Category: Boat

I’m sorry Dad!

For those of you who don’t know – my Dad was a navigator in the Air Force.

 For those of you who know me well, this fact is hilarious – because I couldn’t navigate my way out of a paper bag with the aid of a GPS.

I’m one of those people that need to drive to a destination at least twice (under the supervision of someone who is not directionally challenged) and preferably walk past it a couple of times to make sure, before admitting I know how to get there. And even then I prefer to have a map just in case.

 

My abysmal sense of direction is somewhat legendary – I’ve gotten lost in teeny tiny one street towns, shopping malls and even some of my friends’ houses. In short, I didn’t inherit the navigation gene. 

 So you can probably hazard a guess at how last night’s navigation lessons went.

 To be fair, the tutor made an heroic effort to get the information through, and in the first hour some of it actually managed to sink in.

Unfortunately the course pretty much starts straight after work and after a while my brain begins to tire and start wandering. By the time he got to the variation between true and magnetic North, it had wandered out the window and was watching the birdies hop around the car park.

They don’t exactly make it easy though. Latitude and Longitude I could handle, but then they took all these perfectly adequate measurement terms and made them mean something else entirely.

So there are 60 minutes in a degree – but minutes in navigation are entirely different to minutes in the real world. Then there is the nautical mile – which just has to be different from your garden variety mile doesn’t it? And don’t even get me started on the two different Norths!

 

Paddy tells me that navigation was deliberately made difficult to stop the rank and file from mutinying and taking over the ship – and I can see why it worked!

I must have looked like I was struggling because the tutor crouched down next to my desk after the session and asked if I was okay with it all. I told him I’d try to work out what I could on my own and then probably come hollaring for help.

I’m sure it will be fine with practice, I just have to get my head to work in a gear that I’m not used to. I feel like I’m back at high school failing miserably to grasp what my maths teacher was trying to tell me. But this time I won’t give up and start writing notes to my classmates or listing David Bowie’s top 10 albums. I’m going to keep trying until I get it.

I know how important it is. It’s rather daunting knowing the a decimal point could be the difference between sailing through clear waters or making friends with a rock, but its also a lot of incentive!

I guess I just find it hard because I don’t like feeling like I can’t do something and it’s been a long time since I have felt that way. I steered my career towards writing because I can do that easily and I guess I’ve subconsciously stayed away from the stuff that makes my brain hurt.

I think I can harness that though – if I don’t like not being able to do something then I guess I just bloody well have to learn how to do it – even if it does take me a little longer to catch on than the rest of the class.

So if you see me thumping a protractor or cursing at a compass, don’t worry – it’s just the learning process!

Starboard stand-on, Port piss off

Is there any red Port left in the bottle?

Starboard stand-on, Port Piss off

If to Starboard red appear, tis your duty to keep clear

I am four weeks into my Boatmasters course (thank you Wellington Coastguard!) and I have ridiculous rhymes and sayings coming out of my ears.

If you see a marker with two black circles on top of each other its a Balls Up to go near it

 

A balls up

 

If someone honks at you five times it mean’s you’ve done something stupid

 

What not to do

 

Having done the Day Skipper course beforehand really helped because it everything wasn’t entirely alien – but there is still so much to remember!

Red lights mean one thing, green and white ones another but unfortunately ‘if it’s lit up light a Christmas tree, keep out of its way’ is not an accepted answer.

 

An ocean-going Christmas tree?

 

I am aware all of this is important – particularly at night and when things are being towed – but I’m a little dubious about the value of some of the information I am memorising. For example –  I do wonder when I will use my newfound knowledge on how to identify a vessel engaged in mine clearance duties.

If Paddy and I end up seeing one of those we’d have to be seriously lost!

 

If we see one of these we have bigger problems that what colour lights its showing!

 

Next week we get stuck into the navigation side of things. I’ve got everything I need – chart, protractor, dividers – except for a sense of direction, so wish me luck!

Starboard stand-on, Port piss off

Is there any red Port left in the bottle?

Starboard stand-on, Port Piss off

If to Starboard red appear, tis your duty to keep clear

I am four weeks into my Boatmasters course (thank you Wellington Coastguard!) and I have ridiculous rhymes and sayings coming out of my ears.

If you see a marker with two black circles on top of each other its a Balls Up to go near it

 

A balls up

 

If someone honks at you five times it mean’s you’ve done something stupid

 

What not to do

 

Having done the Day Skipper course beforehand really helped because it everything wasn’t entirely alien – but there is still so much to remember!

Red lights mean one thing, green and white ones another but unfortunately ‘if it’s lit up light a Christmas tree, keep out of its way’ is not an accepted answer.

 

An ocean-going Christmas tree?

 

I am aware all of this is important – particularly at night and when things are being towed – but I’m a little dubious about the value of some of the information I am memorising. For example –  I do wonder when I will use my newfound knowledge on how to identify a vessel engaged in mine clearance duties.

If Paddy and I end up seeing one of those we’d have to be seriously lost!

 

If we see one of these we have bigger problems that what colour lights its showing!

 

Next week we get stuck into the navigation side of things. I’ve got everything I need – chart, protractor, dividers – except for a sense of direction, so wish me luck!

Stop staring at my bum!

A boat out of water is a sad sight – all awkward and exposed. But it’s a necessary evil to ensure everything is in good shape below the water.

Fish out of water

Living on a boat out of water can be a little unnerving as well – particularly when it’s windy. Being several feet up in the air and swaying from side to side when you are nowhere near the ocean just feels wrong, as does climbing down a ladder to go to work in the morning!

Our longest stint out of the water was a few months ago while Wildflower’s decks were being repainted. We became temporary residents of the Evans Bay yacht club, and for several weeks the sounds of lapping water and ducks were replaced by passing traffic and power tools as people worked on their boats.

Paddy and I had a great time at the yacht club, with the locals embracing us as one of their own – but spending so much time so close to the bar probably didn’t do our livers any good (these guys drink rum and coke by the jug!)

Again, boat life forced me to sort out my coordination issues as I mastered the art of clambering up and down a ladder with any combination of handbag, gym gear and laptop.

Don't look dooown...

Paddy once had the frightening experience of being up out of the water during an earthquake – an experience he says he would rather not repeat! I had my own brush with an out-of-water natural disaster –  it turned out to be a false alarm, but it was still pretty exciting.

While we were parked up at Evans Bay, on the day I was due to sit the theory part of my practical boating course, Paddy and I were woken up by a banging on the side of the boat. It was the club manager telling us to clear out because a tsunami was due to hit in 25 minutes. In autopilot I threw some clothes on, grabbed Bilgey the (stuffed toy) ship’s cat and jumped into the car. We headed up Mt Victoria (and discovered half of Wellington had had the same idea) and waited…and waited…. and nothing happened, not even a little splash. Which was a good thing of course, but I did end up missing my test (everyone else had ignored the tsunami warning and turned up anyway.)  Luckily I was able to sit it in an empty office. I managed to pass but I did make a couple of really stupid mistakes that I blame squarely on my brain being frazzled by the early morning excitement!

While it was fun being honorary members at Evans Bay, it was an enormous relief to be back in the water. I swear I heard Wildflower sigh with pleasure when she was finally lowered back in. The process of getting her back in the water was quite fascinating, involving what appeared (to me at least) to be a giant mutant tractor. It was quite a process and I have included some pics below for those who are interested.

Taking the boat for a walk
Giant mutant tractor
And I thought reversing the car was scary!
Bombs away!
He made it look easy!
Bye bye Evans Bay

PS – please don’t tell Wildflower I put photos of her bottom on the internet – I kinda want to stay on her good side!

The price of safety – or why our govt should walk the plank

For the non-boaties:

The Boatmasters certificate isn’t like a drivers’ licence, you don’t have to have it -but for someone learning the ropes it’s pretty important. It teaches you things like navigation, the rules of the ‘road’, and how to generally keep yourself and your crew safe. It’s something you would hope newbie boaties would be encouraged to get, so it’s pretty surprising that for many New Zealanders it can cost up to $500.

For the non-Kiwis:

Last year our government, in its wisdom, decided to cut adult community education funding by 80%, meaning that thousands of courses that used to be done as secondary school-based night classes have either had to be axed or their prices ramped up to cover costs.

People lost the opportunity to upskill affordably and potentially life-saving courses like boat safety have suffered.

I’m not just getting upset because it could cost me a bit more, I’ll save up and pay what I need to – as far as I’m concerned the price won’t be money, it will be lives.

New Zealand does not have a great maritime safety record. Time and time again tragic accidents have proved to have been entirely preventable if only basic safety procedures had been undertaken. And yes, you could argue that there are some muppets out there who would never bother learning anyway – but, with a record like we have – why would you want to make it more difficult for those who actually want to?

So I’ve had a bit of a nightmare trying to find somewhere that runs the course for a reasonable price, though it looks like the wonderful Wellington Coast Guard will come to my aid – will keep you posted!

It would be cheaper to buy the materials myself and self-study, but with my slight navigational challenges I think the personal touch will be needed!

Back to my original point though, if even one life is lost because someone couldn’t afford to learn how to keep themselves safe then this government has blood on its hands.

Time to consign this lot to the briny deeps methinks!

It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it

There's a fridge under here - honest!

Someone once described cruising as “the art of boat maintenance in exotic locations” – and I am in absolutely no doubt this is true. But what they fail to mention is the large amount of work that needs to be done before setting out for more tropical climes.

Evidence of this is The List – a document Paddy uses to keep track of what needs to be done before hitting the waves. Ever since I have known Paddy The List has been shrinking and growing – as quickly as items were ticked off, more were added, but finally now it seems to be on a downward trend.

One of the biggest jobs to be crossed off  The List involved more dust and mess than I had seen in all the grotty student flats I have lived in put together – and that’s saying something!

Sanding and repainting a boat’s bilges is a once-every-10-years job, and unfortunately Wildflower’s 10 years were up.

Before I met Wildflower I didn’t really know what a bilge was. Through pirate insults like ‘scurvy bilge rat’  I’d kind of figured it was something sewer-like and gross, but that was the extent of my knowledge.

The bilge is actually the inside of the bottom of the boat –  (“the lowest compartment inside the hull of a ship” according to fount of all knowledge that is Wikipedia). It’s where water that overflows from the decks of the ship collects. When there is too much water sloshing about on deck (say during a storm) to make it safe to walk on, the boat is designed to funnel this water to the bottom where it can be sucked out by bilge pumps (this is a very amateur summary so feel free to correct me!)

The scurvy bilge rat insult stemmed from the fact that, along with water, bird poo, food scraps, and bodily waste from dirty sailors of old, also ended up in the bilges – so it really wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Before mechanisation bilges used to have to be pumped by hand and this rather disgusting job was reserved for junior sailors or those that had managed to upset the captain.

So the bilge is actually a pretty important part of the boat – and because bilge water can get quite acidic and generally grotty, it’s important to have a good layer of paint on the bottom to prevent it from eating through.

While this sounds relatively simple, the 10 year repaint actually involves ripping up the floor of the boat, sandblasting what is underneath to within an inch of its life and twisting your body into all sorts of unnatural positions (a practice Paddy has dubbed Boat Yoga) in order to repaint it.

The sandblasting process involved many long nights and weekends and rendered the boat uninhabitable. Paddy ended up living in a backpackers near the marina (aka the Roach Motel) so he could come and go from the boat during whatever insane hours he needed to. The result was more dirt and dust than I actually thought existed in the world.

While I was more hindrance than help with the sandblasting, I really wanted to be able to do something to help Paddy so I embarked on the biggest cleaning expedition of my entire life. While Paddy was playing contortionist with a paintbrush I turned my hair, clothing and skin grey attacking the dust. For a while it was exceedingly frustrating because for every layer of dust I removed a new ones seemed to appear overnight. But it was an incredibly fulfilling feeling when surfaces began to reappear again. It also makes me feel a lot safer knowing exactly what is at the bottom of the boat and that it’s clean and shiny and newly painted.

I am pleased that particular hurdle is over though – Paddy pretty much exhausted himself – but with a stubborn and determined streak a mile wide, he wasn’t going to slow down until the job was done. I’m sure Wildflower appreciates it though – I know I do.

Emerging from the dusty depths
The galley - before
The galley after
The cleaning lady
Bilge undercoat
boat yoga

You may be right, I may be crazy

I’ve just finished reading this book, the taming of the crew, about an insane couple who sold up everything, bought a boat and took their two sons (both under 10 at time of leaving) around the Pacific.

If that wasn’t challenging enough, they then ended up sailing themselves into some of the worst winter storms the area had seen in decades – courtesy of a volcano with an inappropriate sense of timing

They struck gales on just about every passage leg and weathered storms that had other crews abandoning their boats.

Now any sane person would be put off attempting a similar trip after reading that, right? But I’m not. In fact I actually found it reassuring to read about how people coped in really challenging conditions and still had a fantastic, life-changing experience. The only injury was to their eldest son who, after making it unscathed through brutal conditions at sea, broke his arm falling out of a tree at a resort.

And to be fair, that particular family had spectacularly bad luck – weather patterns like that are most definitely not the norm in the Pacific!

It does put in mind the big question though – why on earth am I doing this? Do I need my head read?

I guess a big part of it is that it’s an adventure. I haven’t done the Big OE (overseas experience for non-Kiwi readers) and this is a way of doing it literally. It’s a way of challenging myself (gumby unco Anna on a boat!?) and proving that I can do something that scares me a little.

I’ve also always loved the ocean and sea critters and this is a way of getting to see more of both. When I got my PADI open water diving certificate it was the most amazing feeling. It was something that if you’d told me a couple of years ago I would be doing I would have asked what you’d been smoking. I was afraid but, with the encouragement of the wonderfully patient Paddy, I did it – and it opened up a whole new world. I get the feeling this trip will be the same, but on a grander scale. I’m going into this with my eyes open. I know there will be times when I’m cold and I’m scared and I’m miserable – but I also know there are some incredible experiences in store, and I’ll get to meet a whole lot more sea critters in the process!

And it’s not just the critters I’m looking forward to meeting – it’s the people as well. The other cruising nutters who have run away to sea and the people who live in the islands. There’s only so much you can do in a two-week holiday on a tropical island. Being able to stick around longer will give us time to try to understand people and see how they really live. I’ve visited  a couple of Pacific islands doing the two-week tourist thing and one of the things that upset, but also amazed me, was the level of  poverty and the  friendliness of the people who were living in it. It was hard knowing that the camera you were wearing around your neck was probably worth more than their house – but the bitterness just wasn’t there. I’d like to be able to help out in some way – even if it’s just bringing blankets and clothes over with us, or helping plant stuff in a village.

The other thing I am looking forward to doing is stopping for a while  – taking time to chill out, get some stuff read, get a couple of trashy novels written and to just be – I haven’t done that for a very long time.

So that’s why I’m doing it (that and I’m rather fond of the Skipper!) I’ve got a lot more to learn before I’m ready to go and I’m looking forward to the challenge!

Drugs are good mmmkay?

Drugs are good mmmkay?
Me on Paihia Bombs in Queen Charlotte Sounds

A word about seasickness medication – don’t knock it. And for the love of Neptune, if you aren’t used to sailing, don’t try to be macho and tough it out without it.

I learned that one the hard way during my first Cook Strait crossing on the way to Queen Charlotte Sounds. I did the whole “I don’t get motion sickness, I don’t need drugs” routine.

Big mistake.

To be fair we had a horribly sloppy sea with 4/5 m swells, so it wasn’t going to be a comfortable trip anyway – but I’m sure I would have been able to handle that fine if I’d just taken the damn pills!

Instead I spent the latter part of the trip hugging a bucket.

There is a much more scientifically accurate way to say this but basically motion sickness happens when your inner ear starts squabbling with your eyes. Your inner ear tells you that you’re moving while your eyes are convinced you are staying still – your tummy then decides to opt out of the whole argument by expelling its contents. Repeatedly.

That’s why they tell you to keep an eye on the horizon – that puts your eyes and your brain back on the same page. Unfortunately, on that particular trip, I was too far gone for that trick to work so poor old Paddy ended up bringing the boat in single-handedly while I wedged myself in a corner and refused to move.

One of the worst things you can do if you are prone to motion sickness is go below deck, because then you have no reference point – and that was exactly what I did. I went below to go to the toilet and when I came back it was all on. Lesson learned.

Some people don’t like taking drugs because they can make you drowsy, but Paddy has discovered an answer for that in some awesome little pills called Paihia Bombs. These work for 24 hours so you can take them the night before, get a good night’s sleep and be alert in the morning without getting sick. They rock!

My second brush with seasickness was very Monty Python. We were holidaying in Vanuatu and went out fishing on a charter boat. I didn’t even think about taking seasickness pills because we weren’t going that far out. But the boat was a lot smaller than Wildflower and therefore a lot rockier. It all happened so fast. One minute I was sitting up the front of the boat and the next I was doubled up over the side (NOT a safe position to be in – another lesson learned). Again I wedged myself into a corner with a bucket and again was so paraliticly sick I couldn’t move. Unfortunately the spot I had chosen was right in front of the fishing rods and people were having to climb over me to get at them.

This was fine until Paddy managed to land a 7kg mahimahi, which clobbered me in the head on its way aboard. So, ladies and gentlemen, I have actually been slapped in the face with a wet fish – and it wasn’t a pleasant experience!

The funny thing about seasickness is that while you are going through it, it feels like you are dying, but the second the motion ceases it all goes away. That’s because your body isn’t actually sick, it’s just really confused.

And before you start worrying Mum, I have been out plenty of times since then and haven’t been sick at all. Apparently it takes about three days in the open ocean before your body gets used to the motion. In the meantime though, the drugs are working for me so I’m sticking with them!

And I got the last laugh on the fish in the end – it was delicious!

Sailing home from the Sounds (only decent bit of wind we got!)
The offending fish
Revenge is scrummy!

Drugs are good mmmkay?

Drugs are good mmmkay?
Me on Paihia Bombs in Queen Charlotte Sounds

A word about seasickness medication – don’t knock it. And for the love of Neptune, if you aren’t used to sailing, don’t try to be macho and tough it out without it.

I learned that one the hard way during my first Cook Strait crossing on the way to Queen Charlotte Sounds. I did the whole “I don’t get motion sickness, I don’t need drugs” routine.

Big mistake.

To be fair we had a horribly sloppy sea with 4/5 m swells, so it wasn’t going to be a comfortable trip anyway – but I’m sure I would have been able to handle that fine if I’d just taken the damn pills!

Instead I spent the latter part of the trip hugging a bucket.

There is a much more scientifically accurate way to say this but basically motion sickness happens when your inner ear starts squabbling with your eyes. Your inner ear tells you that you’re moving while your eyes are convinced you are staying still – your tummy then decides to opt out of the whole argument by expelling its contents. Repeatedly.

That’s why they tell you to keep an eye on the horizon – that puts your eyes and your brain back on the same page. Unfortunately, on that particular trip, I was too far gone for that trick to work so poor old Paddy ended up bringing the boat in single-handedly while I wedged myself in a corner and refused to move.

One of the worst things you can do if you are prone to motion sickness is go below deck, because then you have no reference point – and that was exactly what I did. I went below to go to the toilet and when I came back it was all on. Lesson learned.

Some people don’t like taking drugs because they can make you drowsy, but Paddy has discovered an answer for that in some awesome little pills called Paihia Bombs. These work for 24 hours so you can take them the night before, get a good night’s sleep and be alert in the morning without getting sick. They rock!

My second brush with seasickness was very Monty Python. We were holidaying in Vanuatu and went out fishing on a charter boat. I didn’t even think about taking seasickness pills because we weren’t going that far out. But the boat was a lot smaller than Wildflower and therefore a lot rockier. It all happened so fast. One minute I was sitting up the front of the boat and the next I was doubled up over the side (NOT a safe position to be in – another lesson learned). Again I wedged myself into a corner with a bucket and again was so paraliticly sick I couldn’t move. Unfortunately the spot I had chosen was right in front of the fishing rods and people were having to climb over me to get at them.

This was fine until Paddy managed to land a 7kg mahimahi, which clobbered me in the head on its way aboard. So, ladies and gentlemen, I have actually been slapped in the face with a wet fish – and it wasn’t a pleasant experience!

The funny thing about seasickness is that while you are going through it, it feels like you are dying, but the second the motion ceases it all goes away. That’s because your body isn’t actually sick, it’s just really confused.

And before you start worrying Mum, I have been out plenty of times since then and haven’t been sick at all. Apparently it takes about three days in the open ocean before your body gets used to the motion. In the meantime though, the drugs are working for me so I’m sticking with them!

And I got the last laugh on the fish in the end – it was delicious!

Sailing home from the Sounds (only decent bit of wind we got!)
The offending fish
Revenge is scrummy!

Introducing Wildflower

Wildflower at the marina

Wildflower is a 44ft steel yacht. She’s named after a Tom Petty song and I think she’s beautiful.

Granted I did come along when she was looking her best. About 10 years ago Paddy was living in her while she was sans ceiling and floor. He had to balance on beams and duck under exposed wires. In contrast the Wildflower I know has a lovely wooden interior and all the mod cons, including microwave and internet.

I’ve been asked a lot of questions about her so figured the best way to do this would be Q and A format  – if anyone has any other questions just let me know, I may have to forward the more technical ones on to Paddy though.

Q: (the first question asked by any female before stepping on the boat) Is there a toilet and does it work?

A: Yes – its a fancy electric toilet so you don’t need to pump it to flush it, it does however sound a little like a lawnmower chewing gravel when you flush it!

Q: Do you have hot water?

A: Yep – its heated by gas, so hot showers are not a problem (as long as there is enough water in the tanks!)

Q: What do you do for electricity?

A: The same thing as everyone else when we are at the marina. When we are out at sea we have a kick arse generator (built by Paddy) to do the job for us.

Q: What happens if you run out of fresh water at sea?

A: We make our own (technical details will have to be left to Paddy!)

Q: Don’t you get in eachother’s way in such a small space?

A: This is one of the many plus sides of being munchkin sized, it honestly isn’t an issue for me (and to be honest its not much smaller than my flat!)

Q: Yes – but living with someone on a boat and visiting someone on a boat are two very different things. Are you sure  you will cope?

A: I live on the boat at the weekends and a couple of nights during the week and we’ve taken the boat away on trips together and we haven’t had any problems so I’m pretty confident we’ll be fine.

Q: So why don’t you just move onto the boat now then?

A: There is another man in my life – 6kgs of spoilt black feline that has travelled up and down the country with me over the past 7 years. He kinda got in first.

Q: What are you going to do with the cat when you go away?

A: Ollie is going into borstal with a lovely catlady who does longterm stays. I know it would be cheaper to leave him with a friend, but I’d worry. This way I definitely know he’ll be there when I get back.

Q: Why don’t you just take the cat with you? people have ships cats don’t they?

A: Cats are fine at sea if you start them off as kittens but they have very sensitive inner ears and an adult cat that is not used to a boat will just get horribly sick. Ollie has stayed on the boat in the marina though and has been fine – unfortunately his desire to go exploring loudly around the boat in the wee small hours of the morning had him dangerously close to taking swimming lessons, so I don’t think he’ll be invited back again!

Any other question hopefully will be answered by these photos:

The Galley
Paddy in the 'library' - before it underwent a big cleanup!
Looking up from inside
Big Red the engine - who lives under the stairs

Sleeping berth
Ollie hanging out with Bilgey the ship's cat in the forward cabin

Wildflower’s bottom

Main cabin/sleeping berth