After 22 months of upgrades, projects, renovations, busted knuckles, bloodied toes, cursing, drinking, more cursing and drinking, we are as ready as we’re going to be. We are going somewhere, people!!

Our cast of characters includes my husband, Captain Ken, the First Mate (me), Ken’s teenage son (Ken ...Read more]]> So here it is… finally – our shakedown cruise!

After 22 months of upgrades, projects, renovations, busted knuckles, bloodied toes, cursing, drinking, more cursing and drinking, we are as ready as we’re going to be. We are going somewhere, people!!

Our cast of characters includes my husband, Captain Ken, the First Mate (me), Ken’s teenage son (Ken Jr.) and our cat, Spinnaker aboard Makana, our Morgan 384, and a similar crew (minus a cat) aboard Eagles Wings, our friends’ Morgan Out Island.

Two weeks, from Gulfport, Mississippi to Port St. Joe, Florida and back (with some stops along the way).

The night before we set sail we stay aboard in the harbor so we can get an early start. My brain won’t shut off and sleep just doesn’t seem to be working out, so I very ungracefully stumble over the Captain out of the V-berth before dawn, and see the cat perched perfectly still on the galley counter. She is staring at the sleeping teen in the quarter berth – I suspect she is plotting to steal his breath, and I make a mental note to monitor her creepiness.

Captain Ken says your crew can make you look really good or really bad. The relative inexperience of this First Mate tends to lean more towards “mediocre”. Sometimes our docking is smooth and impressive. Sometimes it’s a clown show.

Aware that our dock friends will be seeing us off, I’m fully expecting the circus music to be blaring…

Day 1

7:55 AM we cast off the dock lines.

The First Mate doesn’t drop a single line in the water – not one! Alright! Of course my excitement is short lived as my thoughts of a 15 degree heel are squashed by the fact that we have no wind. Sails are up but the motor is running.

About an hour into our journey our newly installed (second hand) autopilot, Striker, is being a jerk. He is meandering and swerving like a distracted driver on a cell phone. The Captain is fixing to give him an attitude adjustment that may not end well for either of them.

Striker vs Captain

All this swerving makes me think he may have had one too many and I take a quick inventory of the ship’s bar. But, by early afternoon Striker seems to have settled down and sobered up. I’m honing some mad fly swatter skills.

Day 2

The overnight watches went well, but the Captain and I pretty much spent most of the night in the cockpit taking turns napping. We motor sailed all night and I’ve started to strongly dislike the noise.

The lady of Eagles Wings and I chatted a bit on the radio while we were both on watch, and I figured as long as I still had her in sight all was good.

At about 7:45 AM while the Captain was below deck napping, the chart plotter said “Caution: Missile Test Area”. Wonder if I need to ask him about that?

I have Eagles Wings to my Starboard and she is sailing fearlessly through without hesitation, so I guess we’re good, right?

Finally about mid-day we have enough wind to shut this motor off! I’m grateful for the silence and the dolphins playing at the bow. The closer we got to Port St. Joe, the sportier the sail became. There’s water splashing over the bow and the boat is rocking and rolling.

This was a lot of fun, except for Spinnaker who we discovered finds a sporty sail a bit nauseating. A shout out to the person who invented disinfecting wipes…

Only 36 hours in and already a few new traditions were being forged aboard Makana: when dolphins come to visit you stop whatever you are doing and scurry up to the bow to enjoy the entertainment. If Son of a Son of a Sailor comes up on the playlist, the Captain and First Mate stop their conversation mid-sentence and sing along word for word.

Meanwhile, the teenager has been asleep more than he has been awake, and I secretly wonder if the cat’s breath – stealing stare is to blame.

We anchored up after dark in Port St. Joe, put up our fancy new wind catcher, opened all hatches and ports guided by the forecast of no rain.

But, we made a rookie mistake in trusting that forecast and at about 3 AM said un-forecasted rain came. Mad dash to close up hatches and ports! The Captain had an entertaining wrestling match with the wind catcher.

Day 3

Plans for some serious beach time!

While I was in the galley washing the breakfast dishes Captain and the teenager worked on lowering the dinghy into the water. We keep ours on the deck and the outboard motor sits on the stern rail, so we really flirt with disaster when it’s time to move that thing around.

I hear the Captain say to let it down slowly, followed by something falling, footsteps running all over the deck…
“Get the boat hook!”
“Does that piece float?”
“Should I jump in and get that?”

That ruckus was followed by clapping and cheering coming from Eagles Wings. All I know is, the dinghy was in the water, right side up, and the motor was attached. I probably don’t need to know anything more.

So, we spent hours at a pretty little beach emptying our coolers of their beer supplies.

At our exclusive beach in Port St. Joe

While heading back to the boats, our outboard decided to take a break and leave us stranded 50 yards from where we frolicked. We got a tow from Eagles Wings’ dinghy. Our outboard is feeling the wrath of the Captain.

Day 4

I’m thinking the dinghy motor is in cahoots with Striker. The Captain seems to have things sorted out so he and the teenager take it for a spin… a very short spin. Let’s call the first half of today “outboard motor rebuild”.

Observing the Captain’s method of disassembling the motor with all of its small, non-floating pieces while it is still attached to the dinghy, which is still in the water, seems to me like maybe not the best idea. But, I’m not offering my opinion to a frustrated Captain at this time. Going to work on my tan.

Final consensus of both Captains: bad fuel.

Day 5

Anchored near Panama City

Mother Nature was pretty cranky last night, and we are sailing out of Port St. Joe in the rain this morning. But, we found a beautiful anchorage in Panama City! This is where we had perhaps the most bizarre experience of the trip.

After some afternoon beach time (I’m sensing a theme here), we enjoyed a fantastic steak dinner aboard Eagles Wings. While on deck enjoying drinks, a voice was calling out from the pitch black. A small boat with no lighting and a very intoxicated skipper came into view.

It was a really weird encounter – he said he was from a neighboring houseboat, and his ramblings included a ten minute dissertation on thick cut bacon, an invite to breakfast, and an ominous warning of “it’s real nice in here now, but wait until about two or three in the morning”.

Well, his warning didn’t disappoint, and at 2:30 AM the winds picked up to 25 – 30 knots and rocked and rolled us for a bit.

Day 6

More rain. The Captains are conferring on our next move. I’m calculating if I’ve collected enough rain water to wash some clothes that are talking back to me.

Eagles Wings needed a generator part sent via overnight delivery, and we get hooked up at a local yacht club for the evening. Hmmm… shore power (which means we can run air conditioning), an opportunity to refill water tanks and get more ice, you know what? Count us in!

Let me tell you, the folks at this little yacht club in Panama City were some of the most friendly, accommodating, fantastic people I’ve ever met. We enjoyed a delicious lunch and outstanding service.

Day 7

Teenager training for Olympic sleeping

It didn’t take long for the crews of both vessels to get spoiled by the benefits of being hooked up to shore power. I think the teenager might be training for the sleeping Olympics.

The generator part arrived for Eagles Wings (hand delivered down the dock by the yacht club staff), and the two Captains got it installed with only a little bit of cursing.

It was still early so we sailed back to the anchorage from the night before. After some rum-flavored courage, the two Captains, myself and our teenager (minus the rum-flavored courage) wandered over to the houseboat of the late night visitor. We figured, for our own peace of mind, we should investigate. Talk of the possibility of finding bones of missing mariners on the houseboat carried on until we got over to his place. What we found was absolutely the opposite of what we thought!

A beautiful, home built two story house boat, nicely appointed and furnished, and the very friendly (still very intoxicated) owner who gave us a full tour of the place! He was delighted to share his story of building it and where it has been. He invited us back any time we were in the area. I have to admit, I was quite relieved…

Day 8

A sporty sail to Destin is forecasted.

I gave the cat some sea sick preventative (and probably should have considered some for myself and the teenager – but who knew?). The forecast didn’t disappoint and we enjoyed some big swells and a very dicey sail/motor into the inlet. Makana even did a little surfing.

We decided to go out for a nice dinner, enjoyed a cool shower and was looking forward to a good sleep, until the cat flushed out – gasp! A cockroach! There will be no sleep for any aboard! Captain Ken dumps out the entire wet locker so the cat can look for the roach, but the cat declines and curls up for a nap instead.

Emptying lockers on a cockroach hunt

Day 9

Happy Flag Day! Raise the black, thieves! Destin is a blast.

We spent the day marinating in waist deep clear water at Crab Island, losing count of how many beers it takes before you think performing stunts on a rented paddle board is a good idea.

Paddleboarding – not exactly perfect form!

The lady of Eagles Wings decides to try hot Cajun boiled peanuts that vendors in little boats are peddling. We have now discovered an obsession that we still cannot let go of…

Day 10

Destin

We decide to spend another day in Destin due to predicted rough seas and unsafe conditions in the inlet. Tough gig.

I notice my skin looks like leather and the skin on my feet has a subtle burning sensation. I wonder if having wet feet for ten days is a problem? Eh – who cares. I have beer, ocean and hot Cajun boiled peanuts.

Day 11

Pulled anchor early to head over to Big Lagoon near Pensacola. Three to five foot seas and ten to fifteen knot winds predicted. The cat, teenager and I partake in some sea sick preventative this time. Both ships punch through the inlet easily.

I agreed with the three to five foot seas but not a lick of wind! The drone of the motor and the diesel fumes wafting into the cockpit makes me want to look into a sculling oar. I ask the Captain if that’s feasible. We could make the engine room into a fantastic fridge/freezer combo! Right? I’m fully aware this isn’t actually an option…

Day 12

The Captain is still concerned about the stowaway cockroach. The cat was alerting to something in the headliner which renewed the roach panic. I try to talk the crew down off the ledge… and the Captain of Eagles Wings brings us some bug killer.

Minds are eased and we enjoy a great day exploring Fort McCree, marinating in salt water and watching the Blue Angels practice.

Day 13

Roberts Bayou anchorage

Big Lagoon has been so still – no breeze at all. I begin to wonder how it is that one can sweat continuously for days on end and not die? I think the teenager is counting the minutes until he can get off the boat.

We pull anchor and head out to relocate to Robert’s Bayou. The teenager mentions he awoke to find the cat giving him the breath stealing stare. I’m convinced something is up with that little fuzzy thing.

In Robert’s Bayou the adults enjoy Bushwackers at Pirate’s Cove on the recommendation of Eagles Wings crew. I don’t know what exactly is in those drinks but I think it is actually crack for sailors. I had to get a T-shirt from this place…

Day 14

Awoke to find the cat plotting to steal MY breath now! The Captain and I are surprisingly chipper after an unknown number of Bushwackers followed by the adults of both crews polishing off a bottle of rum aboard Makana. Side note – the teenager found us at our most entertaining that night.

We’re headed toward either Pettit Bois or Horn Island, depending on the wind (like, if there is any wind). The winds were actually gusty in Mobile Bay and I’m on high alert.

I’ve heard people say if you’re thinking about reefing your sails, you should just do it. So, after having this conversation for about ten minutes, a big gust caught our sails (and we had full sails out), Makana heeled hard to starboard, the sails went for a salt water dip and the Captain fought to regain control with his feet on the wall of the cockpit and his elbow touching the floor.

I grabbed for the coaming board, lifeline, whatever I could to keep from flying off the port side and crashing into the sleeping teenager (who was now wide awake). Anything on the port side that was not strongly secured was now somewhere else. Sea water poured over the starboard gunnel and into the cockpit. It was pretty “exciting” but not in a really good way.

Once the Captain regained control, I marched right down below, grabbed my harness, clipped in and marched my happy butt up to the mast and reefed that sail down!

After the initial startled feeling subsided, I was angry because we knew better. I spent the next half hour texting the lady of Eagles Wings all about it. (I’m having a hard time letting go of my constant connection to technology).

We made it to Petti Bois Island, anchored, ate and went to bed.

Makana at sunset, anchored at Petti Bois Island

Day 15

I can’t believe our adventure is coming to an end.

We sailed toward Gulfport and even though we finally had twenty knots of wind, it was directly off our nose. I wish we could have snapped a photo of our two amazing, tough boats sailing toward the harbor side by side.

We were greeted at the dock by our wonderful marina neighbors and friends who were curious and excited to hear about our adventures on the high seas! Queue the circus music for the docking fiasco.

I would say this was one of the greatest adventure of my life so far, and I was so lucky to have my family and great friends to share it with. The crews of both boats are already talking of the next adventure together.

On another side note, while doing some post-voyage cleaning the roach was located; squished under a rug outside of the ship’s head, and very dead and probably for quite some time. You had one job, cat.

Things I learned:

• Running the motor for any length of time annoys me.
• You can never have enough sunscreen
• Blue crabs enjoy spoiled meat thrown overboard
• Sea sick preventative is very helpful, however sleeping for almost an entire day is a disappointing side effect.
• It’s impossible to have a playlist everyone likes
• When discussing the possibility of needing to reef sails, shut up and get it done
• I’m much better at this than I thought.

About Tracy Mazzeo

Tracy on the journey back home

Tracy, her husband Ken and cat Spinnaker live aboard Makana, their Morgan 384 sailboat in the Florida Keys. They cruise every chance they get with plans to cruise full time in the next couple of years.

They have spent the last three years sailing and refurbishing Makana, starting on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi and then moving to their current marina home in Tavernier.

Many repairs, upgrades and sailing adventures have been documented on their S/V Makana Facebook page.

Learn more

• My first sailing experience by Tracy Mazzeo
• My first time on a sailing boat – or why women don’t want to go sailing with their husbands by Signe Storr

Why? The answer lies in the children that we have met living aboard boats with their families.

The cruising kids that we have known have been active and knowledgeable, curious about the sea, other people, and the great ...Read more]]> There is no topic that we have covered as often and as thoroughly as going sailing with children aboard.

Why? The answer lies in the children that we have met living aboard boats with their families.

The cruising kids that we have known have been active and knowledgeable, curious about the sea, other people, and the great big world they sail. They tend to have loving, respectful relationships with their parents, and are at ease with adults as well as children of different ages and backgrounds. We have seen them grow up to be creative, engaged, caring adults.

Society is all too ready to discourage families that want to go cruising. So, we want to counteract that by giving families as much information (and inspiration) as we can to help them decide whether to go sailing, and if so, how to do it.

Quite a few cruising families have told their stories and shared their advice on Women and Cruising. 20+ families have participated in our “12 Questions for Sailing Families” series in the past 6 years.

Five children so far have written in our “Cruising Kids Speak” series. And a growing number of cruising Moms and children have written for the Women and Cruising blog.

 If you are thinking about going cruising as a family, explore the Women and Cruising site and get to know these sailors through the articles that they have written.

And here is another resource: Several of these cruising families have written books that will inform and inspire you in pursuing your dreams and your plans. Enjoy!

Voyaging with Kids – A Guide to Family Life Afloat
By Behan Gifford, Sara Dawn Johnson and Michael Robertson, 2015

Behan Gifford and the s/v Totem family were one of the first contributors to our “12 Questions for Sailing Families”.

When they first wrote in 2010, they were just starting out.

Since then, they have circumnavigated, maintained an excellent blog, and together with two other cruising families, written an excellent, thorough guide on voyaging with children.

The book is available in both print and ebook.

Lesson Plans Ahoy (Third Edition): Hands-on Learning for Sailing Children and Home Schooling Sailors 
By Nadine Slavinski, 2013, 2014, 2015

Nadine also wrote:
- Lesson Plans To Go: Hands-on Learning for Active and Home Schooling Families
- Cruising the Caribbean with Kids: Fun, Facts, and Educational Activities

Merlin’s Voyage
By Emmanuelle Buecher-Hall, 2014

Emmanuelle and the Merlin family also contributed to the original “12 Questions for Sailing families” series.

They built a catamaran in South Africa, then sailed away crossing the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans, before settling in Australia.

Inspired by the voyage, Emmanuelle wrote the delightful Merlin’s Voyage, a book written for young children. In the story, Merlin is a curious catamaran which carries a family with young kids from South Africa to the Pacific.

It is available as an ebook or paperback, in French and in English.

Child of the Sea: A Memoir of a Sailing Childhood
By Doina Cornell, 2012

In 1975, when Doina was 7, the Cornell family left their home port in London, England, and set off cruising.

Over the next 6 years, the family circumnavigated. This is the story of their experiences from the child’s perspective.

Doina is one of the many wonderful examples of the formative effects of a cruising childhood.

As a mother, teacher, writer, and district councilor in England, Doina is a passionate champion for the environment and for tolerance and diversity.

Child of the Sea is available in paperbook, ebook and audiobook.

Boat Girl: A Memoir of Youth, Love, and Fiberglass
Melanie Neale, 2012

Melanie also wrote:
Boat Kid: How I Survived Swimming with Sharks, Being Homeschooled, and Growing Up on a Sailboat

Convergence: A Voyage through French Polynesia
By Sally-Christine Rodgers, 2014

This beautiful book written by Women and Cruising contributor Sally-Christine Rodgers comes with a bonus: all proceeds from the book are donated to marine conservation.

Sally Christine and her husband, Randy Repass, founder of West Marine, designed and built a custom Wylie 65 ketch.

Sally-Christine describes the design of the boat and then the 3,000 mile voyage to the Marquesas they undertook with their new boat, accompanied by their 9-year-old son, and another family with two 4-year-old twins. She describes their experiences in the beautiful islands of the South Pacific, which she illustrates with superb photography.

The journey she recounts is both descriptive and personal – throughout she writes as a sailor, wife, mother, lover, and passionate advocate for care of the marine environment.

Next week, I will highlight another collection of books for sailors and sailing wanna-be’s on the theme of Voyage Planning.

Many thanks to Women & Cruising for inviting me to contribute to your blog. I’m French and English is a second ...Read more]]> Hello ! My name is Valérie, I’m 55, and I sail with my husband François, 67, on our sailing yacht, Cybèle 17, an OVNI 445, in Scandinavian. We live year round on her, on water.

Many thanks to Women & Cruising for inviting me to contribute to your blog. I’m French and English is a second language for me: thank you, Gwen Hamlin, for correcting mistakes I may have made writing this in English.

As a first topic on this cruising blog, I thought it could be useful to share how we went about leaving.

• How we decided to go cruising;
• How we decided – eventually – to sell our house, and not buy a new one;
• How we decided to dare – as I often say – to live our own life, and not the life the others would like us to live.

Because the most difficult part is to DECIDE.

François and I met in 2002, in Brittany, France.

He had sailed since age eleven, mostly on his father’s successive sailing boats, and he owned at the time of our meeting an 8 meter long motor vessel.

I had sailed on dinghies since my youngest age, so we both were accustomed to sailing. I love traveling, he loves sailing. Our very first private conversation turned around boats. It seemed that we could be a good match.

Since François still had ten years more at least to work, and I just had begun to work on my own as a business consultant, we had some time for our dreams to mature. All of our six children (three for each of us) were either grown up or adolescents.

Because of our 12 year age difference, my first idea was to let him go on his own, while I continued to work. Then I could join him in warm and safe places. We even had a market survey done for the opening of a chandlery shop in Ireland which I’d run, while he was sailing! But the market survey gave us negative results.

With time the idea to leave and sail together took shape, as our relationship grew stronger, and after we got married in 2008, it no longer made sense for me to let him go alone !

Wedding

After we met, everything we bought or created was conceived for just the 10 year term until we could leave. Our common house, my company, the bigger motor vessel that we bought for criss-crossing French and British seas, were all about waiting until we would eventually have more time.

We knew we would leave, and we shared that intent with everyone around us, family, friends, customers. They all were prepared. That was an important point. There was no surprise, and they all had plenty of time to get used to the idea.

François collected information and experiences from everywhere he could: magazines, web forums, training. He knew that we had to choose a boat, because of a program and not the opposite. And he wished to sail far, and safe.

An aluminium sailboat, with a centerboard, had always been the one he was dreamt of: safe, secure, and able to sail in shallow waters or lay up on sand when possible.

We checked out many different boats, different brands, always together, and the more we discussed, the more fine-tuned our wishes became.

Year round sailing was a certainty. I wished to have space for us, but also to receive friends and family, ideally two non-adjacent cabins, two bathrooms, and a storage/working space.

Of course, we also talked about the program. Our dream roughly was to spend the first two or three years up north in Scandinavia, come back over Great Britain and Ireland to France, cross over to South America, and eventually to come back to the Mediterranean.

I must say that for me, my motivation was more to travel than to sail. For me, sailing was a means to travel, so I never cared that he made the decisions about sailing.

Our roles were also set from the beginning : he would be the captain, and I the mate. No discussion, and there’s always only one captain aboard. This situation doesn’t avoid discussions, sometimes animated. But it’s important to agree on main projects.

All through that process of maturating plans, the key words were : COMMUNICATION & LEARNING and not only between us as a couple, but, of course among our relatives and friends. Our project became theirs.

While writing « learning » I must say, that mostly François did the learning. My motivation was not strong enough to learn much before leaving. I already knew the basics of sailing, we spent all our vacations for ten years on the water, and I didn’t want to learn more. I got no special license. I wasn’t obliged to. I wasn’t not the Captain And now, it doesn’t matter. I can steer as well as he, and take my night’s watches.

Keeping or not keeping a house ? This topic was a very important decision to take. But it took hours of discussion, and it came step by step.

We had bought our house a few months after meeting. We looked into keeping it and renting it, but we didn’t want to take on the anxieties of renting.

The main idea is this : No troubles, no worries. We wanted to enjoy our sailing life without having to worry about anything in France, for which we might have had to come back or spend time – and money – to solve.
Money, of course, was an important factor. Since I’m not retired and get no pension, and François’ pension isn’t so substancial, we had to think about restricted expenses.

But for François it was difficult from the beginning to imagine leaving without a « chez moi », a home. We first had a look in Brittany around places where we would like to live and buy a house. We found places, but the prices were high. After a while, he conceded to have a look at flats, but he determined that flats were not the sort of home that he wanted to live in.

In the end we had to consider what we would have done with a house/flat in France while cruising. Our plan was to live ten months out of the year aboard and to come back just for a few weeks to visit parents, children, family and friends. They all live in different places, so the reality was that to visit we’d have to travel and find accommodations near them, if not at their home. A house of our own ? What for ?

As the time for departure approached, we had a serious look at our finances and realized that all costs of owning and caring for a house added to the boat expenses was more that we could possibly manage. The decision was then made.

In the end, we’ve been lucky enough to have a relative who offered to lend us their summer house in Brittany during winter time. Thank you!

Moving to the boat

François retired in December 2011, which meant that was the year I also stopped working.

Even though it had been planned, it was harder than foreseen. I had created my own job for almost ten years. The best thing I did was to get a wonderful associate two years before leaving, so that she was able to take over the business. Early January also brought the birth of my grand son (I now have five) which also made the idea of leaving hard.

Fortunately I have a lovely husband, and all our kids were encouraging us forwards. They all were adults, most of them in couples, living their own life, autonomous. And we live in the 21st Internet-connected century.

Early 2012, we got the phone call we’d been dreaming of. Two flight tickets to Lisbon in early March, followed by one-way tickets in April, and François and I were the new crew of Daimon, that we rebaptized Cybèle 17.

Daimon/Cybèle waiting for us in Setubal, Portugal

Why « 17 »? Because she is the 17th boat, his and mine added together, on which François and I have experienced the sea : eleven for him, four for me, and Cybèle 17 is already the second owned together.

Even if I couldn’t participate equally in her financial acquisition, I managed to contribute 10 % of her price, so that I feel I am her owner too.

We brought Cybèle back to France, had her checked out in a shipyard in La Rochelle, baptized her with our family and friends, and spent the first season along the coasts of our cherished Brittany’ and Isles of Scillies getting used to her. This was also a test year.

Back in the water – La Rochelle

Christening of Cybèle, with a bottle of Champagne

The next step was to introduce Cybèle to Pirate. Pirate is our cat. 12 years old at that time, who had spent all his time hitherto strolling in the garden, even when we were on vacation. He had never previously put a paw on a deck.

Pirate arrives aboard

Despite the skepticism around us, we moved him on board early July. And we were right!

It took him few months, to get really used to his new life, but afterwards enjoyed a passionate life of discovery, jumping on all the pontoons he could and walking on his own around new places every day. I could write about him later.

4 months after his installation on board,
Pirate honored us with his presence on deck for the first time at sea

Winter came, and it was finally time to execute our plan, empty our house and arrange our new home. We had an « open-doors » private selling, and put 20 cubic meters of furniture and memories in storage.

Spring 2013 came very quickly and with it the time for departure.

The last technical jobs done, we left our winter port, Arzal, in South Brittany, in April.

Casting off

The gates of the Arzal lock, on the Vilaine, open for us, towards a new life!

We had a stop in Brest for a last embrace to family and friends, and took the route North.

Since then, we have arrived as foreseen in Scandinavia, but had the revelation all along the Dutch canals, that we didn’t have to hurry anymore ! We henceforth have lived a slow life, and our plan has turned to be : to have no plan !

Sunset on the Glénan islands. Last passage in our favorite archipelago off Concarneau before our departure.

Learn more

• The Big Decision: Questions & Answers
• Keeping A Home Back Home, by Gwen Hamlin (Admiral’s Angle column #13)

Here, Heather answers a few questions about how solar cooking has opened up a whole new suite of cruising food options for ...Read more]]>

Heather McCarthy has been sailing with her husband, Dan, and their three daughters, the “McMermaids” since 2011. They are currently cruising the Florida Keys, Dry Tortugas, and the Bahamas onboard s/v Jullanar.

Here, Heather answers a few questions about how solar cooking has opened up a whole new suite of cruising food options for her family.

The McMermaids (Calypsa, Jelena, and Marina) are preparing to solar-cook white rice and chocolate-chip blondies. Summerland Key, Florida.
Photo taken by Heather McCarthy.

CULINARY QUESTIONS

What kinds of foods do you cook in your solar oven?

I love to prepare dishes in the solar oven that I wouldn’t dare cook on my galley’s 2-burner propane stove – foods that require long cooking times like rice, dried beans, roasted meats and vegetables, potatoes, stews, chili, etc. 

I feel great about saving propane and sparing everyone from the “dinnertime sweat” by keeping the boat cool in the late afternoon. 

Our sailboat does not have a propane oven, so I use the Solavore Sport solar oven to do ALL baking – bread, cakes, scones, muffins, cookies, pizza, pies, etc.  I have tried stovetop ovens with little success – some part of the dish usually burns.  However, the baked goods coming out my solar oven never burn and are always crowd-pleasers!

In the galley of s/v Jullanar, Heather is preparing a small, 4-pound whole chicken to roast in the solar oven.
Photo taken by Calypsa McCarthy

The golden, juicy roasted chicken after 4 hours at 275°F in the solar oven! My kids said it was the best chicken they’ve ever had! Summerland Key, Florida.
Photo taken by Calypsa McCarthy

What kinds of adaptations do you make to your recipes for cooking in the solar oven? 

A solar oven cooks like a crockpot or slow cooker (low temperature, long cooking durations).  While the boiling point of water (212°F) is achieved, very little water evaporation takes place. 

That means that you can and should add slightly LESS WATER to your rice/grains, dried beans, chili, stew, and soup recipes.  One cup of jasmine rice to 1 2/3 cups of water turns out perfect for me every time. 

You don’t need to add ANY WATER to cook hard-boiled eggs, corn-on-the-cob, potatoes, and other vegetables that you might boil in a pot a water on the stovetop.

Can you bake bread in it?  If so, how long does that take?

Oh yes!  Bread baked in the solar oven is delectable!!! 

I have had excellent results with basic white bread, cornbread, and a variety of sweet breads like pumpkin or banana breads.  I try to keep the loaf size small, or spread the recipe between the two black granite-ware pots to keep cooking times shorter. 

Cooking times depend on the internal temperature of the solar oven, which, of course, depends on the sun’s intensity at the time.  For baking, I want the solar oven to be in its highest temperature zone when I place the dough into the oven – at least 275°F. 

I achieve this in two ways:

1. Pre-heat the oven for 20-30 minutes,
2. Use the reflectors – the more light rays diverted into the oven, the hotter it will get! 

Today, I cooked a small loaf of garlic and herb bread in 60 minutes with reflectors on and an internal temperature of 300°F.  Everyone on the dock was salivating as they could smell it baking!        

Baking bread in the solar oven is easy!
Use a bread loaf pan, split the dough between the two graniteware pots, or place the loaf on a cookie sheet. An 11” x 17” cookie sheet fits nicely in my solar oven, when raised up on two empty tuna cans. You can fit a muffin pan into the oven in this way too.
Summerland Key, Florida.
Photos taken by Calypsa McCarthy.

How long does it typically take you to cook a casserole, rice and beans, stew, etc.?  What time of day do you typically place your dish in the oven?

When estimating cooking times of dishes such as these, try to change your mindset from “oven” to “crockpot.”  Think about how your crockpot at home has time settings like 4, 6, 8, 10 hours – these are comparable to solar-cooking times.  My crockpot at home cooks at 200°F on its “HIGH” setting.  At 275°F, the solar oven cooks rice in about 1 ½ hours, roasts a whole 4-lb chicken in 4 hours, and cooks dried beans (soaked overnight) in about 6 hours. 

As long as you start thinking in the morning about what you want to cook for dinner, you can ensure that you have you enough time. 

If I am going to cook roast beef, pulled pork, or a whole chicken, I’ll need to start the cooking at about 10:00am, in order to give the dish up to 6 hours of bright sun to fully cook. Occasionally, my kids have begged to eat at 4:00pm, because dinner was basically done in the solar oven and smelled so good! Why not!?!

When cruising with three children gets a little crazy, I simplify meals by cooking box mixes like these in the solar oven. Here are “before” and “after” photos of boxed rice and beans and country white bread. I place baked goods on a sheet of wax/parchment paper for easy removal and clean-up. Summerland Key, Florida.
Photos taken by Calypsa McCarthy.

How often do you have to finish cooking a recipe on your propane stove or propane oven?

In this regard, solar cooking is a bit like cruising – if you try to force things in less-than-ideal weather, less-than-ideal things will happen! 

I did this once….  A week in advance, I invited guests over for a Saturday night meal of “solar-cooked pulled pork and rosemary scalloped potatoes.”  Well, Saturday ended up being a cloudy day, and the pork didn’t cook.  It went back in the refrigerator to wait for a sunny day, and we ordered pizza for dinner! 

Just watch the weather and pick sunny days (air temperature doesn’t really matter), and you will rarely (if ever) have to finish a dish using propane.

When baking pizza in the solar oven, our results are fantastic when we brown the crust first. Then, add sauce, cheese and toppings, and bake until the cheese is melted and bubbly. Summerland Key, Florida. Photos taken by Heather McCarthy.

SAFETY QUESTIONS

How hot does a solar oven actually get?

Our youngest McMermaid (8 years old) baking an apple pie in the solar oven. You can see that the lid of the oven is cool enough that she can touch it with her bare hands, while handling the pots inside requires an oven mitt – the pots and food are very hot at around 300°F.

The Solavore Sport is engineered to withstand temperatures up to about 325°F.  I like to keep an eye on the oven temperature gauge, and if it starts to climb above 325°F (I’ve seen it do this on very hot, sunny Florida days), I just take the reflectors off or turn the oven slightly away from the sun to bring down the temperature.

Does the solar oven get hot on the outside?  Do you have to place something under the oven in order to cook on your deck?

When cooking, the black, exterior base of the oven feels barely warm to the touch.  This oven’s thick insulation keeps the heat inside, and the outside stays cool.  The lid can feel slightly warmer, but we can still comfortably lay our hands on it. 

I have no fear of my kids playing right beside the oven, and I can cook directly on my boat’s deck without anything under the oven. 

McMermaids cooking directly on the foredeck of s/v Jullanar – Spanish rice and brownies! The outside of the oven stays cool to the touch. The kids just had to “test” the brownies to make sure they were done! Eau Gallie Yacht Basin, Melbourne, Florida. Photo taken by Heather McCarthy.

Can solar cooking start a fire or burn food?

I can’t imagine a scenario in which the Solavore Sport could start a fire.  The average internal temperatures (225-275°F) of the oven are low enough that it is extremely safe.  Even if a piece of paper accidentally found its way inside the oven with your food, it would not catch on fire (it’s easy to remember the average temperature at which paper catches fire and burns, because author Ray Bradbury named his famous book after that temperature — Fahrenheit 451). 

Likewise, the relatively low cooking temperatures of this oven prevent foods from burning. 

Believe me, I’ve tested this!  When I first started using this solar oven, everything cooked faster than I expected, so I ended up with a couple over-cooked, yet quite edible, dishes.  Learn from my experience….  Cookies bake FAST (20-30 minutes), but, if left in too long, they simply turn dark golden and crunchy — still yummy! 

My best example is banana bread that I forgot about and left in for 4 hours (it cooks in 1 hour).  When we tasted the golden banana bread, we realized something magical had happened!  The bread wasn’t dried out or burned, but the sugars had caramelized!  This created a delicious, new, caramel-flavored banana bread! 

Not burned! Banana bread left in the oven too long did not burn or dry out, but the sugars caramelized into a moist, delicious “new” flavor!

LOGISTICAL QUESTIONS

Where do you store your solar oven aboard?  Can you store it on deck?

I’m often asked questions about storage!  When bringing any item onboard, every cruiser has to carefully consider the value of the item versus the space required to store it.  We REALLY do — we’ve got five people cruising full-time for six months onboard a 29′ sailboat. 

In response, I love this quote from s/v The Red Thread’s blog regarding a wafflemaker… “The last thing we wanted was to weigh down The Red Thread by hoarding unnecessary nonsense. “HOLD IT – doesn’t a waffle iron fall into the unnecessary nonsense category?” you ask. Well, I suppose it depends on how much you like breakfast!” 

Same idea with the solar oven — I LOVE solar cooking, so I’m going to make room onboard for my solar oven.  I derive great rewards from using and teaching others about the fuel-free, planet-friendly, time-saving power of the sun!  So, for me, it’s worth the space sacrifice.

My Solavore Sport oven weighs 9 pounds and measures 12 ¼” high by 27 ¼” long by 17” wide.  The reflectors fold flat and fit nicely inside the oven with the two pots.  I store the whole unit in a pillowcase on top of the engine when stopped and on the aft berth when underway.  If you have a place on your deck out of the rain and sun, you could store it there. 

When docked or anchored, we store our oven under the companionway on top of the engine cover in our 29’ Ericson sailboat. When underway, we store it on the aft berth. Summerland Key, Florida. Photo taken by Heather McCarthy.

I’ve brainstormed with clever cruisers about creative ways to
a) mount it like a grill on the stern rail (when not cooking, the oven should be upside-down to prevent rain or saltwater from getting in), and
b) suspend the oven from davits or some other part of the boat that allows you to rotate the hanging oven while cooking to follow the sun. 

I’m sure fellow cruisers can come up with other ingenious storage solutions!

Could you use the solar oven underway?  How do you cope with wind?

I prefer to solar cook when we are tied up at a dock, a marina, or anchored out.  I usually place the solar oven on the bow of our sailboat or on the dock beside it. 

An aerial view of our oven pre-heating on the dock next to our sailboat s/v Jullanar.

I suppose you could use the solar oven underway, if you found yourself in a stable situation like a flat day on the ICW.  I would be more inclined to cook quick, non-liquid dishes while underway – like cookies, which bake in 20-30 minutes.  I wouldn’t want to be cooking a soupy dish, if there was any chance of getting hit by a rogue wave or an unexpected boat wake that would cause the dish to spill.

Does Solavore sell a smaller solar oven?

Great question — I, too, wondered if it was possible for Solavore to make a smaller one-pot version, so I asked the CEO! 

At this time, the answer is no, because a minimum number of light rays are needed to get the oven to cooking temperature.  As designed, the convex surface area of the lid gathers and concentrates enough light beams to reach adequate temperatures.  Let’s say the surface area of the lid was reduced to half its current size to make the oven half as big (imagine a one-pot version)… Reflectors would be a MUST, and they would have to be twice as big to gather in and concentrate the same number of light rays to get the smaller oven to cooking temperatures.  Huge reflectors are difficult to stow and cannot be used during windy conditions. 

So, the engineers of the Solavore Sport came up with a design that balances size, usefulness, storability, and cooking effectiveness.

How much does a Solavore Sport cost?  Where can I order one?

For current pricing and shipping information and to find out more about Solavore’s humanitarian missions around the world, please check out Solavore’s website.   To make sure you don’t miss out on any special sales or promotions, sign up to receive the monthly newsletter and follow Solavore on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Google+.

Thank you so much for the opportunity to share solar cooking with other fellow cruisers!

About Heather P. McCarthy

The McMermaids (Calypsa, Jelena, and Marina) with Heather and Dan McCarthy, Boot Key Harbor, Marathon, Florida. Photo taken by Joe Holland.

Heather McCarthy of Jacksonville, Florida, has been sailing with her husband, Dan, and their three daughters, the “McMermaids” since 2011. During their first two years of sailing, this family-of-five traveled on s/v Marcalena, a small, galley-less 25’ MacGregor sailboat.

During a two-week trip in the Florida Keys on this boat, Heather cooked meals for her family on a shoreside campstove and dreamed of a solar oven that would allow her to snorkel all day with her family and come back to a delicious-smelling, fully cooked dinner! She tried (unsuccessfully) to build homemade solar cookers, but, even after rounds of modifications, her drippy, hungry kids just kept coming back to crunchy beans and rice.

However, there was no shaking the notion of solar cooking out of her head! She did her research on the sailing/boating blogs, found herself inspired by The Boat Galley, Women and Cruising, and Sailing Totem (“Seriously? Roast a whole chicken!?!”), and decided to get a Solavore Sport Oven – the model that kept popping up as “tough enough” for boat life.

Heather and her family are currently on a six-month sailing sabbatical onboard s/v Jullanar, their 29’ Ericson sailboat, dining on scrumptious solar-cooked cuisine, while traveling Florida’s Atlantic coast, the Florida Keys, and the Bahamas.

Their blog is at: mcmermaids.com

Learn more

• Cruiser Anne Patterson makes solar ovens … And shares a recipe
• Good Cookin’: Why I Love my Solar Oven, by Ann Patterson
• Solavore’s website & Solar cooking recipes
• Cooking with a Solar Oven aboard, by Behan Gifford, s/v Totem

Leaving land life behind to go cruising can seem like a big step, but coming home afterwards can be just as challenging.

We’ve completed two extended “seabatticals,” and the emotional process of transitioning back was very different each time. The physical process, on the other hand, ...Read more]]> This article was first published on YachtPals.com.

Leaving land life behind to go cruising can seem like a big step, but coming home afterwards can be just as challenging.

We’ve completed two extended “seabatticals,” and the emotional process of transitioning back was very different each time. The physical process, on the other hand, was similar: in each case, we came back to the same town in the same part of the world (Bavaria) and in my case, to the same job.

With those experiences in mind, I’ll look at how each of us transitioned back and what factors helped ease that process.

First trip: In the Caribbean

• Our first trip (2007-2008) was a year-long cruise which took us from the Mediterranean, across the Atlantic, around the eastern Caribbean, and up to US East Coast to Maine.

Our son went from being 3 to 4 years old during that time, and my husband and I both had a leave of absence from work so we could return to the same jobs. We had given up our rented home and sold the car, so when we came home, we had those things to sort out.

For me, coming home from the first trip proved to be a surprisingly difficult transition and it took months to get out of the slump.

• Our second trip (2011-2014) was a three-year trip that took us from Maine to Australia on the same boat.

Second trip: Back in our apartment in Bavaria

Our son completed grades 2, 3, and 4 during that trip, an upon our return, he went back to the same school he left after grade 1. I had a leave of absence from work while my husband resigned from his position.

We were able to sublet our rental apartment and loan out our car, so when we came home, we had both waiting for us.

For me, the transition back from that trip was very smooth due to factors beyond those conveniences.

We also lucked in to a very long, easy-going transition time: after we sold the boat in Australia, we enjoyed land travel for six weeks before going to Maine for another six weeks. In Maine, we were land-bound but right on the edge of the ocean, and we weren’t working yet.

We returned to our home in Germany with two weeks before “real life” started up in earnest with the start of a new school year.

In Maine. New challenges and new forms of fun are one good way
to fight post-cruising blues

Each trip, therefore, was followed by a very different experience.

Although our first trip was shorter, it took me a much longer time to transition back afterwards.

Why?

The biggest factor, I believe, is that we finished the first trip wishing for more sailing time. Although we accomplished everything we intended from the outset, it still felt too short. We had just tasted the sailing life and it was time to go home.

During that trip, we also met several sailing families who continued in to the Pacific and seeing them carry on while we headed home had me regretting that I hadn’t dared to dream an even bigger dream.

The transition back, at least for me, was hard, because my heart and soul were still out cruising. Compounding that was the fact that the apartment we did find wasn’t available for nearly two months, so we had a long period of temporary housing to deal with as well.

To my surprise, coming back from the three-year trip was much easier. I thought it would be harder, but that didn’t prove to be the case.

The two main reasons for this were that

1. We had planned for a two-year trip and were able to extend it into three full years, so it already felt we’d won a lottery,
2. Though I could have continued cruising forever, we had a greater sense of completion than after the first trip.
   Much as we would have loved another three years in the Pacific, we felt like we had seen and done more than we ever wished for.
   In addition, most of the dear friends we made along the way wrapped up their sailing adventures at around the same time, so there wasn’t so much of that feeling of watching the rest of the kids enjoying the playground while we were stuck indoors.

Germany: Meeting our fellow sailors who have also returned home
has helped the transition back.

Finally, we were also able to come home to the very same apartment – a home we love in a town we love in a gorgeous part of the world. Part of the latter was true the first time around, in that we also came home to the same town, though dealing with temporary housing was a significant issue for me.

My main frustrations on coming home the second time were small things, like the shock of coming home from a beautifully simple, off-the-grid life to a world that is even more absorbed in electronic devices and multimedia entertainment.

After the second trip, I slipped easily back into the same job, though it took a while to adjust to the idea that I would be doing it for years and not just as a short stint. Six months down the line, I’ve digested that fact at last!

And what about my husband and my son?

• With our son, it’s hard to judge because he had a smooth transition each time.

He was only four years old after the first trip and would have just been starting in a new school anyway. His kindergarten teacher did comment that he seemed a little overwhelmed by being surrounded by twenty other children all the time. (He had been in day care previously with the same number of children, but during our year at sea he got accustomed to having no more than two or three playmates at a time.)

After the second trip, he re-entered the same school. We were very lucky that a number of the students he knew from grade 1 were in his new grade 5 class – including his closest school buddy, with whom he’d been in email contact throughout the cruise.

The boat kids of Suwarrow, Cook Islands

So for our son, the transition was quite easy, too. He had enjoyed the company of several other kids while cruising (as well as attending a few local schools and a summer camp in New Zealand), so the group social situation of school wasn’t as much of a shock to him.

The main observations his teacher made was that he was so used to home schooling alone that he had a hard time working in pairs – in the sense that he’d do his half and let his partner do the other half without realizing that it ought to be a collaborative process.

I was surprised, because while sailing, he collaborated beautifully with kids of different ages, backgrounds, and even languages. However, those were all informal situations and it seems that it took some time to transfer the skill to a school setting.

• My husband reports that transitioning back home after the second trip was slightly more difficult than after the first, though not by a great deal. He had no trouble finding a new job after the second trip, and although it was at a different company, he was familiar with the setting since he had consulted for that company while in his previous employer.

How broadly applicable are our experiences?

It’s hard to say. The sailors we know who’ve done the same kinds of sailing trip have a range of experiences to report. Some came back to their previous homes and immediately thrived, while others floundered. Others settled in entire different places (even different countries) and again, some are full of cheery news while others sing the blues. The question is, is there a single secret to success?

One sailor I spoke with observed that there are so many books that help you go cruising, but none that help with the transition back. It may well be that the variables range over such a wide spectrum that it’s hard to establish a pattern.

I’m no expert, but I will mention two things that helped ease both transitions back for us (aside from the obvious: having jobs to pay the bills and alleviate that stress).

1. One was maintaining contact with sailing friends – both those still out there and those who like us are back to more humdrum lives. They’re the ones who understand us best and with whom we laugh the deepest laughs, smile the widest smiles.
   
   

   Two families who last met in the Cook Islands reunite on a weekend hike

2. The second factor was having a new goal that I could be passionate about working toward to replace the “loss” of the sailing lifestyle.

For me, that goal was writing Lesson Plans Ahoy after I returned from the first trip, as well as writing magazine articles for the sailing press. These gave me a chance to relive parts of my trip while producing something valuable for others, which is rewarding.

My goal now that we’re back from the second trip is to not only write more non-fiction (like Pacific Crossing Notes and Cruising the Caribbean with Kids), but to branch into fiction writing as well. This includes my two sea adventure novels (The Silver Spider and Rum for Neptune) as well as other projects in the works.

In many ways, these fiction-writing goals give me the new horizons I crave, and that’s another reason that this second transition was a smoother one. If I had come home with the feeling that the grand adventure was over and had nothing to look forward to, I would be telling a very different story right now.

We count our blessings every day – those that allowed us to go sailing in the first place, and those that give us new aspirations now that we’re back. We’re thankful for our health, luck, and the family members who let us go, then welcomed us back, not to mention friends and employers who generously did the same.

Are we done with sailing?

Not by a long shot! But we’re content to pay our dues and pursue other goals until we earn a third chance to live the sailing life we so enjoy. Someday!

About Nadine Slavinski

caption.

Nadine Slavinski is a parent, sailor, and Harvard-educated teacher.

She lived aboard her 1981 Dufour 35 for four years and cruised from Europe to the Caribbean, North America, and on to Australia together with her husband and young son.

She is the author of three sailing guides:

• Pacific Crossing Notes: A Sailor’s Guide to the Coconut Milk Run,
• Cruising the Caribbean with Kids: Fun, Facts, and Educational Activities,
• Lesson Plans Ahoy: Hands-on Learning for Sailing Children and Home Schooling Sailors Paperback.

Her next project is The Silver Spider, a novel of sailing and suspense.

Her articles and links to all her books are available on her website: www.nslavinski.com

Read more on this website:

• Nadine Slavinski Answers 12 Questions on Sailing as a Family
• Sailing Families Revisited: The NAMANI Sailing Family update
• Back to land: Choking on the anchor, by Clare Collins

A delight of dolphins!

I have been a sailor all my life, but only started cruising in 2001. I grew up racing in small open boats, windsurfing, and day sailing. Years later when my husband proposed ...Read more]]> This article was first published on Sailing Phoenix, Marie Raney’s blog.

What’s it really like to go offshore?

A delight of dolphins!

I have been a sailor all my life, but only started cruising in 2001. I grew up racing in small open boats, windsurfing, and day sailing. Years later when my husband proposed the cruising lifestyle and maybe a circumnavigation, I started reading to find out what this was all about.

You’ve probably read from much the same list I have and we’re lucky to have so many talented writers among our experienced cruising community. But because they’re experienced they didn’t really address one question I had… what’s it really like when you first go offshore sailing?

They told me hints and tricks and lots of wonderful ideas, but never what it was like first time out.

Many of the books I read indicated that most people who actually go offshore sailing do it for less than two years – many leave it after six months, some after their first ocean crossing. If this is something we were going to gear up to do for years, it seemed like I should know whether I’d like it or not. But no one gave me a feeling of what that experience might be.

I’m now three weeks into my first ocean crossing so I’ll try to share what it has been like.

Nature of our trip

Of course all ocean voyages and all boats are not the same. I’ll describe a little about what our trip is so you’ll know how similar your experience might be. Your trip may be in a larger more comfortable boat, or on more temperate waters, or you may have more conveniences or comforts and so your experiences may be different for those reasons.

We live north of Seattle and are doing a “shakedown” ocean cruise to Hawaii and back before deciding whether to finish outfitting the boat for extended ocean cruising- a trip of about 3000 miles each way – about a month of ocean time each way.

We leave the land behind us as the wind vane takes over steering

Although our boat is the most complex boat either of us has owned, it is an older boat (1967 hull, renovated 1984) so is still by modern standards somewhat spartan.

For this trip we have no refrigeration, no generator, no water maker, no tv or microwave. It has a diesel engine, although not a powerful one. No integrated electronics, although I did set up a laptop for this trip and connected some serial devices (GPS, AIS, Pactor modem) to my computer for communications and navigation. No electric winches or anchoring.

We do have solar panels. We also have an Aries wind vane, but no autopilot. We have a two burner stove, but the oven doesn’t work currently. So we won’t be taking hot showers or drinking cold beers, but we will have hot meals.

As for the crossing itself, paradoxically the coastal part of it is reputedly as difficult as they come (in this country), but the ocean part is fairly easy.

To leave Washington state by water you generally need to tackle the Strait of Juan de Fuca – a 100 plus mile stretch of current-ridden, wind-driven water separating the US and Canada. Some cruisers have said it was the worst part of their trip. The straits are so turbulent that fluid dynamics studies use this body of water as their laboratory to study complex turbulence reactions.

After the first few days of beating to get away from the lee shore that is the US west coast, we spent most of the rest of the month wing-and-wing

However the crossing to Hawaii is fairly easy, although the coast of Washington, Oregon, and even California can be quite treacherous. But once you get offshore (in summer) light winds are more a problem than big winds or seas. Hurricanes or typhoons are extremely rare.

In mentally preparing for this trip I expected to get beat up for the first week out and then see a gradual easing of conditions and temperatures. This turned out to be pretty accurate.

Dealing with cool weather, high seas

The first two days were mostly beating in 12 foot seas. Weather was in the 60s when we left, water temperature in the mid 50s, seas a bit mixed from earlier storms.

Already the first days’ rigors are disappearing into memory, but this is what I emailed to friends at the time:

“The first few days, off the Washington and Oregon coast, were rough and wild, with 10-12 foot seas and strong winds. Those days passed in a fog of standing watches, grabbing hot food, and trying to sleep all against a background of being slammed around the boat like popping popcorn.”

During this time we never went out of the cabin without the full foulies – fleece pants and jacket covered by foul weather jacket and farmer johns, wool socks, sea boots, ski hat and gloves. It wasn’t really particularly cold, but it was wet from the occasional wave getting the side decks or from spray over the weather cloths or from light rain. And sitting still in the cockpit would get cold, until something needed doing like shortening sail – then it got sweaty fast.

I remember watching the boat raised on a wave … up, up, up to about a story and a half, then just when you were sure you’d crash and fall, the wave gracefully slid out from under the boat. Again and again and again.

However from inside the boat it was a different experience. From my journal:

“Our first four days were demanding, occasionally debilitating. Snatching sleep in two hour increments was all we could do with four hour watches. And four hour watches is all we could do on deck. Like backpacking on a six-degree of freedom platform, voyaging has bruised and exhausted us. The simplest tasks such as eating or sitting on the toilet became Olympic events.”

I get a new angle on cooking while sailing to windward the first few days. The galley belt, at hip height, is the only way to have two hands for cooking

Down below in early days was nearly as much work as in the cockpit. Just moving down the cabin was a full 3-D game experience. Even with handholds available from every position in our cabin I was constantly getting slammed against a bulkhead, unfailingly one with a pad eye sticking out.

I did manage to cook some simple meals from scratch during that time but I guess I would recommend sticking to heating up pre-prepared food. However I still remember the first day’s split pea soup that I made from scratch, with Bisquick biscuits. It was very tasty and did a lot to lift our spirits.

Night sailing

Night falls at sea

On deck was scary at first, especially at night, hurtling through the waves without being able to see what’s in front of you. The large rolling waves would come in and sometimes crash heavily on the side decks. You could really hear the weight of the water and it was a sobering sound.

My fears kept me occupied as well. What if someone falls in; what if something breaks; what if these were breakers not rollers; what if the wind, already whistling in the rigging, freshens; what if I can’t sleep; what if I can’t get the sail under control?

Gradually these fears gave way to appreciation for the boat. I stopped focusing on “what if..” and watched how the boat was made to handle these waves. I saw that if we got overpowered we could always round up and ease the pressure or the speed. The motion became more natural and not something to be fought.

And, however dark it was, there was nothing in front of us. I soon stopped worrying about running into something unseen in the dark – the somethings I needed to worry about, ships, were well lit up. But there were darn few of them in the north Pacific either. For two weeks we saw no ships, even on our AIS, and even the occasional planes were so far overhead that we heard nothing and could barely make out a glint as they passed overhead.

Even birds and large fishes were increasing rare as we got 800 or miles from the nearest land. Clouds and water were the only companions that we could rely on until clearer weather returned the stars, moon and sun to us.

Night watches are difficult for both of us. If you’re active in the cockpit, four hours is a long watch. If you’re trying to sleep, four hours is very short.

As the weather smooths out we’re compromising with five hour night watches – sundown to midnight and midnight to dawn – and seven hour day watches. This gives us plenty of time to get sleep between our two off-watches and keeps our night watches from being too difficult. Having light at one end of your watch seems to help psychologically.

Leecloths

And we have adjusted. I’m now falling to sleep faster and easier than I ever did on land, although a heavy roll will still keep either of us sleeping fitfully. Again, we don’t have staterooms, but keeping lights on helps the person on watch stay awake. I thought it would keep the sleeper awake as well, but this has not been a problem, even though on land I’m extremely sensitive to light while I’m trying to sleep.

However the beauty of night watches also makes them wonderful. Hundreds of miles from the nearest light source the stars are luscious and rich with variation. Warm winds caress as the boat moves effortlessly forward. It’s intoxicating.

Sounds at sea

The thing I was not expecting was the sound of cruising.

Water crashes on the side decks, sounding like a ton of bricks from my quarterberth below

It was worse because we were beating, but the sound is unending. Water sounds, boat sounds, and stuff-shifting-around sounds all combined into a constant cacophonous background of sound. On deck it would be difficult to hear each other.

Even more unexpected were the voices. I had heard of sleep-deprived single-handers imagining voices and even seeing people, but I didn’t expect to hear them myself. But we both heard voices constantly during that first week. The words weren’t quite distinguishable, but the tones and cadence sounded like English. Some of my voices included a phantom cocktail party – some male and female voices and the clink of glassware – as well as a mom calling her kids to lunch on a summer afternoon – relaxed and unhurried. Occasionally I heard the staccato tones of a slightly worried man or the murmur of a conversation in another room that lapses momentarily into a querulous note of sharpness then subsides back into conversation.

A couple of weeks later, running downwind in warmer conditions and lighter seas we rarely hear these voices. I sort of miss them.

Hygiene, moisture, salt

We didn’t want to use water for bathing until we really knew how much water we were using for essentials. But, as I had learned from backpacking, a sponge bath can be very effective. A wet washcloth with a little Dr. Bronner’s applied to “problem areas” at bedtime is a delight.

Except for these efficacious sponge baths we didn’t try to bathe until the weather got warm enough that it was pleasant to do in the cockpit. And then washing our hair was a near religious experience. However do not attempt this with salt water. I thought it would be a relief to get the oil out, but anything with salt water in it never really dries. Rather awful. I washed it again the next day in fresh water.

A flexible bucket made of rubberized cloth (sold at camping stores) minimized the amount of water you need since you don’t waste water in the corners of the bucket – sort of fold it around your head as you rinse.

But the fact remains that we are dirty. Clothes particularly are a problem. You can wear the same clothes over and over – or you can pile up the dirty laundry – neither is an attractive proposition.

I did wash out underwear and a few shirts in a minimal amount of water to good effect. However cottons don’t dry and get dirty fast – avoid them. My microfiber, polyester (dri-wear type), rip-stop nylon, and polyprop / fleece clothes don’t get as dirty as fast as cotton, don’t hold water, don’t hold sweat, and are easy to wash.

Next trip I will not allow cotton during the voyage itself – particularly cotton sweatshirts and jeans. They just stay damp all the time.

As the weather warms I wear bathing suits almost exclusively, sometimes throwing a long sleeved shirt over for sun protection. My husband has chosen not to wear clothes. Both are better solutions than bra, panties, shirts and shorts. On the other hand, like during our backpacking in previous lives, we’re dirty together and getting used to it.

Related to hygiene is moisture and salt. Even a boat as well-ventilated as ours has moisture issues, especially in high seas. What I didn’t really appreciate was the salt that encrusts everything. In a mild morning I go forward and sit on a hatch with a cup of tea – the hatch is crusted in salt and now so are my clothes. My hands are salty, my hair is salty. I don’t miss potato chips – I just kiss my husband. Everything is salty and with salt comes moisture. Even with sponge baths before bed the sheets are vaguely damp. A separate stateroom away from companionway traffic would help, but we don’t have this luxury.

Next time I think I will have silk or synthetic sheet sacks that can be easily washed in little water and dried in little time. I did provide spare sheets stored in zip lock bags with lavender-scented dryer sheets and this worked well – at least the new sheets were dry and fresh smelling. The polypropylene blankets worked well – never seemed damp, dried readily if wet, didn’t pick up sweat smells. Wool or cotton would have been disastrous.

To counteract salt buildup in the cabin I wiped down surfaces with vinegar. This cut the salt and eliminated any mold that might be thinking of forming.

Conclusion

All in all ocean passages, at least for this first-timer, are awe-inspiring and exhausting – no namby-pamby boring stuff.

Time passes strangely quickly, filled with necessary activities. The work – cooking, cleaning, bathing, getting weather reports, standing watch, doing sail changes – seems to fill most of the day but is all clearly necessary, not make-work. The down time – sleeping, reading, watching, thinking has never been quite enough but is pleasingly unstructured. I have managed to do a little writing, and reading, but not as much as I thought. Knitting, games, music have stayed put away.

Except during squalls there isn’t much of a schedule. So if dolphins arrive, we stop everything else and just watch them. When the sky is clear and my watch begins, I just watch the stars until I’m satiated. We do what’s in front of us, not much planning or juggling of activities, which feels unpressured and, well, simple. I think we’re a little closer to just being.

On land I live in the future – always looking at least an hour or a day ahead. Out here I’m living in the same time I’m doing, so even though we’re always busy it’s not the frantic busy of trying to finish up x to get to y that seems to characterize my working life on land. I feel healthier, more centered, more tired, but more … at home perhaps.

About Marie Toler Raney

Marie and Williwaw leave Neah Bay, Washington on their first Pacific trip in 2008. Co-captain Jon took the photo.

Marie grew up racing small boats in the Chesapeake Bay area of Maryland before becoming a software developer. Jon grew up in Davis, CA dreaming of running away to sea, finally escaping at 15 on an Alaskan fishing boat. Williwaw the Portuguese Water Dog, born on Lopez Island, WA, has an ancient and noble sailing heritage.

After years of coastal sailing in the Pacific Northwest they all decided to run away to sea together on their steel sloop, Phoenix.

Their blog is at www.sailingphoenix.com

Related posts

• Tale of a gale: A novice sailor’s adventure, by Susan Von Hemert
• Lessons from an offshore voyage: How one woman’s life was changed by the sea, by Heather Mann
• A sea of meaning: How the sea changes me, by Karen Sullivan

Three years ago on the Women and Cruising blog, Anne Patterson of sv Sea Lady wrote about cooking aboard with a solar oven.

Her experience with the solar oven was so favorable, that when the company producing her ...Read more]]>

Anne Patterson and her solar oven, in her ‘other galley’ (the SEA LADY foredeck)

Three years ago on the Women and Cruising blog, Anne Patterson of sv Sea Lady wrote about cooking aboard with a solar oven.

Her experience with the solar oven was so favorable, that when the company producing her oven went out of business, Anne decided to step in to keep the solar oven in production.

As quite a few cruisers have begun cooking with these ovens, we recently asked Anne to answer some questions about cooking with a solar oven, about her decision to produce the oven, and of course … for some recipes.

Here is the first of a series on solar cooking aboard.

How did you become interested in solar cooking?

I was introduced to solar cooking by a fellow cruiser in Puerto Rico. John baked the most mouthwatering, wholesome, healthy wholegrain bread complete with dried fruit, nuts, and pumpkin seeds. Moist, yet perfectly dense. And without even turning on the oven.

As a frustrated cruising baker (hot galley, temperamental oven, extravagant use of propane), I was hooked at the first bite.

How long have you been using your solar oven aboard?

Anne’s carrot cake, baked in her solar oven.

I have been using my solar oven aboard Sea Lady for seven years now, and I have a solar oven at our summer cottage in Connecticut.

On average I solar cook 3-4 days a week.

Sometimes it’s yummy and exotic, like my 2-layer carrot cake (I’m guaranteed an invitation to every birthday party in the anchorage), other times it’s pantry basics like roasted garlic, organic long grain brown rice (which I can never manage to cook successfully on the stovetop), or steel cut oats for breakfast.

How does a solar oven work?

There are several types of solar cookers including parabolic, vacuum tube and box.

My solar oven (Solavore Sport) is a retained-heat box-type solar cooker, the only practical design for on-board use. The box cooker is also the most versatile of solar cooker designs, meaning you can bake, simmer, roast, dehydrate and even pasteurize water. The Sport’s 1” surround insulation means you can cook even in passing clouds, and food stays warm through sunset.

How does a solar oven work?

How did you learn to cook with your solar oven at the beginning?

People are often a bit intimidated when they first start solar cooking, poring over recipes wondering how to adopt. In just a few tries, however, they often comment “it’s just an oven!” (i.e. no recipe modification required.)

Personally, when I was getting started I thought of it as a crock pot and experimented with the simple basics: jerk chicken, rice & beans, etc.

Probably the key things to remember are:

• Reduce the amount of water. Since the pots are lidded and the oven lid is closed tightly and you’re cooking at low temperatures, there is no steam escaping. Don’t add water at all to vegetables, or to meats (unless adding wine for flavor!), and cut back on water (try 25% less) for rice and grains.
• Get an early start. In most areas the sky is clearest in the mornings. This requires behavior modification – tough for some of us! – to start dinner after breakfast, but the rewards are well worth it, and before long it’s routine.

Why did you take over production of the solar oven and launch a new business?

The Sport was invented by engineers at 3M Corporation and distributed out of Minneapolis, Minnesota by the non-profit “Solar Oven Society.” Over 20,000 Sport solar ovens were sold from 2000-2012, at which point the founders felt a need to re-structure and halted production.

Imagine my dismay to hear from my aspiring solar cooking friends that they could not purchase the oven! So I began working with the founders and in January 2015 we re-launched the company as Solavore, LLC.

Are you still cruising?

What Anne does while dinner cooks in the sun.

Absolutely! That was non-negotiable.

Our cruising is, like many in the Caribbean, 6-months on, 6-months off and never far from an airport or fast internet, but we are definitely on the hook.

One of your favorite solar cooking recipe?

Next

Q&A:
Slow Cooking (with a Solar Oven) on a Slow Boat, by Heather McCarthy

About Anne Patterson

Anne strolling Zoni Beach on Culebra, Puerto Rico, while dinner cooks aboard the SEA LADY.

Anne and her husband Ray Seiffert spend their winters in the Caribbean aboard their Peterson 44 and spend their summers in their cottage on Griswold Island, Connecticut – where they also have a solar oven.

Her year ’round job is living her passion, at the helm of Solavore, LLC, promoting solar cooking in both the developed world and the developing world.

Further reading

• Anne’s guest blog in Women & Cruising three years ago:
  Good Cookin’: Why I Love my Solar Oven.
• Slow Cooking (with a Solar Oven) on a Slow Boat:
  Cruiser Heather McCarthy answers a few questions about how solar cooking has opened up a whole new suite of cruising food options for her family.
• To learn more about Solavore, their mission, and the Solavore Sport, click here.
• Here’s another solar cooking cruiser’s story:
  Cooking with a solar oven aboard, by Behan Gifford on s/v Totem.
• Solar cooking recipes

It’s been nearly a year since we sold Camille and we’re starting to think about our next boat. We’ve had a nice break but ...Read more]]> This article was also published in 48° North (July 2015) – a great, free sailing magazine for the Pacific Northwest, and on Pacific Sailors, Verena Kellner’s blog.

It’s been nearly a year since we sold Camille and we’re starting to think about our next boat. We’ve had a nice break but the sea is calling.

CAMILLE, 2001 Hunter 380.

When we were boat shopping before we bought Camille, we had some ideas on what we wanted out of a boat but did not have a specific make or model in mind. We looked at everything from 30 year old blue-water boats to brand new fin keels.

This time around we know exactly the make and model we want to purchase. We’re just waiting to for the right boat (i.e., previous owner) to come along.

Camille ended up being sort of a practice boat to determine what we really wanted out of a cruising boat. Turns out there are a few things we will not compromise on in the future. We’ve had some time to reflect and made a list of what we learned.

WHAT WE DID RIGHT WITH OUR FIRST CRUISING BOAT

Upgrading

We bought Camille at rock-bottom price because the previous owner had fallen on some bad luck and had to short-sell. This allowed us to make extensive upgrades and still come out even when we sold Camille two years later (more about our cruising expenses here). She had been very well taken care of and we continued babying her. Her hull looked whiter and shinier than most near-new boats.

We didn’t affix anything permanently by making holes in the wood or made any “weird” modifications. All this added to the resale value.

Age

We made sure to buy a boat under ten years of age. Older boats tend to need of TLC and repairs. They need new rigging, new sails, new electronics, new hoses, etc.

We sold Camille right when we were starting to think about needing to replace a few major systems. The next boat will need to be even younger so we can keep her longer and be more confident in her integrity.

Size

For our first cruising boat, Camille, at 38 feet, was the perfect size; and in the future we have no plans of going any longer.

Watermaker

In the late 80’s, when I was in my teens, my parents and I sailed from Germany to California sans watermaker (more on that journey here). We used saltwater for nearly everything and I don’t like the feel of dried salt on my skin or what it does to expensive gear.

So when Mike and I bought Camille I knew I would not go anywhere without a watermaker. We added a 110V high-output watermaker to Camille (more on that here). It was great having tons of water but every third or fourth day we had to listen to a very loud water-pump for 3-4 hours to fill our tanks. We also had to run a portable gas generator to power the 110V pump.

Watermaker pumps and filters.

We don’t like having gasoline on board (we are even considering an electric motor for the next dinghy) and the smell from the exhaust of the generator is not very pleasant – not to mention dangerous. We will definitely have a watermaker on our next boat but it will have to be powered by either a diesel generator or the sun.

Navigation

We kept the Ipad at the binnacle while underway

Shortly before leaving the US we bought an iPad with the Navionics navigation app. Since we also had two iPhones and a hand-held GPS we had lots of backups to our chart plotter.

I wrote extensively about using our iPad versus the chart-plotter here (on the Women & Cruising website)

We had to replace the GPS antenna on the chart-plotter twice. The original antenna was fading in and out when we bought the boat. The second antenna which we had bought from some guy off the dock failed a year later. Reading the forums this seems to be a known issue with older Raymarine GPS antennas (ours was seven years old). We contacted Raymarine and they simply told us to buy the new model which required an expensive converter. Glad we had the backup GPS units!

Camille came equipped with a radar which we were very glad to have when we encountered dense fog off the coast of Baja. A definite must have on our next boat.

We added a new VHF with AIS receiver which is just another layer in assuring we don’t get too close to other boats. Next time we would love an AIS transceiver but neither is a must have. The boats that broadcast an AIS signal are usually well lit. It’s the little boats without lights we have to worry about. And nothing replaces good old-fashioned watch keeping.

LED Lights

After trying many different brands of interior LED lights we finally went with Imtra LED lights for the cabin lights. Most LED lights give off a bluish/cold hue that makes me think of a cafeteria. The Imtra lights were the warmest color I could find and kept the cabin feeling cozy.

We also changed the navigation lights to LED. This was especially helpful for the anchor light. Many boats will use the cheap solar garden lights as anchor lights to save on electricity. This is not legal and makes them very hard to see.

A real anchor light (at the top of the mast, where it belongs) will light up the water for long distances and makes it easy to spot a boat. Coming into an anchorage late at night to find many boats badly lit can be very dangerous. Please, buy an LED anchor light!

Swim-Step

This was something we always knew we wanted in a cruising boat and was very high on the must-have list.

CAMILLE’s swim step.

Camille’s swim-step was huge. Great for showering and rinsing off after spending time in the ocean. And since we did not have a separate shower stall we always had to shower outdoors. A shower stall had been high on my must-have list but I realize now that I would not want to introduce that much moisture (i.e., mold) into the cabin on a regular basis anyway.

The swim-step is also great in marinas. When the boat is backed into a slip it is easy to step on and off. Much safer than rickety steps to climb up the side. Maybe I’m just clumsy but I have fallen between the dock and the boat on a couple of boats — once nearly splitting my head open on a concrete dock.

Ventilation

Opening ports and hatches.

Camille had 16 opening ports including three large hatches forward. We had one of those wind-scoops to funnel the breeze into the cabin but actually only used it a couple of times since it did not really make much of a difference. For windless nights we had four powerful cabin fans (more on those below).

Communication

We purchased an inexpensive WiFi booster to receive free WiFi signals from shore. We never felt the need for an expensive unit that is permanently affixed high-up in the mast. By simply sticking it out of the window in an anchorage we usually found an open signal. The same company now also makes an outdoor version, which we plan on purchasing in the future.

OTHER THINGS WE LOVED ABOUT CAMILLE

• Lines led aft into cockpit
• Huge galley that also had spaces to wedge into in big seas
• Arch for traveler keeps the cockpit clear of lines
• Electric winch (Mike likes to go aloft)
• Vacuflush head (no stink!)
• Solar panels
• Lots of easily accessible storage
• Check out our list of Favorite Gear

WHAT WE WILL DO DIFFERENTLY ON OUR NEXT BOAT

Upgrading

When we bought Camille we bought an almost barebones boat.

CAMILLE, when we bought her in San Diego.

We added solar, bimini, watermaker, dinghy, outboard, liferaft, anchors, anchor-chain, and tons of safety gear and spares. We spent over $20,000 not to mention nearly three months installing and upgrading.

Having everything new was a major bonus but the installs took a lot of our time that we could have spent cruising. We don’t have unlimited time to cruise since we still have to work, so we should enjoy every minute of our time off.

Watch-Standing

We usually stood our night-watches under the protection of the dodger, especially if it was a cold night, using the iPad to keep an eye on progress.

The problem with this location was that all the instruments were on the binnacle. If the auto-pilot stopped or the AIS alarmed or we had to keep a very close eye on the radar we had to sit behind the wheel – exposed to the elements.

We learned that a night-time watch keeper is happiest under the dodger and that it would be helpful to have some essential electronic displays visible from that protected position.

The next boat will need a more convenient location for the instrument panel or repeaters inside of the dodger or at the nav desk.

VHF

We had one VHF radio at the helm as well a couple of handhelds. Most popular cruising grounds have VHF “cruisers’ nets” in the mornings to exchange information and goods. The time of the net often coincided with breakfast preparations aboard Camille so we tried using one of the hand-held VHFs but could not pick up parts of the conversation. Unless we were right at the heart of the cruising grounds we had to use the high-powered VHF at the helm to listen in.

Having a second, high-powered VHF in the cabin would gave been a great addition. Not to mention having a backup radio that is not exposed to the elements.

Power

Charging the battery with solar panels.

We added 300 watts of solar to Camille but there was no space for a second battery. Our one Group-4D battery was not enough to power everything we needed to run. The fridge was a power-hog in the hot Mexican sun. During the day we were making more electricity than we could store and at night the battery could not keep up with demand.

Autopilot

The autopilot on Camille was not adequate once she was fully loaded with cruising gear. It was rated for 24,000 pounds of displacement – Camille displaced about 16,000 pounds empty. Add water, diesel and gear and you reach the limit very quickly. In largish following seas or if it had to make a lot of corrections the autopilot drive stopped and had to be reset. We looked into buying the more powerful model but would have had to replace the chart-plotter at the same time resulting in many boat bucks (one boat buck = US$1,000.)

We had looked into adding a self-steering wind-vane to Camille but since we were not planning on any major ocean crossings the expense would have been prohibitive.

Noise

Camille was very noisy. In a rolly anchorage the creaking drove me nuts. I could not sleep. I ripped apart lockers looking for the source. I added little pieces of material between areas that were rubbing. It always came back. Under sail we could not simply enjoy the sound of the waves slapping the hull because the creaking drowned it out.

Under power the noise was even worse. With the engine located right under the stairs the engine droned on in the main cabin and in the aft cabin. The only place that was somewhat quiet was the V-berth which is more akin to riding a roller-coast when the seas kick up.

Bunks

Camille had basic, thin foam cushions in her bunks. We should have just gone ahead and purchased a custom folding marine mattress. Instead we purchased the Froli sleep system and more foam – almost spending as much as for a real mattress. We had no moisture issues but were never really very comfortable.

Next time we’ll just get a real mattress right away.

Windows

I would like to be able to look out the windows while doing dishes or sitting in the saloon.

My biggest complaint about our boat was that I could not see out of the windows.

It felt like living in a hole. Mike is quite a bit taller than I am and was able to see out of the windows while standing up. The boat was very bright and airy thanks to large windows on deck but in the hot sun we usually had to keep all the windows and hatches covered.

I would like to be able to look out the windows while doing dishes or sitting in the saloon. It seems silly to travel thousands of (hard-earned) miles to stare at the walls when right outside is a breath-taking anchorage.

Stairs

The 6-step companionway made the cabin feel very disconnected from the cockpit.

At anchor this was a mere inconvenience but at sea it was a pain having to go up and down the stairs carrying food or drinks – one item at a time. I longed for more of a “porch” where the cockpit is an extension of the cabin.

6-step companionway.

Deck Color

The two-tone deck color highlighted the difference in heat reflection in the hot sun.

Camille’s deck was two-toned. The main walking-areas were painted light grey and everything else was white.

If I had not felt it for myself I would not believe the difference that made. I could not walk on the grey areas on hot, sunny days because they would burn my feet. The white areas felt merely warm. I can only imagine how much cooler the interior would have been with white decks.

Sunbrella covers for all hatches as well as mesh covers for large deck windows.

Cabin Fans

We purchased four 2-speed Caframo cabin fans. After one year of fairly light duty they became very noisy and were slinging black dust.

My parents, who are currently cruising Mexico, have been using these Hella fans on their boat for several years and they are quiet and low-maintenance.

Dinghy Davits

While we would not make any passages with a dinghy in the davits on a mono-hull, having davits at anchor would have been a great addition to Camille. Most nights we left the dinghy in the water and it would either rub against the hull or we would worry about it getting stolen. When the wind kicked up we had to pull it up on deck but not until we heaved the outboard on deck. This was always a huge production that could have been avoided with davits.

BOTTOM LINE

Even if the next boat does not have all of the options we want, we can always add them. The basic layout of the boat, however, cannot be changed.

We will make sure the boat doesn’t creak, that the beds are large enough to be comfortable and that the boat makes us feel safe.

We can’t wait to go cruising again!

About Verena Kellner

Mike and Verena met after college, while working aboard a NOAA hydrographic research vessel in Alaska, collecting data to update nautical charts. They later moved to Portland, Oregon and worked for a hydrographic firm that kept them traveling all over the US and working aboard boats and ships.

In 2008, they both got our 100 ton captain’s licenses, and in 2011 quit their jobs, bought a sailboat (s/v Camille) and went sailing in Mexico for a couple of years. They eventually made the Baja Bash back up to California, sold the boat and spent summer 2014 working and playing in Alaska. They are back in the lower 48, making more nautical charts, traveling in their mini van, and saving up for their next adventure.

Be sure to subscribe to their website (PacificSailors.com) and join them on Facebook!

More from this website

• iPad on board, by Verena Kellner
• Bedding: If it’s the last thing on your list, maybe it shouldn’t be. (Admiral’s Angle #60)
• Cruising on Convergence : Building the boat, by Sally-Christine Rodgers

When you’re cruising, you’re immersed in nature, and many of us enjoy watching the birds while underway or at anchor. But as a boater you’re also in a unique position to contribute to citizen science simply ...Read more]]> In the Women and Cruising blog series “Take Your Passion Cruising” I wrote about my passion: birds.

When you’re cruising, you’re immersed in nature, and many of us enjoy watching the birds while underway or at anchor. But as a boater you’re also in a unique position to contribute to citizen science simply by taking photos of the birds you see on passage and in remote anchorages.

Tropicbirds are commonly reported to the Birding Aboard project, perhaps because they are so elegant and have a habit of circling the mast.
Photo ©Ellen Massey Leonard.

Because there is so little coverage of these areas, the odds are high for a “birder aboard” to contribute notable sightings that help scientists and conservations map bird distribution and abundance.

Here are a few examples of how cruisers can be “the eyes on the water” for birds:

* Sailing vessel s/v Aventura, with the Blue Planet Odyssey through the Northwest Passage, photographed a rare white morph Gyrfalcon cliff-nesting on an island in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago. Their sighting adds to a lone 1999 historical report of a Gyrfalcon at the same location.

A rare white Gyrfalcon spotted among the cliffs and icebergs
of the Northwest Passage. Photo ©Doina Cornell.

* A 24-year-old who crossed the Atlantic with his father as part of the Atlantic Odyssey fleet, captured stunning photographs of a Trindade Petrel about 1,000 miles east of Martinique. A Trindade Petrel also was reported independently by Dorothy Wadlow on s/v Joyant about 900 miles east of Antigua. Trindade Petrel is a recently split species, considered vulnerable with uncertain global population and range.

A striking capture of a fast-flying ocean bird, a Trindade Petrel at home a thousand miles from shore. Photo ©Michael Sammer.

* Two homeschooled children, ages 10 and 11, logged all the birds they saw during their two-week transatlantic, scoring a Red-billed Tropicbird and Masked Booby closer to Cape Verdes than their expected stronghold in the Caribbean.

* In that same fleet, s/v Gemm and s/v Fleur de Sel documented flocks of Cattle Egrets in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, over a thousand miles from Africa or South America. The Cattle Egret has had one of the most wide-reaching and rapid expansions from its native range in Africa, spreading northward through South and North America since first sighted in Guiana in 1877. They are presumed to have flown across the Atlantic Ocean, given that immature Cattle Egrets will disperse up to 3,100 miles from their breeding area. So Lanzarote to Martinique (the Atlantic Odyssey’s passage) is just a jump across the pond!

* Circumnavigator Ellen Massey Leonard collected photos from her and her husband’s round-the-world passage on 38-foot s/v Heretic, contributing noon positions for notable sightings such as Cape Petrel further north than expected in the Indian Ocean, a Brown Noddy hitchhiker off the South African coast, and a Pomarine Jaeger near St. Paul Rocks in the central equatorial Atlantic Ocean.

A Brown Noddy claims a radome as its perch halfway between Ascension Island and Barbados. Photo ©Ellen Massey Leonard

* Birding Aboard Advisor and U.K. marine conservationist Colin Speedie on s/v Pelerin sailed through the balmy Lesser Antilles, only to spot several notable birds common to him from his northern home port! These included Great Skua, Pomarine and Parasitic Jaeger, and Cory’s Shearwater.

There were also many reports of hitchhiking land birds, such as Bobolink, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Barn Swallow, Mangrove Swallow, Caribbean Martin, Northern Flicker, and Blackpoll Warbler. These sightings reinforce recent tracking evidence that tiny songbirds are able to migrate long distances over the ocean and are not all “storm waifs.”

A tiny Blackpoll Warbler, a migrant between Canada and South America, rests in the cockpit of s/v Cinderella about 20 miles off the Florida coast.
Photo ©Jaye Lunsford.

Going forward, the project is anticipating exciting reports from Blue Planet Odyssey vessels sailing to Tokelau and Vanuatu, another season of attempts through the Arctic’s Northwest Passage, a sailboat cruising the Scandinavian Arctic, and OceansWatch Donna Lange’s solo circumnavigation. And we hope for even more sightings from coastal and offshore cruisers like you!

 The “SeaBC” Sea Bird Count is:

• A Clean Wake Project of the Seven Seas Cruising Association
• An Environmental Programme of the Ocean Cruising Club
• A Project of the Blue Planet Odyssey

For more information on how to participate, visit www.birdingaboard.org or the Birding Aboard Facebook group.

About Diana Doyle

Diana Doyle and her husband Mark write the Intracoastal Waterway cruising guide series, On the Water ChartGuides. They work- and live-aboard their PDQ catamaran Semi-Local.

Diana holds a 50-ton USCG Master’s License, but she especially loves launching her onboard kayak since it gets her closest to the wildlife.

She also writes for birding magazines and is currently the Tools of the Trade Editor for American Birding Association’s Birding magazine.

More from this website

• Diana Doyle enjoys “birding aboard” as she writes cruising guides
• Women cruisers organize seabird citizen science project, by Diana Doyle
• Chance encounters between ships and whales, by Daria Blackwell