Marina Musings

Magothy River Anchorage, MD

Deciding to go cruising is a long process. Most people who decide to go cruising don't know anyone else doing it personally and have never been out cruising with friends, so the picture of what cruising actually is is pretty indistinct. This was certainly true for us as was evidenced by the fact that we never even thought about the ICW in our planning. We thought about long ocean passages, we thought about weather, we thought about equipment as related to passages and weather, but the idea that we would motor down the ICW some 1000 miles just never even entered our minds.

One of the biggest things we've learned about cruising in general this past year is that it's important to think about what kind of cruiser you want to be, and to be honest with yourself about whether you have the abilities and characteristics to be that kind of cruiser. It will impact the way you prepare to cruise, the things you purchase, the things you bring from your land life, and your expectations. We've said often on this blog in recent months that we always pictured ourselves as blue water cruisers, taking long passages and rarely sitting for long periods of time. This reasoning came as a result of our long passages around New England and with John Kretschmer in the Bahamas, passages where there was adequate crew to ease the load of passage making. The reality of it was that we suffered more from sea sickness than we thought we would, and sail changes at night in bad weather were more stressful than we were comfortable with. We simply didn't enjoy it when we were short handed.

Broad Creek Anchorage, NC

I never really began to think about what kind of cruiser I wanted to be until our friend Kacey came to visit for two weeks. He wanted to spend a prolonged time out “doing it” and toward the end when we had some long, ranging talks about his experiences he said he had decided he was more a liveaboard than a cruiser. It really got me on this train of thought and with every passing month, and with every additional experience, our “kind of cruiser” is being better defined.


So what does this have to do with the title of this blog post? Because for the last month we've been parked at a dock in a marina. It's a nice marina with great reviews on Active Captain, beautiful landscaping, a view of some incredible yachts, good dock mates, and all the conveniences of home. So why do I hate it? Because Kintala can't swing into the wind and the sun doesn't do its ripple reflection thing on the ceiling in the morning, the water is disgusting, there's no dolphins and I've gotten hurt not once, but twice getting on and off the boat at high tide. One kind of cruiser I definitely don't want to be is a marina rat.

Pungo River Anchorage NC

This is not to say that being a marina rat isn't a good thing. For some people. There are a half dozen people here who live full time in the marina, most of them on trawlers of some sort, although a few are on sailboats. If being a liveaboard is your thing then a marina is the place to be. A continuing flow of ice and clean clothes and long showers is not to be taken lightly, and we've been in a few really exceptional ones like Oak Harbor and Barefoot. But would I trade it for a mooring? In a heartbeat.


We've spent a good bit of time on the Vero Beach mooring field, and it's called Velcro Beach for a good reason. Great protection, excellent dinghy dock and lounge/shower/laundry facilities, free bus service, and a beautiful beach. The best beach, though was at Treasure Cay, Abacos. The moorings there are reasonable at $20 a day, and the facilities are great. St. Augustine was one of those places where the mooring field sucked because it's so exposed and the dinghy ride to the dock is long and wet, but the town made up for it with rich history everywhere. More recently we spent quite a bit of time in Coconut Grove at the Dinner Key Mooring Facility. As far as moorings go, the actual mooring field sucks like St. Augustine because it's so exposed. The exposure does give you a fantastic skyline view of downtown Miami and oncoming thunderstorms, fresh air and a nearly constant breeze abound, and the mosquitoes are few if you're out far enough. The reason we would go back there, though, is the staff. Patrick and his staff are without any doubt the most talented customer service division we've seen on a mooring field anywhere. They are helpful, polite, prompt, knowledgeable, and make you feel like you're the only reason they're there. And yet...

From the dock at Oriental, NC

We would still rather anchor out when given the choice. We are almost always happier when we are cozied up in a cove somewhere either by ourselves or with a couple other boats. It's best if the water is clear, the bottom sandy, and the weather warm, but we've equally enjoyed some cold, gray, stormy anchorages with cups of coffee and warm sweatshirts. We've anchored up rivers in Maryland, in inlets in South Carolina, in bays in North Carolina, along long stretches of beach in the Abacos, in a tiny cove in Egg Island, Eleuthra, in Middle River, FL, and right smack dab in the middle of Nassau. Each one has had its own flavor, each one serves to meet a mood.

Camp LeJeune Anchorage

After a year of thinking about this all, here's my Pros and Cons list for each. What kind of cruiser are you?

Marinas

Pros	Cons
Air conditioning in hot climates, heat in cold.	Noise: other boats, road and city traffic, neighbors
Easy access to groceries, trash, water, electricity, laundry, and sometimes (if you're very lucky) wifi	Wifi rarely works
You get to meet more people	You have to put up with people that you may not care for
Easier to work on the boat	Harder to go sailing since you're established in one place
Ice Cream Access: 10	Wakes from passing power boaters
	You spend WAY more money because everything is so accessible
No need for a dinghy dock	Hard to get on and off the boat when docks are not floating. Easy to get hurt.
No running the generator.	Power at the dock is low quality and we've had two shore power cords burn in 7 years.
	Services vary wildy for the same money. The best marina we ever stayed in cost 1/3 of our current dock.

Charleston, SC anchorage

Moorings

Pros	Cons
More stable ride since the boat always swings into the wind	Sometimes exposed
Good ventilation since the boat swings into the wind	Sometimes relatively expensive. Quality is inconsistent
Less worry about dragging in high winds	You need to know the quality of the mooring
Relatively accessible to services like groceries, banks, laundry, etc., depending on the mooring	You spend more money than anchoring
You can run the generator but...	Some people don't want to hear it
Most mooring fields have cruiser nets to facilitate getting to meet people	For some reason jet skis feel it is their personal duty to run high speed through mooring fields. Honestly. Every one we've been in.
Dinghy dock available
Ice Cream Access: 8

South Beach Miami Anchorage

Anchorages

Pros	Cons
Freedom. You rarely have anyone telling you what to do, anchoring well is a challenge and builds skill	You're totally responsible for your safety
You pick the view	Services vary depending on where you pick
Free	Sometimes harder to meet people
Ventilation is good since the boat always swings into the wind	Sometimes people can anchor too close or be obnoxious
Did I mention free?	Ice Cream Access: Dependent on location, but usually around a 4
4G cell internet available in most populated areas, even in the Bahamas. We were rarely without it	Wifi is rarely available without an extender, and even with one most wifi is password protected now
Privacy is excellent	Dinghy docks are hard to come by and usually cost
You can run the generator whenever you feel like it

No-Name Harbor, FL

Hatchet Bay, Eleuthra Anchorage

Dinner Key Mooring Facility, FL

Book Review - Sailing A Serious Ocean

A good thing about being jammed up in Oriental for a couple of weeks is that our copy of John Kretschmer's new book "Sailing A Serious Ocean" caught up with us.  A disclaimer first; Deb and I have sailed with John on Quetzal, been to his house and had dinner with his family, and have recommended friends sail with him as well.  He is a friend.

John is in his world of sailing what I used to be in mine of aviation; a hard core professional who has earned his way, up close and personal, in a vast, sometimes violent, potentially lethal environment.  He has survived close calls with skill and an iron determination to never give up ... leavened by a little bit of luck.  He has written several books. I have read and enjoyed them all.  But this last one is a step above.  His writing skills are a match for his sailing expertise.  For those of us who are new to his world, or are working to join it some day, "Sailing a Serious Ocean" is a "must read" for gaining solid advice about what kind of boat it takes to face big water on its own terms.  John's opinions on the boats, equipment, sails, and gear are hard earned, offered without excuses by a man who has nursed all kinds of boats through all kinds of conditions.  Some of the boats, and some of the gear, were barely up to the task.  It is good to know of these things before one casts off the lines to join him "out there".

When it comes to what it takes, as a person, to face the sea on its own terms, "Sailing a Serious Ocean" is more than a must read; it sets a new standard.  John's candid tales of his own experiences, the times he should have made a different decision, are also offered without excuses.   The events he - and his crews - had to face as a result of those decisions are a revelation.  In my world of aviation a crisis normally lunges, proves deadly or is handled in a matter of seconds or minutes or, at most, tens of minutes, and passes by with the adrenalin still coursing though your veins.  In John's world the crisis builds to a crescendo that may last for hours, or days.  The sky will kill you quick and dead, but the ocean will break you first, attempt to disassemble your boat from under you, batter the crew to exhaustion, wear out the resolve to keep going ...

Yet somehow "Sailing a Serious Ocean" avoids making the realities of going to sea in a small boat sound terrifying.  Instead of scaring off the hopeful sailor John leaves the impression that most of us can do this.   He learned to find his way.  The hundreds of people who have sailed with him often stepped up, did what had to be done, and learned to find their way.  And we can learn to find ours.  His love for ocean, for the challenge, and for the rewards of sharing his world with others glows from every chapter.  The side bars on sailing weather, navigation, boats, and gear are the information every cruiser is seeking.

It is a serious ocean.  John is a serious sailor.  And this is a serious book.  But it is also a great read and should not be missed by anyone looking to do a serious thing.

Chicago!

The train pulled into St. Louis from the Chicago boat show at 0200 this morning thus bringing a close to my favorite trip of the year. Boats, trains, meeting old friends, spending a little $$ on knick-this and knack-that, too much fun. I got me a set of fids, determined to become a line-splicing guru and banishing fraying knots from my boat forever. We also brought home a couple of tethers, having debated the issue long enough. And, having met a vastly experienced sailing friend who put one in his boat, I came pretty close to talking myself into repowering Kintala with a new Beta Marine motor. Not quite there yet, but the idea of replacing our old, worn, leaking Westerbeke of questionable reliability has me polishing my wrenches with a gleam in my eye.

As always there were lots of pretty boats, nearly all of them clearly designed to sit at the dock and impress your friends. Still, Deb finally got on board one modern boat she was forced to admit was rather nice - a Beneteau Oceanis 41. And yet, if I ever get Kintala to the mechanical condition I want, I'm pretty sure our 1983 Tartan will be a better offshore cruising boat than a 2013 Beneteau Oceanis 41. The exception to the "pretty boat" syndrome was the Blue Jacket 40. We climbed on board to check it out and, down below, sat Bob Johnson. Yep the real Bob Johnson, co-designer of the Blue Jacket, guru of all things Island Packet, and designer of Nomad. So what do I do face to face with a living legend of the sailboat universe? Insult him of course.

You see, the Blue Jacket has an interior somewhat like Kintala, but with a unique fold up table that works around the keel stepped mast. Deb's eye went straight to it and she asked Mr. Johnson if he would be so kind as to open it up for us. He did of course, and that was that.

"Thanks a lot," I said "Just two minutes in your boat and you managed to add another two week project to my "to-do" list." I meant it in jest of course, I was as taken with the table design as Deb and already laying out the necessary wood parts in my mind. But I fear it didn't come out that way - ah well, nothing but class - that's me. I doubt Mr. Johnson is too concerned about my opinion on anything - rightly so. And he seemed genuinely pleased at how much we had loved our little Com-Pac 27.

For all of the fun this boat show was a bit of a disappointment. Pretty, "mine is bigger than yours" boats also set the tone for the rest of the show. I wanted to learn about setting up solar panels on a serious cruising boat. There were no solar panels in sight. I wanted to learn about wind generators and hydro generators. There were none of those in sight either. There were no Rocna anchors in the building, a disappointment since we have decided the new anchor we bought simply isn't performing as well as we had hoped. All kinds of inflatable dinks were stacked up here and there, but nothing nested or folding or sailing. Much of the personal gear I examined looked like it had been designed by the marketing department. Looks good, but who sees you standing watch on a dark, cold and stormy night passage? There were lots of fancy furling rigs for main sails, but finding information on bullet proof storm sails? Apparently pretty boats don't sail in stormy weather.

And then there is John Kretschmer. We sailed with John on a Bahama's Bash a couple of years ago, enjoyed dinner Friday with him and 20 others who have sailed with him over the years, and attended his "heavy weather" seminar at the show. I took an instant liking to John when we first met, something that is unusual for me. (There are a few on this planet who wonder if I take a liking to anyone at anytime.) The "Pretty Boat" aspect of this show highlighted the reason why I did. In the airplane world there is a small group inside the small group that are paid to fly airplanes - the truly hard core professional. They often started out nursing rag tag equipment through the harshest weather on merciless schedules for fly-by-night freight companies. They shrug their shoulders and crank-up their airplanes while other "pros" go looking for an excuse to cancel. Enroute thunderstorms, destination weather at minimums, forecasts of turbulence or ice or high winds, for this small group it is just part of why they do the job at all. Any twit can fly when the winds are calm, the sun is shining and the runway is dry. More to the point, if they don't go they don't keep the job, don't get paid, can't keep the kids fed and the wife happy. So when they don't go its because going means the sky will kill them, and this bunch is notoriously hard to kill. Some lucky few of this group find their way to jobs that are not nearly as harsh, but the hard-core bred into them over countless dark and stormy hours in lightning-lit cockpits is forever a part of their soul. If they make it to the good life they live easy and, at least among themselves, laugh a lot and tell good stories. There is no easy way to join their ranks and they have no patience for pretenders.

Contrary to what you might think this group is not well liked by "the industry." They don't write articles for the popular flying magazines, sell a lot of books, or get quoted in the popular press in regards to aviation matters. They tend to be gruff, don't much care what other people think, and raise the ire of the talking experts for one simple reason, this small group actually are the best at what they do. They fly airplanes, make flights, and handle weather that gets other people killed. They do it time and time again. And they know from the close calls they have had and the friends they have buried that the sky is not always blue and accommodating, that challenging the elements in man-made machines is not a marketing ploy for advertising shiny new airplanes on the cover of "Flying".

John Kretschmer is of that kind in the sailing world. Touching bases with him again was a breeze of refreshing air during what was otherwise a "Pretty Boat," kind of show. I know that's what sells Beneteaus and Hunters and Catalinas, keeps magazines afloat and people employed. But if that's what I really thought sailing was all about, I wouldn't bother.

And probably, if you are a reader of this blog, neither would you.

It's not about the boat. Really.

I've been following the blog of one of our followers who is a few years behind us in the 5-year plan.  She's in that early stage of Boat Porn and the constant wondering and fretting over the boat that will be required for them to fulfill their dream.  I remember those days, because they were us until just very recently - last April to be exact.  But this weekend we took our annual train ride to Chicago for Strictly Sail and, it being the first boat show we attended where we weren't looking for "The Boat", I confess (in light of all the difficulties we've had with Kintala) to being just a tad worried that I might find myself regretting our choice of the Tartan once we got there and were confronted with all the nice, new, shiny boats. I was genuinely nervous about it and thought about it all the way to Chicago.

As Tim mentioned in his previous post, we had an opportunity to go hear John Kretschmer talk about his Atlantic crossings.  He prefaced his talk by saying that in the early years of your venture into cruising you're all about The Boat.  You want it to be perfect. You fret. You search. You buy. You pimp. Then he made a rather profound statement that was one of those epiphany moments that I seem to be having pretty frequently these days.  "It's not about the boat. It's about the life.  It's about the people."  I'm pretty sure if the Strictly Sail people heard that statement they probably wouldn't ask him back.  They desperately want you to believe that it's ALL about the boat so they can sell you all kinds of new shiny things.  But John's right.  It's about the life. It's about the people. No need for me to have worried at all, because now I can see that Kintala is just exactly the right boat.

Photo Essay of Bahamas Bash 2010 - John Kretschmer Sailing

 The Ship - Quetzal, a 47 foot Kaufman

 Leaving Cooley's Landing at SW 7th Ave.

 Sailing South to Miami for a better aim at crossing the Gulfstream and having some hope at ending up in the Bahamas

 After a night of sailing the West End Bahamas comes into view

 I have my first stamp in my passport and I'm ready to go swimming!

 Quetzal at the dock in West End Bahamas

 The beach at West End, Bahamas

 

 We totally wore John Kretschmer out.  Allen, our chef, takes a quick nap before whipping up his first masterpiece.

 Our dinner is caught and freshly delivered to our dock.  7 lobster tails and 4 conch, cleaned while we watch.

 We were here :)

 

 

Allen the Magnificent preparing our first incredible meal aboard.  From ocean to table in less than 2 hours.

 Mmmmmmmmmmm

Shipmate Glenn from Connecticut takes a turn at the helm

 Downwind sailing at its best with the whisker pole

 Shipmate Sergey from Vancouver takes the helm

Caution:  Objects off port stern quarter are larger than they appear

 John and I escape the sun under our jury-rigged sun shade.

 

 Quetzal's teak decks are awesome!

 Two old friends have some time to catch up

Sergey always kept us laughing

Captain John Kretschmer

 Tim and John talking sailing

 Approaching the cut at Hoffman Cay

Quetzal at anchor at Hoffman Cay

John with Quetzal

 Not exactly the cove at Carlyle Lake...

 Blue Hole at Hoffman Cay

 The rocks around Blue Hole at Hoffman Cay

 Hoffman Cay

 

 

 

 

 

 The Captain hard at work (It's a tough job but someone's gotta do it right?)

 Leaving Hoffman Cay and heading off on the last 24 hour sail to Ft. Lauderdale

 

 

 The mark for the Banks where 3,000ft of water suddenly becomes 20ft right out in the middle of the ocean.

 

Back in Ft. Lauderdale

Oh yeah - it is nearly Christmas, isn't it?

 I'll take this one...

 Sergey doing a wonderful job leading us through the canal back to the dock.

 The welcoming committee at the dock.

Tim trying to ignore the fact that the trip is over