A bit of a boat

Another winter weekend though we are starting to edge above freezing for the daytime highs. A little more snow is due to pass by but, given the beating the east coast has been taking, it seems kind of weenie to complain. In addition to the weather Deb had a bunch of things to do today, so heading to the boat wasn't really an option. Among the things she needed to do was getting a new cell phone. I don't think she really wanted a new cell phone but her's was ready to upgrade, mine wasn't, and I needed a new one.

Why did I need a new one, you ask?

Well, somehow, somewhere, at some point in my travels yesterday, I went one way and my cell phone went someplace else. That "someplace else" is a complete mystery. I had it, then I didn't. Retracing my steps to where I had it last proved fruitless. So I made the loop again just to make sure I was wasting my time. At least on the boat, when I lose something, I can be pretty sure it is at the bottom of the lake and so stop looking for it. In any case I have caught back up to the 21st century by having my service switched over to Deb's old phone.

I wasn't near the boat today, but there are a few bits of the boat near to me. And so I decided it was time to pretend the season is near. Out in the shop I cranked up my little heater, loaded up the palm sander with a fresh round of 60 grit, and went after Nomad's cockpit teak grids. To give you some idea of how rough they had gotten I ground though nearly 5 hours of 60 grit. It didn't need to be that much, they are only floor boards after all. But that is one of my favorite parts of jobs like this. I can grind away to my heart's content, making dust until the grids are smooooooooth like glass, or bailing out at any point and just finishing the job. (My grandfather taught me a long time ago, getting it perfect is always the enemy of getting it done.)

But even being around a piece of a boat can make for a good day. Out in the shop, working away, listening to some tunes and drinking a cold one (or two, gotta wash the dust out once in a while) is not a bad way to spend time. I don't know that I'll finish this job tomorrow, but this is an easy one. There is a lot more work to do but it will have to keep for a bit longer. The shop is just big enough for bits off the boat.

Winter chores

It is cold outside. Some snow fell last night, more is expected tomorrow night. It seemed a good weekend to stay warm and dry, maybe crank up the fireplace, hit Netflix for a movie, and just bum our way through yet another endless winter weekend.

So of course Deb and I headed for the Marina. It was cold at the Marina as well but we didn't really care. It was just good to be back at one of our favorite places.



Unfortunately, when I put Nomad up on the hard I didn't have the covers with me. Since then we have simply been inundated with travel, holidays and flu bugs. As a result the covers never got installed. And as one would expect, this is what we found.




So this is what we did next.




With her decks clear and drying in the winter sun Deb and I retreated to the clubhouse for lunch. After some warm food we walked the docks to get some items from our dock box and climbed back aboard. We installed the cabin cover and boom tent, cleaned out the cockpit scuppers, (packed full of ice and pine needles) retied a couple of lines, and added a little anti-freeze to the head and bilge. While closing up a large flock of King pelicans flew over the marina. They were pointed dead into the North wind and didn't appear to be making much progress. As we watched they sort of veered off to the east, apparently deciding they had gone as far as they needed this day and it was time to find a place to wait out yet another cold night.

By this time Deb and I were chilled to the bone so we headed back to the CWE. I think I'll dial up Netflix next, and there is still a little wood left for a fire. The pelicans had the right idea.

Stop the Train...

...I want to get on.

The Chicago boat show weekend was a complete success and the tone was set as soon as we entered the train station. What a civilized way to travel! No x-rays, no constant computer-voice announcements from our friends from the TSA, and they didn't ask for my shoes or take my 10 oz. of shampoo. We walked out to the train and climbed on. The aisles were wide enough to pass another person without getting intimate details. There was room between the seats even with the seat back in front of you reclined. Each seat had its own, easily reached, AC plug to run electronics, (maybe 1/4 of the travelers were working on a laptop or watching a movie) and no one cared if the tray was down for departure or arrival. There were no seat-belt announcements, there were no seat belts! If I can't be on a sailboat at least put me on a train.

Chicago (this year anyway) was a mono-hull show. A lone Island Packet Estero sat kind of "up front," but as much as I want to like that boat it just doesn't tickle me at all. I'm done looking at it. The J-boats aren't my thing, and a few other strays couldn't entice us back for more than one visit. We found ourselves circling though the 4 big displays of Beneteau, Jenneau, Hunter, and Catalina.

Catalina 445 cockpit

The Catalina 445 barely edged out the Hunter 49 as the "best in show" as far as Deb and I are concerned. Everything on the 445 seems to be done just right. I couldn't find any real faults with the Hunter so this was pretty close to a coin toss. But both those boat are at the "long" end of the scale of "hulls for two people."

Hunter 49

Right in the middle of that list sat the Jenneau 39i, Hunter 39, and Beneteau 40. Hunter barely lost out to Jenneau, this time the lack of a separate shower stall tipping the scale. It seems a minor thing, but who wants to wipe down the toilet after every shower? And (to my eye anyway) the high tech window shapes on the Hunter detracted from its looks. The Beneteau 40 lagged a few boat lengths back. Deb didn't care for the galley and the settees just didn't sit very well. (I'm still fond of the 43, but Beneteau insists on mounting the sinks along the port side. Deb wants to see them nearer the center line of the boat.) The Jenneau 39i hit every note true and its variable position nav station was unique. I would really like to look at the 42i, though all of these boats are serious $$.

Hunter 39 Salon

In the "too short but still really nice" category the Catalina 375 looked like a wonderful boat. The fold up table made the main salon area huge and user friendly. Truth to tell, Deb allowed as that living on a Catalina 375 would still be pretty good living. Catalina didn't bring their 40, but several people at the show spoke highly of that boat. We'll have to look one up sometime.

Hunter 39 Galley

Catalina 375 Galley

Tim standing in Hunter 49 galley

Things we liked? I am really fond of the Hunter arch, and Deb constantly gave the Hunters the edge in the galley department. I thought the Catalina 445 port side "work room" was a really good idea, and both of us have grown fond of twin helm cockpits. And as usual, I walked about from this boat show thinking I could call nearly any of these boats "home" without much problem (or prompting) at all.

Things I didn't like? It is still winter, it will be nearly 10 weeks still until Nomad is back in the water, and I don't own any of the boats that we looked at in Chicago.

Catalina 375

Hunter 49 Centerline V-berth

Sunshine! Warm Temps! Boats!

Looking at boats in Ft. Lauderdale is not a bad way to spend a day; particularly when it is snowing in St. Louis. (Sorry Pretty Lady!) If you look at catamarans in Ft. Lauderdale keep in mind that The Catamaran Company owns 2-Hulls. I didn't really know that so I called 2-Hulls, got hooked up with Michael, and we agreed to meet at their company dock to look around.

Michael, as it turns out, is a busy man these days. It also turns out that he works for the Catamaran Company and not 2-Hulls. Or maybe he works for both? Anyway, talking to a "fish," (that would be me) who has been talking to a different broker from the same company for a couple of years, (that would be Brent) was not high up on Michail's list of things he needed to be doing this day. He took it well though, and showed me around a 2005 Lagoon 380 they have for sale. I learned a lot from Michael in a short time...

One 2005 Lagoon 380 = around $330,000. I think a stack of $100s just a bit over a foot high (about $297,000 worth) would be enough for them to let you take it home. (Or move aboard as the case may be.) Figure one borrowed about $150,000 of that stack at 6.5% interest and wanted to pay it off in 10 years, one would owe de-bank just a tick over $20,000 per year. (According to Michael don't even think of asking unless your credit score is 730 or better.)

So let's see. A job on the East Coast where I bring home maybe 66K / year. Less de-banks 20K leaves 46K to live on. Food and stuff, (rum) slip fee, odds and ends...35K a year? That's still 11K worth of fudge factor not including any "outside" (as in outside Uncle Sam's knowledge) income.

Other odds and ends. According to Michael (who has sailed them all) the older Leopard 38s are tanks, slow, heavy in the water and no match for the Lagoon 380. (I know, I know!) But the New Leopard 38? Apparently that is a cat of a different color. Lighter, fast on its feet and as good as any other 2 hulled boat of a similar LWL. And here's what I find interesting, the 2005 Lagoon selling price is withing a dock line's throw of that for a new Leopard 38. Things that make you go, "Mmmm."

All of this, of course, is just musing in the sunshine. It isn't like we are in any position to write such a check. (Even assuming my "back of the napkin" math isn't wildly optimistic.) Unless things change a bit (A big bit!) it seems unlikely we will ever be able to write such a check. But just imagine how much fun it would be to do just that.

Broker in tow, thinking he is wasting his time with this scruffy looking, middle aged wanna-be, but being professional about it anyway.

"That's a nice boat. I'll take it."

Now that would be a good day.

Plans are just...plans

The plan was to be posting from Nomad, even if it meant sitting on the hard and wrapped in layers to try and stay warm. Alas, I am warm and dry, sitting in the Central West end, my butt getting sore from sitting in this chair. Right now a "good" morning is defined as one where I don't feel any worse when I wake up than I did when I went to bed. This is proving to be one of the longest winters I can remember.

A good thing is that we have been kind of slow at work. I have been able to dog it a bit, not pushing too hard and maybe making a little ground on this thing. But next week is back at it, starting with a 3 day trip to FL. (Yeah! Sunshine! Warm Temps! Boats!) Come the weekend Deb and I head to Chicago for the boat show. We are going to take a train, stay within walking distance of the exhibition hall, and do our best to have some fun. (I think being around boats will cure us both!)

Feeling good or no it will be good to be back in motion. This enforced rest, (even to the point of being all day in a single room) would seem a non-issue for someone who wants to spend weeks on a single boat. Even the biggest boat we can imagine buying would not fill our back yard, the main cabin area much smaller than the living room I currently occupy.

Of course the living room doesn't move...

Real boats

I would love to write a post about the work being done on Nomad, or about how she is about to splash, or how we fared on our first night at anchor of the new season but... There has been no work completed yet, Nomad isn't about to splash, and the season seems a long, long...long way away.

Not that boats don't dominate our spare time. A common question around here is, "What is the boat of the day?" Meaning a boat one of us spotted on the web that fired up our imaginings of getting gone. Right now Deb is pretty fond of a Tayana 42 called "Wanderlust" that is being sold out of Norwalk, Connecticut (http://www.sailboatlistings.com/view/10688). Me? I'm still clinging to my catamaran musings.

Next weekend, hopefully, we will get back to more than musings. With a little help from the weather and some hope of finally shaking the illness that has dogged both of us this winter, we plan to lay hands on Nomad once again. The weekend after that, a train ride to the Chicago Boat Show. It will be good to see real boats again, not just pictures on websites.

A Belated Christmas Present

I know it's totally ridiculous, but I feel like a kid on Christmas morning. After two years of procrastinating, I finally got around to applying for my passport and it arrived yesterday. Wooooo hoooooo! I guess we can leave now :)

Allergic to Landlubbing

I've decided I'm allergic to landlubbing. The day we got home from the boat show in October I got sick with a really bad cold/flu that may have been a version of the piggy flu. It took me all of the way to the middle of December to declare I was over it. That would be my first mistake.

We traveled to Pittsburgh to visit the various branches of our family over the New Year's weekend and I managed to bring home a virulent version of the cold that was pervasive throughout the Pittsburgh area. It's now 5 degrees outside (not including the wind chill which is taking it to -20) and I am spending the weekend on the sofa bed doing absolutely nothing till Monday morning so I can try to beat this thing. I'm well stocked with Constant Comment tea, Puffs lotion tissues, Vicks vapo rub, a large pump dispenser of Germ-X and the best blessing of the century, a husband who knows how to build a terrific fire and folds a mean load of laundry.

For the next 48 hours I'm going to sit here looking at boats and reading Cruising World magazines, and wishing desperately for some fresh air and sunshine to blow this virus away.

New Year

So 2010 finally arrived. When this last trip to visit family ends on Monday we will start settling into the winter routine. "What," one might ask "is the winter routine?" Mostly it consists of waiting for spring and the new sailing season it will bring.

I do hope to start making it out to Nomad starting this next week. A couple of big projects loom before she splashes so there is probably some "working in the cold" lurking in my future. This is the first winter we have owned Nomad that she has been out of the water, so this is the first winter I will be working on the boat on the hard. I can't say I am looking forward to the prospect with a lot of enthusiasm. Still, cold or no I'll be working on a boat, our boat, so how bad can that be?

Of course some might wonder something similar about this next near...how bad can it be? A fair question given the one that just past, and the couple that passed before it. A lot of people have had a pretty rough go. But on the other hand, maybe it can't get much worse? Either way Deb and I will work toward this being a year that gets us 12 months closer to living on a boat.

Aerial View

I went past the lake this morning...at about 500 mph and 4 miles in the sky. The Gateway Four departure out of the St. Louis area runs just about over the north end of Lake Carlyle. I could pick out the Marina but was a bit too high to see individual boats on the parking lot, though I assume little Nomad is resting fine in her metal cradle. It has been nearly a month since I sat in her cockpit, travel and illness keeping me away from the lake. And I can't say that I like it much.

For those of you wondering...no, our little "near jet" doesn't normally climb while doing better than 500 MPH over the ground. But a tailwind of nearly 130 MPH sure helps. Level at 37,0000 feet, a TAS of 465 MPH and a tailwind of 160 MPH, had us hauling the mail eastbound just at 625 MPH. We made St. Louis to New Bedford, MA in less than 2 hours. Sadly we are due out of here in an hour or so, heading to the Baltimore area for the night. Otherwise I would be visiting Daughters, Sons-in-Law, and grand kids today!

Flying over the coast into the New Bedford airport was a blast. We passed over two aircraft carriers sitting at a dock a few miles east of here. The multiple islands fanning out into the open ocean, the marinas, the towns nestled right up to the shores, this is a place I am looking forward to seeing from the deck of a sailboat someday soon.



Here's what it looks like from around 30,000 feet! Kind of hard to pick out the details.

Depth of Field

I spend a good bit of my week at work doing graphics for marketing materials for the aviation parts company that I work for. I was working on some pictures this past week of a group of long hoses that our hose shop sells and my manager chose the picture he wanted for a brochure but made the comment that he wanted a longer depth of field on the hoses. "You need to get these fully in focus, Deb." he said.

It's funny how very small, simple statements like that can have a profound impact. Later that evening I began reading the copy of The Voyager's Hanbdook by Beth Leonard that had just arrived courtesy of Amazon. She spends a good deal of time in the early chapters talking about the cost of cruising and encourages her readers to honestly evaluate their financial readiness to embark on the path to the fulfillment of their dreams. After completing the chapter I opened a new Excel file and began to jot some figures down.

Somewhere between "Current Savings" and "Annual Income - Post Retirement" a remarkable shift began to take place. Until this point, my dream of retiring to a sailboat has been something akin to sailing along in New England fog...a vague image of a boat and shores unknown, with no clear picture of the details. In fact, the "dream boat" has been some odd conglomerate of catamaran and monohull, the journey somewhere between Cape Cod and the "Islands", and the time frame somewhere between now and "I've fallen and I can't get up...the companionway". Thanks to Beth Leonard's countless hours of research and personal cruising experience, and the volunteered information from so many of her cruising friends, out of the fog sailed a mid to late 80's 36-40 foot, cutter-rigged monohull firmly in the middle of my figures. Depth of field is still a little shallow, the boat isn't fully in focus yet, but my dream has gone from maybe...possibly...want it to be...to a budget in my spreadsheet. A budget that I can make work. A budget that can buy a real blue-water crusing boat. But what boat, you say? Hmmmmmmm I'm focusing...stay tuned.

Downsizing

Downsizing. It is a constant theme among those who are working on moving off the land. Deb and I did a little downsizing this past week. I drove the truck nearly 2600 miles last week, from St. Louis to Pittsburgh to Cape Code and back to St. Louis. Once home I cleaned it up, ran it through the car wash, drove it over to a dealer and traded it in on a Nissan 350Z. We hope this is the last car we ever buy and that it will be the one that we drive to the boat. I'm pretty sure this doesn't fit most people's idea of "downsizing" since the car cost about the same per month as the truck, the insurance is a little more, and we used up some savings to make the deal happen. But the Z will fit in the garage and, when we do head for the boat, it will get us there faster!

The main purpose of the truck trip was to deliver the last of Kristin and Brian's belongings to their new home in Cape Cod. Scheduling pressures kept my time there to barely 36 hours but it was an excellent visit. Saying good-by to Amber, Kristin, Mike, Brian, Catherine, May-may and Christopher, so much of my heart living in one place, was pretty hard. The idea of having a boat anchored not far off their shore for summers, of having various "crew visits" in warm waters during winters, is quickly becoming less of an idea and goal and more of an...obsession maybe?

Our plans for a summer "open water" excursion in the Gulf, using a 38 foot mono-hull, is looming as a kind of turning point. We have very little experience in salt water, virtually no experience in open water, have never done an overnight sail, never been on a sailboat that was out of sight of land, and haven't spent more than a few days in a row living in a mono-hull. In fact, when I list it that way, it seems like we might have a long way to go and that there is much waiting to be discovered in our little jaunt around the Gulf. Still, if the $$ was there I think we would leave tomorrow and figure out a way to make it work. Which, I'm pretty sure, meets the definition of "obsession."