The leading category for “little things” making a difference in a cruising woman’s life is in the galley.  The more time we spend out cruising the more we realize how important is not stinting on good galley tools.  “Good sharp knives, great pots and pans, and my Fagor™ pressure cooker,” states Sandy of Columbine, and she is seconded in that by several other Admirals.   Mary of Camryka says, “A stainless steel pressure cooker costs more initially, but it’s one of those lasts-a-lifetime items, so it pays to buy a good one.”  That was exactly my thinking I when I splurged on stainless-steel nesting pots, and I wish I’d spent for a Calphalon™ square griddle.  My cheapo Teflon-coated aluminum one is the most used and abused pan I own, and I can’t replace it out here.

Electrical gizmos have much more of a place aboard than in the old days, requiring an inverter and, as Yvonne of Australia 31 says, “enough battery power not to scrimp.”  It may surprise you to learn that almost half the responding Admirals use a bread machine.  New models even remember where they are in the cycle should someone switch the inverter off!  Several Admirals are surprised how much they use the microwave, and several people mention vacuum-sealers, either the larger Foodsaver™ models or a simple little device that has a mini-heat strip to reseal plastic food packages – the Euro Sealer™ (“as seen on TV”) – that Katherine of Sangaris recommends.

Judy of Ursa Minor has long been an advocate of plastic cutting sheets; “They take next to no space, are super easy to clean even in a small sink on a boat, and make it much easier to have a clean cutting board handy as I switch between cutting veggies and meat.” I’ve also found them handy to place across shelves to keep stuff tumbling out when accessing lockers underway.  Judy also has neat salad-spinner bags; they fold away flat, but do as good a job as regular spinners. I’ve found them at Bed, Bath & Beyond in the US.

Cindy of  Tashmoo loves her Pampered Chef™ food chopper as a substitute for a full- bore food processor, Mary advises good kitchen shears to be kept exclusively for galley work as well as a top-opening can-opener that leaves no sharp edge, and Bette Lee of Quantum Leap puts a vote in for silicone bakeware, colanders, and measuring cups.  “They save loads of space, and don’t rust or rattle.”   And speaking of small joys, I suspect there isn’t an Admiral alive who doesn’t appreciate quality paper towels and Ziplocs™ wherever we can find them and green Evert- Fresh™ bags for keeping veggies fresh.

Decent dishware and flatware – so that you don’t feel you are camping out – is brought up by several Admirals.  Ellen of Cayenne III likes her new Corelle™ plates, while Lisa of Lady Galadriel actually has a stash of real china for entertaining. Since I’m partial to plain white plates, I actually prefer the upscale plastic-ware with non-skid bottoms from the Galleyware Company™, marketed in most boating stores.  For passages, Judy recommends double-bowled dog dishes that can’t tip!  Woof!

OK!  Out of the galley!  The next most commonly mentioned category is good lighting, especially for reading in berth areas, salon and cockpit. Also, “a boat can be a small space for one person to have a light on to read while the other tries to sleep,” says Mary. “A book light minimizes the disturbance.”  These days many people are using LED headlamps for this, especially ones with a red light for night passages, which you can also us for running lights in your dinghy!  On Tackless we have a tiny orange LED light wired into the head compartment as a night light, which is about as small a joy as they come.  Elsewhere, I’m rather partial to Alpenglow™ daylight fluorescent lights.  And speaking of not disturbing sleepers, earphones for our computer/ DVD setup means I don’t have to listen to my husband’s videos shoot up the world!

On board email is important to most cruisers, whether they connect by SSB, an amplified Wifi antenna, or sat phone.  Satellite radio is also something many cruisers enjoy these days.  “We started our cruising with XM Radio™ but lost the signal once we got south of Cuba so now have Sirius™,” says Cindy. “It is nice to keep up with news and sports and have the variety of talk, story and music that it provides. We love listening to the old time radio shows when we are on passages.” Where satellite radio doesn’t reach, iPods™ fill the breach.  Judy says, “While on watch at night I find that listening to audio books or podcasts I’ve downloaded helps keep me awake.”

Comfortable bedding also got multiple mentions.  Terri and Kimi of Delphinus put in a strong vote for the The Froli Mattress System™.  Not exactly a small thing, they insist, “That is our purchase of the year.  It’s as comfortable as a Tempurpedic™ mattress, but the air circulation beneath has eliminated the daily battle to dry out the moisture that used to collect between cushions and the wood below.   Sore backs and necks are gone!”  Similarly, Mary votes for feather pillows. “Contrary to speculation, they really haven’t gotten any more moldy or damp than foam — and I sure sleep better.”

One of the neatest ideas mentioned also came from Terri and Kimi. “Someone prior to us put three little bulkhead-based flower holders in our boat – three-sided teak boxes that hold a little plastic vase   We buy a bouquet of fresh flowers every so often to divide between the vases.  There is nothing as surreal and wonderful as smelling roses or lavender when bobbing around on a warm day.” A potted basil plant in the cockpit can be similarly as great for its brush-by aroma!

Several Admirals insisted on including a few nautical items.  “Without a doubt, it’s having a cockpit VHF radio (or radio with a cockpit mike),” says Linda of Serafin.  “A VHF in the nav station is useless when the engine is running and you can’t hear or reach it to talk.”   Jane of Cormorant votes for their “Watch Man” night-watch timer/alarm.  “The timer lets me read or listen to a book without risking getting so involved I forget to keep watch.  If the person on watch doesn’t push reset within one minute, it emits an ear-piercing scream, so the person sleeping can relax knowing that the one on watch can’t have gone asleep or–worst scenario–overboard.”

I haven’t been able to include all the suggestions I received, nor are all the ones included strictly “little things,” but the fact that so many of these were shared by Admirals cruising different parts of the worlds suggests that they do, in fact, make a big difference in our lives.

This article was published in the December 2008 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Related articles (on this website)

• The Cruising Galley (Admiral’s Angle column #35)
• By Dark of Night (Admiral’s Angle column #34)

Consider the story of Sheri Schneider of the Gozzard 44 Procyon. After many years of preparation and short-range trips to the Bahamas and Maine, Sheri and her husband Randy — in their 40s, fit and with Randy recently retired from the US Coast Guard — left Beaufort, NC bound for the Panama Canal by way of the Western Caribbean. They had a long-planned rendezvous with friends they’d made in the Bahamas to transit the canal and head for the Pacific. All went well on the transit, and they got an auspicious start on their first long passage – six days from Panama to the Galapagos – with near perfect sailing conditions.

On their first morning in Puerto Ayora, however, Randy woke with stomach pain. “We blamed it on the arrival lunch with our friends the day before and continued on with an island tour. But throughout the day and the following night, Randy’s conditioned worsened, and after some fruitless visits to the local clinic we realized the problem was becoming serious.” Thanks to their membership in DAN*, Sheri was able to make one call and the medical evacuation to Quito was arranged. Within a half hour of arriving in the emergency room, Randy was in surgery for a perforated ulcer!

Being sick in a foreign country where the language is different and the standard of care may not seem to measure up to what we’re used to is an anxious experience many cruisers encounter in their travels. Likewise, leaving the boat in an unfamiliar anchorage does not help. Yet both these experiences went well for Sheri and Randy because of two fundamental assets: membership in DAN, which coordinated every aspect of the emergency evacuation, and friendships with other cruisers they could rely on. Unfortunately, because the doctor in Quito recommended six weeks of recuperation, Sheri and Randy were forced to watch those friends sail on without them.

“When we finally departed for the Marquesas, we made great time, averaging over 160 miles a day the first nine days.” On May 8, however, with 1266 miles to go, a badly-timed lurch knocked Randy over and he fell onto the cockpit table hitting his back and his head. “At first we were most worried about a concussion, but the next morning Randy woke with major stomach pains again. “ Although the symptoms were somewhat different, by the 10^th, he could no longer manage his watches and was out flat below. He could not keep food, medication or water down, and he had not passed anything in days. Abruptly Sheri found herself single-handing a forty-four foot boat, standing all the watches, doing the navigation, handling the sails, even attending to the engine. They were halfway across the Pacific. “I was very much afraid Randy might die.”

From their first boat, a Macgregor 26’, Sheri and Randy worked at their sailing together. Obviously his Coast Guard career gave Randy a huge head start, but he insisted Sheri learn everything he did, and she was lucky that he was a good teacher, “a natural explainer.” They continued to learn together as they graduated over the next twelve years from the Macgregor in California and Oregon to a C&C 37 in Newport, RI, and finally in North Carolina to Procyon which they had built for them. Having the boat built meant they could have her fitted just the way they wanted, and four years later Sheri would have cause to appreciate the cutter-rig’s furling sails, controls led back to the cockpit, integrated cockpit navigation, and the single electric winch installed in consideration of Sheri’s bad shoulder.

But to Sheri on her own in the Pacific, the most important piece of equipment on Procyon was their SSB radio. Although their closest friends were long arrived in the Marquesas, Sheri could still be in touch with them via the morning crossing net. Alerted to her crisis, other boats on passage joined in to lend moral support by radio throughout the day, and three nearby Norwegian-flagged boats listening to the net changed course to maneuver into VHF range. Additionally Dr. Tom Walker of the catamaran Quantum Leap, although 500 miles ahead, daily talked Sheri through monitoring Randy’s vitals and administering treatments (enemas fashioned from a first aid kit syringe and some heat shrink tubing administered ten minutes every hour in an effort to ease the suspected blockage and combat dehydration.) “You can’t get that kind of support over a satellite phone.”

While Sheri juggled being both a full-time skipper and nurse, her friends, recognizing that Randy’s deteriorating condition required evacuation, took on contacting the authorities. Working with the USCG and French Navy, a nearby container ship enroute from Panama to Papeete was diverted to a rendezvous. Meanwhile, the Norwegian boats converged on Procyon and launched a dinghy to facilitate the transfer to the 700’ vessel.

This was Sheri’s worst moment. The ship could spare no crew to help with Procyon. Would Randy’s care aboard be any better than she was giving? Could Randy last the 2-3 days it would take the ship to reach Papeete? And should she go with him…which would mean abandoning the boat?

Suspecting he would refuse to go on that basis, Sheri decided to stay with their boat, but watching the ship steam away after Randy was hoisted aboard was an awful moment. “How would I find him? How would I get news? Had I made the right choice? As long as he was in the bunk below, I’d known I could count on him for a hug and to answer questions. Now I was on my own.” That night Jan and Eva on Necessity shadowed her and kept watch for both boats so Sheri could try for some much-needed sleep, but all the uncertainties continued to haunt her.

The morning brought good news. Unknown to them, the container ship had a French woman doctor as passenger who’d promptly put Randy on an IV. Hydrated and on a stable platform, his insides finally got a break, and the blockage, probably an intestinal adhesion from the surgery that had broken away in the fall, passed. Randy rebounded overnight and was able to tell her himself on the morning net.

Unfortunately, with 800 miles still remaining to Nuku Hiva, the wind was dying. Motoring now, Sheri had to deal with such practical issues as fuel supply and a clogging filter. Alerted to her concerns, their friends on Endangered  Species and Wind Pony in Nuku Hiva filled all spare fuel jugs and shuffled crew so that one boat could motor out to meet her with help. “I can’t tell you what it felt like when I saw Wind Pony motoring over the horizon, blasting Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” over their speakers.”

Now, fifteen months (and some thorough medical checkups later), Sheri and Randy sit on the lovely Procyon shifting gently on her mooring in Musket Cove as Sheri tells me this story. Around us are moored many of the players from this saga, friends for life. The Schneiders have sailed 5000 more miles since the Marquesas, including the vigorous roundtrip to New Zealand, with no further problems, and they have many more they mean to sail. “I didn’t want to go, you know,” says Randy. “It was a fait accompli by the time I knew about it. But I knew she would be okay. She had the abilities to do it.”

“And that’s the point of telling this story,” says Sheri, “that women need to know. They need to know about evacuation insurance, and they need to know about the importance of an SSB radio and how to use it to get help and support from nearby. But most of all they need to know their boat systems and how to sail the boat if the worst happens. Women came up to me afterward and called me a hero, but there’s not a thing heroic about it. It’s just being able to do what you have to.”

*DAN or Diver’s Alert Network is not just for scuba divers. Join at http://www.diversalertnetwork.org

This article was published in the December 2007 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.

Related articles (on this website)

• Peace of Mind—Emergency Skills (Admiral’s Angle column #4)
• Taking Care of Ourselves (Admiral’s Angle column #30)

Most of my Admirals have, like me, been cruising long enough that, when they started, their onboard options were the same ones that served generations before us. As Jean of Jean Marie says about their first circumnavigation, “We were only able to call home from land once when we were about to depart and once again we’d arrived. For detailed news, we depended totally on snail mail, and when a letter was waiting it was a highlight.” Getting snail mail in far-flung ports required an itinerary that both they and their contacts back home could stick to, and breaking news of, say, a sick parent might reach them weeks late!

As little as eight years ago, when Don and I set out on our open-ended cruise, our onboard communications options were only one step higher…but it was a big step. Our HF radio transceiver (SSB and Ham) gave us access to the give-and-take of radio nets through which we could talk to other cruisers or get access to help – medical or mechanical – via phone patches to experts. HF radio also brought us voice weather and , with a computer, weatherfax via the easy addition of a software program and a demodulator. We could even receive phone messages and make return phone calls home via the Marine Operator. I couldn’t (and still can’t) imagine cruising without my radio.

Besides being unable to receive calls directly, the big problem with phone calls by radio, besides cost, was that at least one half of the conversation was open to eavesdropping! To make a private phone call, we had to get off the boat, buy a phone card and find a phone booth.

The advent of email began to change things for cruisers. Initially, it was only available ashore in Internet cafes. Fortunately, most of the out-of-the-way places cruisers like to go quickly embraced the Internet café concept, since it was often a huge jump forward in communications for the locals. About the same time, Pocketmail became popular, enabling cruisers to compose short emails on a calculator-sized device and send from anywhere they could get a phone connection. Ironically, one of the biggest stumbling blocks in this new age was persuading family members back home, often older parents, to get computers and get connected.

Internet cafes and Pocketmail still depended on being ashore in a port with at least a phone connection. Everything changed with the introduction of Airmail . This wonderful software program coupled cruisers’ onboard computers via TNC modems to their HF radios and brought email right aboard, whether in port or in the middle of the ocean.

Today, almost every cruiser I know has either a Winlink (Ham version) or Sailmail (commercial Marine version) email address or both. With a General Class Ham license, a cruiser can send up to 30 minutes of email a day through more than a hundred volunteer stations around the world at no charge. Without a ham license, or if needing to do business-related communication, a cruiser can connect to any of Sailmail’s commercial stations around the world 15 minute a day for a reasonable annual fee. With onboard email, not only have cruisers been able to reassure folks back home with regular communiqués and position reports but to stay in touch with each other as well, a revolution in the connectedness of our worldwide floating community. Winlink and Sailmail have also brought us increased access to weather information, downloadable by requesting specific products to be put in your e-mailbox, as well as to remote troubleshooting of onboard equipment malfunctions via email exchanges with manufacturers’ tech reps.

The one thing radio has not been able to bring us is the Internet. Cruisers are heavy users of the Internet. We use it to research passage information and weather (from sources like Jimmy Cornell’s Noonsite and NOAA); share experiences through personal websites; pay bills via online banking; locate spare parts; book air travel home; keep up with the news; and to make international Skype voice calls at a fraction of overseas telephone rates. We can even collect our radio email, Winlink or Sailmail, right online via their built-in Telnet Options.

There are three ways to bring the Internet on board. The simplest is to bring your boat into a harbor or marina that has WiFi, a service which seems to be proliferating everywhere. While the built-in Wifi modems in laptops aren’t designed to work over distances much wider than the inside of a house, the addition of an external WiFi antenna and amplifier can increase reception range up to several miles.

Coastal cruisers in many countries can often get decent cell phone service, and another way to get Internet aboard, is a cellular broadband card. Cell reception can also be enhanced with an external antenna and amplifier; however, it’s good to remember that cell companies have little incentive to aim their towers out to sea. In the US, cellular service contracts are often inflexible annual commitments with one company. In Fiji we are getting Internet on board Tackless II through a cellular card for a reasonable month-by-month charge. In Europe, Mary of Iwanda tells us, cellular is a good option. “Cruisers can purchase an ‘unlocked’ cell phone (or broadband card) into which you insert a SIM card chip for the amount of prepaid service you want, changing the SIM card in each country you visit to minimize long distance charges.”

Last but not least are satellite telephones. Out here in the Pacific, for example, Iridium’s worldwide service with special compression software lets cruisers get email and weather anytime of day in a minute or two download. We can call home from anywhere for special birthdays or a forgotten Mother’s Day, pay credit card bills, argue with insurance companies, even call the Coast Guard if we’re sinking. Being portable, we can take it in our abandon-ship bag, and it’s the perfect backup should a dismasting bring the antenna down with the rig. We can even have Internet access….. if we’re willing to pay the per-minute price.

So, you see, it is really much less a question of whether you can stay in touch than how. Obviously, not every cruiser will have every system. It will largely depend on where you are cruising and how much you want to spend. Most cruisers today are equipped to take advantage of a variety of options in particular situations and to cover different needs. Radio may not be able to give you the Internet, but WiFi, cellular and satphones can’t give you your cruising community.

An unexpected outcome of all this technology is that communication can become a burdensome obligation. Emails need replies, websites have to be updated, and, most importantly, radio skeds – where someone keeps track of your position on passage –must be kept. You may find you are spending more time than you want “online” instead of “out experiencing”.

Plus, there is one more caveat to all this hi-tech stuff; any or all of it can break. “People get used to hearing from you,” says Jane of Cormorant, a Corbin 39 currently heading for Indonesia and Singapore, “and if the communication stops, they panic and think you sank! We sometimes regret the loss of some of the freedom we used to have. There was something quite nice and liberating about really being out of touch.”

Contributing Admirals: Jean Service, Jean Marie; Mary Verlaque, Iwanda; Donna Abbott, Exit Only; Jane Lothrop, Cormorant; Marti Brown, HF Radio for Idiyachts, plus others. (And thanks very much to my webmaster, Sherry McCampbell on Soggy Paws)

This article was published in the September 2007 issue of Latitudes and Attitudes.