dinghy was found. Our little Johnson 2HP motor was found as well, just at the bottom of the ocean and full (and I mean FULL) of sand. The mechanic told us it was a wash.  That's the bad news...

So the hunt for a new dinghy began...

At first, we were going to buy our good friends' sailing dinghy. Scott has wanted one forever and we were really excited about it. Unfortunately, when we tried the dinghy on the deck, it was too big. We were bummed. Really bummed. So the search continued...

We then heard on the "net" (the cruising community's form of "Good Morning America" here; it's on the VHF every day around 8am) that someone had a dinghy with an outboard they wanted to get rid of. We checked it out and it looked promising. The dinghy was in better shape than ours, and there was even a 5hp motor - which was better than nothing, right?

Well...maybe.

The engine isn't working exactly right.  We decided to buy it anyway (the price was a steal) - but now we sit and wait to hear of it's fate from the mechanic.  Time is ticking by as we sit here with fingers crossed.  Granted, I am sipping on a cold Kalik Beer, so again...could be worse...

Being without a functioning dinghy has us feeling sort of stranded.  We can't just zip to the beach or zip to town or zip to a snorkel spot.  Instead we hitch rides (thanks to all our friends who have helped us out!) or we just chill on the boat.  And wait.  It has us feeling slightly helpless.

And finally, while George Town has been great for the past week, we are ready to leave.  But we can't, because the next place where we will find all the resources we can find here is weeks away.  If anything is going to get fixed or bought or found, it will most likely happen here.

And such is the story how we have completely fallen right into the George Town cliche of "just another couple of cruisers who got 'stuck' here".  This is not a title we were striving for...

Stay tuned!  We should hear about the motor in another hour or so...

Love,

Brittany & Scott

Bye, Bye Little Dinghy

Nat and Scott put-putting along in better dingy days.

Well, we've done it.  We became "those" people the other night.  We lost our dinghy*.

Because it had been causing us so many troubles as of late, we had actually joked about letting it go, or perhaps just leaving it on the beach.  All jokes, mind you - we never really intended to do either.  But that just goes to show that what you put out into the Universe, you might just get.  Be careful what you wish for folks, because our dinghy is now gone.  I (and yes, I will take full responsibility for this) did not tie the boat up properly when we returned back to the boat the other night.  It was very late and very dark.  The wind was howling and we were scrambling to get on deck.  I thought I had tied a bowline (I mean, I have literally been tying bowlines since I was SIX for god's sake) but apparently I did not.  The next morning I woke up to Scott (who doesn't swear much), say a loud, "Oh s*@!".  And then he told me what happened.

And I laughed.  I actually laughed.  Really hard.  Oh the irony!  I mean, what else could I do?  Scott stood at the back of our boat and said with a sigh of defeat, "It could be anywhere out there."  I laughed harder still.

So, at the moment, we are dinghy-less.  Here in the cruiser's world this is like being without the family car.  We now rely on our friends to pick us up and take us around - but hey, that's what friends are for, right?

We haven't given up all hope that we'll find it...but I think we both secretly hope not too, because a new dinghy is in our future and there is even a deal in the works to snag the coolest dinghy of all....so stay tuned!

Love,
Brittany & Scott

*For those of you that don't know, a dinghy is a little boat that we use to get to and fro shore.  It was a little inflatable with a cute little 2hp motor that resembled a Star Wars Storm Trooper and was actually the family dingy and outboard from when I was a child (do the math:  30 years old).  RIP.

Impromptu Slumber Parties

Lots and lots of power in this Ocean!

As former "Great Lakes" sailors, the world of tides and currents has been foreign to us.  We are beginning to get the hang of it - but every now and then we are caught by surprise.  Like last night.

Brian and Lara of s/v Illusion came over for dinner, as per usual.  Because we all had originally planned to make the long haul to Georgetown the other day (from Staniel Cay) they put their dinghy and (very heavy) eight horse power motor on the boat for the offshore passage.  Plans changed (shocker!) and we are now cruising a little slower due to the wind direction blowing from exactly where we want to go (again, shocker!).

Our dinghy is easier to launch, but our lil' motor has been having...issues...so Scott rowed over to pick them up, a gesture for which they were very grateful.

We had a lovely dinner enjoying the peace and calm of this quiet and secluded anchorage with some great conversation and slightly less potent sangria.  And then it was time to go night-night.

Scott got in the dinghy and immediately said, "hmmm....quite a current in here....".  Regardless, they all jumped in - loaded their things and were about to shove off when I said, "How about I hold the tow-line to make sure you can row into this current".

Thank god I did, because if I had not - Lara, Scott and Brian would be camped out on a beach somewhere north of here subsisting on leftover pasta and bread, awaiting rescue.  I am not kidding.

The whole "rowing" thing was not going to work.  So we checked the tides and saw that it wasn't going to turn until the following morning.  Oops.

Slumber party!

Like the troopers they are - Lara and Brian just cuddled up in the aft cabin to sleep it out and wait until the morning.  Sometimes you just have to let nature win.  There is just no use fighting it.

Something tells me that Brian and Lara will be launching their dinghy from now on.  Eight horses is a lot of power...

Love,
Brittany & Scott

The Tale of the Panicked Mariner

The Panicked Mariner...his boat has been blurred to protect his privacy.  Ha.

After our docking extravaganza yesterday, we were happily on our way (albeit with thumping hearts) when all of a sudden we heard on the radio in a muffled, stressed-out voice, "Sailboat heading south?".  Scott and I looked at each other - then around the boat...there was another boat circling around out there.

"Is he hailing us?" I asked, confused.  It was a pretty strange way to hail another boat.  Then it came through again, "Sailboat in front of me heading South?".  Scott picked up the radio and answered "This is Rasmus, go to 17".  He did not go to 17 and then said, again in a very stressed voice, "Yeah, uh - are you guys heading South on the ICW".  Scott replied we were, and again told the man to go up a channel. Channel 16 is strictly a hailing and monitoring channel - not only is it poor form to carry on a conversation on this channel, if you chat for very long on it the Coast Guard will get on to sternly remind you.  We are constantly shocked at how many boaters don't know this.

Anyway...

He finally switches to 17 and says, "Yeah, uh...I don't know these waters and I...I just don't feel comfortable - would it be okay if I follow you?"  We replied that while we too didn't "know" the waters we had charts and a chart-plotter and would be happy to lead the way for him.  We did, however, think this was pretty strange.  Was he just planning to "follow" other boats all the way South?!

So we are motoring along - enjoying the beautiful day and the company of Scott's wonderful godfather Al, when again we hear on the radio something to the tune of, "Uh, yeah...sailboat I'm following - do you know if I can anchor to your port side over there in that shoal?" He sounded pretty panicked.  We all looked at each other confused.  "Go to 17" Scott replied.  They both did, and Scott continued, "Is everything okay?" Our panicked mariner replied, "No...god, no...my damn engine is smoking and I need to shut her down...I think I ran out the coolant, might need to add some wat....OH SH**!  Oh dammit!  The engine just died.  Oh crap....(more expletives)"

Again, Scott and I look at each other because a) we feel bad for this guy and b) he obviously doesn't know what he is doing.

We tell him we'll circle back around to help him out.  I get on the radio and ask him if he has Boat US towing insurance and he replies that he does.  We had originally thought about towing him ourselves, but quickly realized that doing so was unnecessary as there was no immediate "emergency".  Better to wait for Boat US.

"Oh crap..." he came back, "I don't know what to do... Aren't we in a shipping lane? I don't want to be swept out to sea".  Our charts and chart-plotter indicated we were not in a shipping lane (in fact, zero commercial vessels come through the sound we were in) and the current would be nil for the next 3-4 hours.  He was fine.  I called TowBoat US for him - and they said they'd be to him within the hour.  I felt bad just leaving a panicked person alone - so we told him we'd just sail around for a while (in case of emergency) until Boat US came with a tow.  Sometimes just the presence of another boat in the vicinity can ease one's nerves.  We've been there.

And that is what we did.

We figured we put a little coinage in the Karma bank.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

Running Aground

Everyone told us it would happen and we even bought BoatUS towing insurance to be safe - but I don't think Scott and I really ever thought we'd actually run aground.  I mean, how hard is it to stay in a channel?  Well, apparently it's not that easy 'cause we did it.  The situation was incredibly confusing; the channel was not well marked and the tide was low.  All the stars aligned and we kissed the bottom.  And then we became well acquainted with her.  The soft, muddy, sink right into it bottom outside of McClellanville, SC.  A catamaran who was passing us also ran aground  - in the channel.  Luckily for them, the wake of a passing boat was enough to free them.  We were not so lucky.

Thank god for getting BoatUS towing insurance.  We paid $150 US for unlimited towing.  Our little grounding today would have put us back over $700 US dollars without it.  Phew.  As Scott said, "Well...at least we now know the insurance was worth it.  I would have hated to waste $150 bucks".  That Scott, always trying to get the best bang for our buck.

We are back on our way and headed to Charleston, SC where we'll drop off my brother.  He'll be composing a guest post of the last couple days with us.  You should be excited, not only is he hilarious - he's had some rather interesting...insights.

Lesson learned:  If there is a fork in the road (or waterway), and you accidentally go down the one less traveled by (i.e. poorly marked) - go back where you began (i.e top of the fork) before you change your mind and take the more traveled route.


Love,
Brittany & Scott

I'm not fit for the Crows Nest...

The crows nest is the spot on old ships that was high up on the mast, where a young deck hand would stand for hours and hours scanning the horizon;  looking for land, reefs, other ships and whatever else might be a hazard to the boat.

I have learned that I am not fit for that position.

I had what I call "botched" Lasik eye surgery about 8 years ago and, well, it didn't work so well.  Apparently I "looked away from the light" which is why my vision is not 20/20.  It's a long story that ended with me wandering, nay - staggering - blindfolded, arms outstretched and waving, into a waiting room in a total drugged up daze like some creature from the living dead after which I passed out in a narcoleptic style sleep and fell onto the waiting room chairs in front of some nice folks waiting their turn.  My mom actually had to carry me out.  Not sure how many people opted out of Lasik that day, but I neglected when they said they'd "zap me again" to correct the problem.  No thanks!

All these years my eyesight hasn't been a problem.  I knew it wasn't perfect, but I am by no means blind.  Sure, I couldn't read road signs from afar and took turns going 30 mph, but doesn't everyone?

Apparently not.

Fast forward to present day.   Our safety relies on the heath of our eyes.  Looking for buoys on the horizon, checking for unusual wave breaks, flotsam, currents, harbors, lights, other boats...etc.  Lots of little tiny things to spot all over the place.

When my brother came to visit us while we were in Wisconsin (right after we left for this trip) he brought with him a nice new pair of eyeglasses.  "What do you think?" he asked me. "Super cool!  I love them!  Let me try them!" I exlaimed.

And in that instant, the world - I kid you not - became clear.  I could read the specials of the day! The neon bar sign! I could even make out the numbers on the dartboard! And, is it true? Can I read that sign across the street?! Holy crap!  I had no idea, but I am in dire need of glasses!

More than once this trip my eyesight has been cause for concern. Take this exchange for example:

Me:  "Hey Scott, can you come up here a second and confirm my next red buoy?"
Scott:  "Sure"
Me:  "It's right there, at 3 o'clock...right?"
Scott: "Um, no Brittany...that is a crane...on shore"
Me: "Oooops....ummmm...do you see it?  The buoy?"
Scott:  (instantly) "Yes, it's right there, right off the bow."
(Scott throws me a look of dreaded concern...almost as if he's asking are you kidding me?)
Me:  "Okay, thanks!  Carry on!"
Scott does not leave the cockpit.

So, one of the things on our list of "things to do" in NYC (besides laundry and shower, which take precedence at this moment) is to head to a Pearl Vision, and get me some eyeglasses!

Scott will feel much better about me being "on watch" when he knows I can actually distinguish a buoy from a crane on shore!

Love,
Brittany (& Scott)

The Funny thing about "Odds"

What would you say the odds are of us cruising along the Hudson River,  running over a submerged 2x6 plank of wood, only to have it lodge itself between our keel and our rudder*?

One in a thousand?  One in a million?

Either way, I think it's pretty damn rare.

Well, that happened to us about an hour ago.  I wish I was joking.

I was at the helm, when all of a sudden there was a muffled 'thud'.  We'd heard it before (you cannot avoid the debris you cannot see) so we weren't alarmed.  Then I noticed our speed was down.  Significantly down.  I didn't even need to look at the instruments to know.  Going 1800 RPM's usually got us going nearly 8 knots (with the current), and now we were going barely 5.  Not to mention the propeller was making a whizzing sound, as if it was working harder.  Houston, we have a problem.

At first I thought we had done something to our propeller.  Lucky for us there was a marina just to our right.  Right then and there I made the executive decision to pull in and haul out the boat.

I mean, you have got to be kidding me, right?!

So Scott took the helm and I went to the back of  the boat.  There was a significant current, so Scott did a circle to get back to the marina.  And that's when I saw it.  A 2x6 plank of wood pop up from the water.  And I just knew that's what our problem was.

"Try throttling up again" I yelled to Scott.

He did.  And sure enough, we moved along at our expected 8 knots - like buttah.  Hallelujah!

I mean - what in the heck are the odds of that?


We can't wait to see the fun surprises the Big Apple has in store for us.

Although, we did accidentally buy some lotto tickets in a bar when we thought we were playing Keno - who knows, maybe we'll strike it rich?

Stay tuned,

Brittany (& Scott)

*At least we think this is what happened.  It's so bizarre it's actually comical.

Potential Crisis: AVERTED!

I have already said it and thanked the Universe for it - Scott and I have been pretty dang lucky this trip.

What could have happened today is proof positive of this luck.  And a good lesson to be reminded of...

We were motoring down the Erie Canal, just as calm and peacefully as ever.  We had just crossed “Cross Lake” and were entering (what we thought was) the canal from the other side.  I was reading, Scott was at the helm.

“Oh look, we have an early waver!” Scott said, “A nice older lady in blue”.


Wavers, refer to the people along the canal that, obviously, wave to us.  Not everyone is a waver we have learned.  We’re not sure why - but some people just don’t wave back - aside from making the initial waver feel like an idiot, it seems pretty rude.  But we continue to do this.  Naturally, we are always happy to meet people on the banks that actually wave to us first.  Hence "early waver".  

I look up from my book, and sure enough there is a nice lady in blue...waving both her arms...over her head...frantically.  And yelling something.  Huh.  Pretty zealous this one, I thought.

“I think she’s trying to tell us something” Scott said.  

Ya think?

Scott slowed the engine and I turned down the stereo.

Hmmm...looks as though we've run aground, but we have not!  

We couldn’t make it out, but it sounded like she was telling us to...turn around?  That we would ‘hit’?  Scott throttled back some more.

She now had both her hands cupped around her mouth acting as a megaphone, “You missed the turn, TURN AROUND, you will RUN AGROUND”.

We looked at each other like “Huh” and then looked at our chartplotter.  We were thoroughly confused.  Everything looked fine on the plotter.

This can never be a paperless world.

Not wanting to risk running aground or ‘hitting’ whatever it was that we would hit, we turned around.

“Do you think she was just crazy or something?” Scott asked.

“Maybe?" I thought, "But I think we should call the next lock operator and ask him, maybe he can tell us something...” I suggested.

While Scott called the lock operator, I checked the paper charts we had. (Phew)

The lock operator, though very kind, offered little clarification other than “Was it woman or a kid?” after Scott told him of the waving person on the bank.  Apparently kids are real tricksters around here?  Who knows.

Then we saw it, right there on the paper chart.  The “State Ditch Cut” that was NOT on our chartplotter.  That was where we needed to go.  We had missed the (non-descript, unmarked) turn about a quarter mile back.

Had we continued on our merry way, and had that lovely woman in blue not come out to 'wave' at us, we would have run aground in 3 feet of water.  While running aground in our boat wouldn’t be the end of the world, it would be a real pain in the ‘A' and definitely cost us some time.

Bullet:  Dodged.

Thank you wonderful lady in blue for coming out of your home to wave at us - you were, by far, the best, most friendliest waver yet!

Lesson(s) learned:  

1) ALWAYS have paper charts.  Yes, even if you are on a relatively straightforward waterway that seems fool proof.

2) Wavers might not just be "waving" hello, they might be warning you of something.  Waving with two hands over head is indication of urgency (and the international "distress" signal), so pay attention.

Love,

Brittany (& Scott)

The Dog House

Did you know there are companies out there whose sole purpose is to provide watch dogs for places like junk yards and boat yards?

I sure didn't.  But, then again, I don't think too much about guard dogs at all.  Until I see something like this:

With no dog anywhere to be seen.

I had seen this little dog house, and figured it was for the owner's dog or the home of a former yard doggy who had crossed the "rainbow bridge".  That was until one of the guys at the yard, Bob, (who works, seemingly, every day on his beautiful wooden sailboat and is always one of the last to leave) said with a sigh as the warning alarm went off, signaling closing time;

"Well, I'd better get out of here.  Gotta be gone before the dogs show up..."

"What?  Dogs?  Show up?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, they have a security company that drops off three dogs.  Big, mean looking ones.  One of 'em gets chained to that dog house out there, the other two roam the yard."

Roam the yard!?! What the..!?!

He continued, "...They drop them off at night, and then pick them up in the morning."

Yikes. 

As if that wasn't enough - Sunday we realized on the drive home that we had left the yard without throwing away the leftover pizza we'd had for lunch (Boat yard tip: cleaning up after yourself is proper etiquette...yes, even in a boat yard...especially in a boat yard).  Being the good tenants we are, we called Russ at the yard to alert him to our faux pas.  He just laughed and said not to worry, that if any rodents get into the pizza, the dogs will get them...

"Oh yeah, raccoons, possums...you name it - they get 'em.  You should come here reeeal early one morning, you could have raccoons for breakfast!" he chuckled.  Charming.

Since learning this, when the "end of the day" alarm sounds at ten to six, we pack up with more haste than ever.  We don't want to run into this pup on the way out...or ever for that matter.

Hi, I'm Fido with "Attack K9" in Chicago.  I'm just "one of the team"!

Love,

Brittany, Scott & Fido

We've sanded the bottom....uh, now what!?!?!

If you haven't noticed, Scott and I are of the "lets cross that bridge when we come to it" variety.  We don't plan too much.  Partly because we like to keep things flexible, and partly (okay, mostly) because we don't know enough about what the heck we are doing to actually plan the next step.  Ah, the beauty of naivete.

Take the bottom of our boat, for instance.  We scraped and sanded the HECK out of it this past weekend.  We felt great; we accomplished a lot and I am pretty sure I developed some serious tone in my upper arms (I have asked more than one person to "feel my muscles").  We've been 'high' on all the work we did this past weekend that finally, yesterday, we just kind of looked at each other and said, "So, now what do we do?"

Well, the obvious answer is "paint the bottom".  Psh.  As IF anything is that cut and dry on a boat.  A quick "Google" search (can you tell that I *love* Google?) gives us about 8 million options to go through.  I just do not have that kind of time (or attention span for that matter).  So we ask around.  Of course everyone suggests something different.  The main problem we have is:  we're not exactly sure what we scraped and sanded off...(wince).

The bottom of a sailboat is a shockingly complicated thing.  Boats are submerged in water, and the tricky little H2O molecule is wily and nimble.  As such, you have to be VERY diligent to make sure those little molecules don't penetrate certain layers.  If it does, your boat gets blisters (or worse).  Yep.  A boat can get blisters....and they look just like, well, blisters.  Luckily, our boat has none (Bullet: dodged).  Typically, the bottom of the boat has MORE than a few layers paint....there is a gelcote (the ultimate H2O barrier, over the fiberglass), then some sort of primer, then a "barrier coat" and then a few coats of some type of anti-fouling bottom paint (the "offensive line" if you will).  We *think* we might have sanded down to the primer, or maybe we just took off a few years of anti-fouling?  We aren't really sure.  Ooopsie.  In addition - I just read how toxic paint dust is and how you should thoroughly protect yourself from it and not let it get on your skin. Check out my sister here:

Guess we should have been wearing protective suits.  Whoops.

 
When we were stripping the hull, one of the guys at the yard came over, took a look and asked "You gonna put an epoxy coat on her?"  I just looked at him, paint chips all over me, my hair a total mess, sweat dripping down my face and fogging up my goggles and shrugged.  That was my first clue that we were in for it.  The next clue came loud and clear when the yard's owner walked over and said "You guys stripping the bottom?!.... Oh man, you're reeeaaaally opening up a can of worms there!".  Awesome.  He was right.  Do you know the cost of bottom paint for a boat?  It runs (on average) $200-$300 a GALLON!  To make matters worse, you need a ridiculous amount of the stuff for multiple coats.  Covering our hull in dollar bills would be cheaper! The cost of all things "boat" just never ceases to amaze me...

But we'll figure it out.  And we'll continue to have fun doing it - learning and laughing at ourselves every step of the way.  Scott ruminated about how it's unfortunate you only become an "expert" at doing something AFTER you've done it (and messed it up, no doubt).  But I guess that's just life, isn't it?

Here's to clean bottoms!

Brittany & Scott