Category Archives: Experiential

Mishap Equals Testing Opportunity & Adventure, Part 1

While putting away the plastic folding chairs borrowed for yesterday’s Open Boat (see “Excited? Not Yet” post), one of the chairs fell into the water.  My father-in-law, Ron, retrieving it, dropped his expensive pair of newly purchased prescription sunglasses over the dockside, adjacent to Kandu.  Bryce assured his grandfather that he would immediately retrieve them and donned his wetsuit.  After all, it was only a month ago that he performed the very same exercise to retrieve Trent’s skateboard that Bryce had dropped in the drink.  It was low tide, about 15 feet deep where we stood.  After half a dozen free dives, following the anchor and chain we had deployed to orient his decent, Bryce was successful and the board salvaged.  A couple of new bearings, and it’s as good as new.  Papa was really upset about losing his glasses, so before plunging into what Bryce sensed to be certain success, Bryce thought he might extract a little extra incentive from Papa, “Whatcha ya gonna give me if I get them?”

“He’s your grandfather.  He doesn’t owe you a thing.  Just do it for him,” I barked.  And down he went, several times, without success.  If you’ve never free dived to 15 feet (not deep by free-dive standards, but significant for newbies) in a wetsuit (which floats you) without weights or fins, in murky water with a sun low to the horizon without a flashlight, with a silty bottom, then you may not be able to appreciate the difficulty of the task Bryce was trying to achieve.  To get him down, we’d pull the anchor up, Bryce would hold it, take a deep breath, and then we’d drop the anchor with him holding it to the bottom.  So I offered to drive to our storage unit to get weights and an underwater flashlight.  I went there and picked up my own snorkeling gear while I was at it.  After several more unsuccessful attempts, Bryce gave up, washed off, and went to play Kendama with his marina friends.

I wanted to see what Bryce was up against, so I donned my gear and took the plunge (after several dockside burpee’s to warm my body temperature).  My novice ears hurt around 12 feet and I couldn’t see a thing, nada, and I couldn’t hold my breath long enough to do a thing.  Bryce’s feat impressed me all the more (I need to tell him that).  If I was going to find Papa’s sunglasses, I would need compressed air.  He own options: 1) a Spare Air device, a mini-SCUBA tank with a regulator built-in the stem.  It holds about 4-5 minutes of air.  We have it Velcro’d under our top companion way (the opening from our cabin to our cockpit, our ‘front door’ if you will) ladder step, ready to be deployed, except we haven’t had time to fill it with compressed air.  2) a hookah system, an electric (AC) air compressor that sends air down a hose to a regulator from which you can breath up to 60′ deep.  We purchased the two-diver set up, but it’s still in the box, unopened.

I thought about which live-aboard (a person who lives on the boat full-time) on our dock is a dive enthusiast.  There’s often one close by.   I recalled that Jim, a retired police officer, an experienced cruiser of many years, and a very helpful guy; was a diver and walked over to his boat with my Spare Air.  With the sun setting, he immediately offered to fill my little tank, and without either of us having read the instructions (not the best practice), after some trial and error, filled the yellow cylinder successfully.  Off I skipped to the scene of the crime.  Papa said to forget it.  It was getting dark, I was diving without a wetsuit, and dinner was being prepared, but I was attracted to the challenge.  I wanted to see if what the Spare Air could do, how it worked, and how I’d work with it.  I wanted to see what the bottom was like, the bottom that other boat owners warned me of.  So down I went, pulling the anchor chain (I need to buy a weight belt!) with my right hand, the same hand that held my light, while I held my Spare Air unit in my mouth, it being neutrally buoyant.

After about 9 feet into the decent, it was dark.  I could barely see a thing.  The flashlight’s beam would come and go, in and out of visibility.  It took longer to clear my ears (equalize pressure by gently blowing while squeezing my nose shut) than when I use to dive, probably due to a combination of cold, nervousness, and a lack of practice.  The silt was silky soft.  Holding the aluminum anchor’s shank, I gently touched the bottom, trying to feel around for anything as I dangled upside down like a party balloon.  If I let go the anchor, disoriented as I soon became, I could very easily rise too quickly to the surface and risk developing an air embolism in a lung, or worse, my brain (stuff you learn in SCUBA class).  I thought to myself, if were I to lose control, I would exhale most all the air from my lungs to prevent an embolism, as well as lessen the rate of my ascent.  So close to the surface, I wasn’t worried about reaching the surface with no air in my lungs.  As I felt around never letting loose my grip from the anchor, I recovered the hair cutting scissors I’d dropped months ago giving Trent a haircut.  I found the piece of grounding wire I’d dropped the day before, and I found the rug mat Trent dropped.  I collected the scissors and wire, but left the rug as I did not want to disturb the silt any more than necessary.  When my Spare Air ran out, I calmly rose to the surface blowing bubbles (just as I was taught in class).  Lacking experience, I didn’t count on the dock that was now over my head, preventing me from the much desired surface.  Not panicking, knowing the dock was only 5 feet wide and that I could hold my breath for another 30 seconds, I traced with my hands the barnacled edge of the dock, and rose to the top, only to hit my head against Kandu’s hull before surfacing.  Ouch, but I was on the surface now, able to easily breath again, with all my equipment and goodies in tack.  From the bottom, although I had entered the water from our neighbor’s slip, where the anchor chain hung off our dock, I had no idea that I was actually working directly under the dock that separates Kandu from our neighbor’s powerboat.  The anchor, when we dropped it, must have glided under the slip between our two boats.  Next time, I’ll slowly lower the anchor instead of dropping it.

As I pulled myself onto the dock, Jim walked up with his ‘pony’ tank, a small tank of air with its own regulator and hose designed to help a SCUBA diver surface safely in the event his primary system fails.  It was five times bigger than my Spare Air.  As night fell, I descended once again, this time with Jim’s pony tank wrapped over my right shoulder like a purse, not the normal practice.  As I slowly descended, attempting to not disturb the bottom, giving me time to clear my ears, my light caught the bottom; a mini moonscape.  I tried to methodically and gently press down the fingers of my left hand, like a piano player lightly touching five keys.  Suddenly, from the sea floor a form quickly approaches my face.  Knowing that panic kills, I suppress my flight instinct and hold my position.  “There’s a perfectly reasonable and benign event occurring,” I reason to myself.  “It’s probably the silt percolating up from something disturbed by my right side,” I surmise, and continue my search until again my air runs out and I’m forced to surface.  Again I’m under the dock, and again I rise under Kandu, but this time, I’m not surprised.

After a hot shower and I rinse all the gear off with fresh water, Jim tells me of his underwater, search and rescue exercises, learned as part of his certification.  Tie a lanyard (small rope) to the anchor and gently swim around the perimeter that the lanyard allows as you circle the anchor (approximately 8′ radius), looking only (he lent me his big underwater spotlight), no touching.  If I’m not successful just looking, then I gently touch the surface, again using the lanyard as search perimeter tool.  So today I pulled our hookah system and Honda generator out of storage, and plan to put them into service for the first time, checking them out, and finding those glasses.  The adventure continues . . . .

Trent Demonstrates Spare Air
Before School, Trent Demonstrates Spare Air Placement

Excited? Not Yet.

The weather in Ventura Marina these past months has been spectacular, warm days and cool evenings, mostly clear skies with a touch of breeze that awakens from the east before shifting westerly.

Our expeditionary effort to prepare our vessel is progressing with little interference. We hope to depart southward around November 4 (no promises!), pulling into the Southern California marinas that inhabit the coastline between Ventura and the Mexican boarder.

Today and tomorrow, we make open our boat to family, friends, and neighbors; many who have not yet seen Kandu. Leslie sent out the “Open Boat” invitation last week and many responded affirmatively. So with extra special attention, we’re swabbing Kandu’s hull and decks.

Last night the Baja Ha-ha committee emailed information about the paperwork needed to properly enter Mexico. Before arriving, we’ll need Mexican liability insurance and at least one fishing license ($42/yr). Upon arrival in a port of entry (which will likely be Ensenada now that we’re no longer in the race to get down to Cabo), from the military bank, Banjercito, we will have to purchase a $50 Temporary Import Permit for the boat, listing our more expensive contents (make, model, serial number), good for 10 years (if you don’t replace anything). Each crewmember will need a $20 tourist visa (FMM Visitor Card) and the boat owner must provide several copies of a crew list in Spanish with passport numbers, etc., for approval.  We must also be prepared to show the original copy of the boat’s U.S. documentation (proof of ownership and registry).

“Are you excited?” a question I often get asked and will likely be asked today as we talk about our plans. Being less than a month away from departure, it’s reasonable to assume that I would be. But I am not. I am so focused on getting the requisite tasks completed that I do not afford myself the pleasure of anticipated joy, fearing that daydreaming may in some way interfere/distract me from the pressing goal at hand. I’m eating my vegetables while blocking thoughts of dessert, knowing that at the other side of the table a menu of great desserts awaits. Although Kandu is not yet fully loaded with all her purchased bells and whistles (working on it!), this morning, as another beautiful sunrise melts the evening sky, I look forward to introducing our friends to the self-contained fiberglass vessel that will be our floating spaceship-home for the next five years (mas o menos), . . . I am excited about that.

IMG_0498

Flight Delay

“The captain is sorry to announce that our flight has been delayed.”  But not for long!!!

We have to remember that we’re leaving for a 5+-year circumnavigation, not just a single-season cruise to Mexico or even to French Polynesia and back (something I’ve done twice!).

Too long, but not too late
Too long, but not too late

Cost-Benefit Analysis: Starting with the cost; 1) important equipment has yet to be finalized and commissioned: the self-steering wind vane, anchors (new chain and rode), the desalinator, the HAM radio weather fax, the HAM radio email, the satellite texting device, the outboard motors, the generator, the air compressor, the gennaker sail (having to have a sailmaker remake it after hoisting it for the first time this weekend and finding it too long), the medical training (IV administration and suturing) and provisions are not complete, and we have not loaded the boat with all its currently land-stored equipment, finding a smart place to stow the items; 2) important services are not established: boat insurance (awaiting survey report) and mail forwarding; 3) land separation is not complete; consolidation of storage into one location and buttoning up that storage against possible water and earthquake damage, valuable items not yet sold (cars, drone, refrigerant, etc.), and business banking circumstance not yet established.  4) media capture (video production and post) and communication component (school dialog, website administration, blog, Facebook/Twitter/Instagram) of trip not yet firmed up; and 5) I do not want to leave port having to complete the above tasks under significantly more complicated circumstances of added time (shipping), costs (cost more to ship parts, plus import fees, and less room for error), and access to assistance and expertise, all of which would add stress to an already stressful situation.

The most important reason for me personally, is that for years, and especially this last year, particularly the past 6 months, I have been working non-stop to prepare the multiple aspects surrounding our family expedition, with little to no attention paid to family–especially Bryce and Trent.  The number one reason of the trip is to bring us closer together as a family.  Ironically, preparing for this trip has made me less accessible than had we stayed on land and I continued to work in my previous career.  There is an expectation that once we leave the dock and the trip begins that Bryce and Trent will have their father back and Leslie while have her husband.  I do not want to leave the dock with nothing but my rear-end and elbows visible to my family while I finish up the above tasks.  I do not want to remain working on the boat in foreign ports while the family goes off to visit the host country without me.  I do not wish to miss the opportunity to document our experiences.  I feel such would be to break my promise to my family and to myself.  For this and the other above reasons, we have decided to forgo joining the Baja Ha-ha in ten days.

Although we will miss the high energy camaraderie and potential relationships that may have otherwise been forged, as well as an earlier start date; we will instead be able to meander down the coast of Southern California coastline at our own pace, stay at reciprocal yacht clubs, and finish up last minute (but important) details and purchases along the way.  The boys will be able to celebrate Halloween with the middle school friends and we’ll all be able to attend the wedding of a close family member, visiting with family and friends from afar who will come to attend it, especially my brother, Curtis, who is flying out from his home in Sydney, Australia.

Adding two weeks to our departure from Ventura and two or more weeks more before we leave the country to foreign ports in exchange for a more pleasant, safe, and familial beginning to a multi-year adventure seems an obvious course of action.  I am satisfied with our decision and sleep well.  Although smaller things will be left to complete after our departure, I now smile as I go about the business of finishing the major items on my list, no longer constrained by the artificial deadline I imposed on myself.

 

 

 

 

Can’t Sleep

Two weeks before our intended departure date, and I can’t sleep.  After all the years of preparation, I’m anxious that I won’t have time or the space to stuff our boat with all the things I think we may need, or really want to have on board.

Intellectually I appreciate that no one leaves with everything good to go, satisfied that everything is ready.  That’s why we signed up with the Baja Ha-ha; to have a hard date for departing.  At the same time, the most dangerous thing for a ocean-going cruiser is a schedule.  Weather should be the primary factor in deciding when to go, not a group who decided this departure date a year ago.  Hurricane Odile recently hit Cabo very hard.  The marina may not be ready for 125 boats.  Then again, maybe this is the excuse I need to take a couple more weeks to get things settled up for the longer journey, the five year plan.  Maybe we’ll leave Ventura as stated, but stay in San Diego for a bit longer, skip the Ha-ha.  But maybe, if I continue to work 12 hour days, with Leslie’s and my uncle’s help, I can get the boat ready enough to leave with the Ha-ha group.

Yesterday was the first time in six months that I cut my hair.  I didn’t have the desire to take time away from working on the boat, but my cousin offered to cut it for me Sunday evening, so I took her up on the offer.  Here we made all this sacrifice to be with the kids, and I have had less free time with the boys than when I was working my career.  It’s crazy.  I’ve postponed so much of my life over the past decade, and now, I feel as if I’m postponing life more than ever, that I’m missing important moments with Bryce and Trent.  Crazy, isn’t it?   I should be excited to be leaving in two weeks, but instead I find that my focus is even more intense.  I got to get this boat ready and our land life boxed up.

The Ha-ha is also to be on opportunity for us to meet other kid boats.  So far, although we’ve elected to share our contact info with other kid boats, no one has reached out.  Last year, we saw maybe one or two other kid boats at the send off party.  Maybe there aren’t so many to make much of a difference.

I know the sailing and the traveling and the adventure will be great for the family and for me in the end.  I have to know it.  We’ve put so much of our family’s resources of time and money into this venture, I have to believe it.  Boy, am I anxious.  I keep reaching out to have faith that this will be as great as I’ve envisioned.  I have not experienced full relief, or the feeling of satisfaction derived from a sense of completion for so long.  I hope I feel it within a couple months. I can’t remember when I have felt it.  This is not fun.

Now I have to try and sleep so can be effective today.  I have a lot to do, as usual.

Bow Anchor VWM

Acronym Conversion

Preparing Kandu over the past several years, vendors and boat owners have shared many negative (or “realistic,” if you’re a pessimist) expressions. Most common: “The best two days of boat ownership are the day you buy it and the day you sell it.” Second most common: “A boat is a hole in the water in which you throw money.” Third most common: “The definition of cruising—instead of everyday working on your boat in your home port, you work on it everyday in exotic ports.” Common: “Cruising is 99% boredom, 1% shear terror” and “No matter the perceived difficulty of a given task prior to its commencement, it will always turn out to be much more difficult in the end.” Not so common: “The skills required to maintain a boat are simple. The challenge is having to know all 10,000 of them.” Most painful: “BOAT is an acronym for ‘Break Out Another Thousand [$].’”

Truth lies in all these expressions. Worst is when they hit together like a shower of daggers attempting to assassinate your attitude, to weaken your will to press on with your goal to sail to foreign ports and adventures beyond. When preparing an older boat for long distance, long-term cruising, many disappointments strike each day, anything from “they don’t make these anymore,” to “you have to replace the whole thing/all of them”, to “but a professional installed it just last month,” and “how does hoisting my brand new $5000 sails break my professionally rebuilt $3000 furling systems and damage my sails?” (That was a bad day.)

In the morning, when a marine surveyor (a professional you pay to tell you what’s wrong with your boat) inspecting your boat tells you that you need to replace your manual bilge exhaust hose and your boat’s steering cable, he says it in a way that sounds like a boat owner can be done with it by day’s end. So when he leaves, you’re smiling and thanking him for finding the problems. After lunch, you call to order the parts. But it’s not easy. It winds up taking two days to research what is needed, another day to find and order the parts, two days to remove the dying unit, a half day to install what turns out to be the wrong part, a half day to order the right part, two days to receive it (that is if you paid the extra money to expedite shipping), and a day to install (note: it’s markedly faster the second time) and test/adjust/calibrate it. Don’t forget about the two new tools bought to do the job. And also don’t forget that the timeframe-equation is twice multiplied: firstly for the bilge hose and secondly for the steering cable. So two weeks and three thousand dollars later, you call the surveyor to tell him the things are done.

Were I to end the account here, the bleak comments about boat ownership hold true. Why then would anyone own a cruising boat? Well, hoses are important. Should one faBilge Hoseil, your boat could sink. I knew this before I owned a boat, but after replacing them, I now have confidence in my bilge pump hose, and the other three hoses I replaced that the surveyor didn’t flag. I replaced the other hoses when, in removing the bilge hose, I saw that they were of similar type and poor condition. All the below-the-waterline hoses have now been replaced and tested with superior hose, new fittings, and the best hose clamps. Additionally, while fussing around to find the lay of the hoses’, I had the pleasure of peering into corners and recesses of my boat that I might never have otherwise (I ain’t scared).

Steering is also important (no, duh . . .). After removing the old and installing the new, I now know how my steering system works, every nook and cranny of it. I know how to find the part numbers and where to get parts (Edson). I installed and (4 times) adjusted the assembly myself. Chain MeasureI improved the system by adding in-line grease points to the cable conduit to help better maintain the cable within, a feature absent from its previous installation. I learned, after some debate, which grease to use, for not only the steering cable, but for most of the boat’s moving mechanical parts (SuperLube Synthetic Grease). With all that I learned, I elected to create emergency spares. For bilge pump, I re-plumbed and re-wired a portable bilge pump (the fifth bilge pump on our boat). For the steering assembly, I put together a comprehensive kit. In the event that any of the steering components should fail, between the parts I set aside and the newly acquired knowledge on how to replace the parts, I feel confident that I could repair the steering, should the need arise.

So I come out of the ordeal with greater knowledge, greater skill (only 9,998 to go!), and greater confidence. Yeah, sure, I paid for it in money, time, sweat, and frustration. But there are worse ways to spend your time and money than on preparing your “space” ship for an extended world tour with your family. And in the end, I made several new relationships with really smart people. For me, BOAT now stands for, “Buying Our Adventure Time.”

 

School’s Out for Summer

This week marks the end of a successful school year for Bryce and Trent and the beginning of a surf summer.

On Monday, I chauffeured Trent and Bryce to and from school aboard “Rebel Child,” my former boss’s tricked out Jeep, modified for a form of extreme off-road driving known as rock crawling.

Crawling Rebel Style
Crawling Rebel Style

A show car, it’s a real head turner. While riding shotgun, Bryce remarked how much he loved stoplights, getting a chance to see everyone’s reaction to the “crawler rig.”  I dropped him off to a group of jaw-dropped, screaming girls.  I later picked up Trent surrounded by a group of on-looking buds.  As Trent described it, he had told his friends that he had a surprise for them after school.  One classmate guessed it would be a new dog (something Trent really wants).  Exiting campus, one of his classmates saw the Jeep with its 40-inch wheels, full armor, and large skull decal emblazoned across its doors and proclaimed, “What a cool car!”  Trent said, “I know,” walked up to it and opened the front passenger door.  “NO WAY!!!” said his blown-away friends as he climbed inside.  I have to thank Tommy again for letting me do that for Bryce and Trent.  It was so much fun.

Trent promoted out of fifth grade yesterday.  He adored his teacher, Miss Bird, who understood and appreciated his qualities from the first day at, what was for Trent, a new school.  She made him feel valuable at a time when he was vulnerable.  She inspired him to be his best self.  He beamed as she talked with him after the ceremony.  Trent leaves Pierpont Elementary having earned excellent grades (top scores for two quarters) and having forged several friendships, most of all, Charlie.  We see Charlie several times a week, visiting his family’s beach home or having him on board Kandu.  As part of the class of 2014’s mural, Trent and Charlie have their initials permanently imprinted on the school’s perimeter wall.  The last week of school included a pajama/movie day, an all sports-day, a beach day, and finally, and after-graduation pool party.  Leslie and I are so pleased for Trent, and very proud of what he accomplished this school year in Ventura at Pierpont.

Farewell to Elementary School
Farewell to Elementary School
Waiting To Be Called
Waiting To Be Called
Positive Role
Positive Role

Big GulpBig Gulp

Trent's Mural Initials
Trent’s Mural Initials

As Trent did with Pierpont Elementary, Bryce entered Cabrillo Middle School with practically no connection to anyone on campus. But unlike must young people his age, Bryce entered with cache, boldly walking on with his colored duct tape bowtie (he would later be referred to by his classmates as the “bowtie guy”).  He left yesterday with a yearbook packed with praise and well wishes.  Like a typical guy, Bryce enjoyed woodshop and PE the most. With his grade point average having floated between 3.75 and 4.0 throughout the year, he made honor roll (and yes, we got a bumper sticker). His school treated the entire honor roll to a day at Magic Mountain’s rollercoaster park, bussing them there and back.  Of course Leslie didn’t miss the opportunity to “chaperone” the kids, getting to ride all but one of the roller coasters while the students did their own thing.  Also, classmates who’d heard Bryce perform months earlier at Ventura High for the school district’s talent show, encouraged (begged) Bryce to participate in their school’s talent show.  Last Thursday, Leslie and I attended Bryce’s performance of Train’s “Hey, Soul Sister” as he sang against a karaoke track to the entire school, one grade group at a time.  The seventh-grade class greeted his introduction with screams and cheers. As a token of his gratitude, the day before the last day of school, we helped Bryce make 90 of his banana cream pie doughnuts, a treat he invented in the fifth grade: doughnut-holes piped with banana cream filling, dipped in glaze and graham cracker crumbs and topped with whipped cream. His gesture of appreciation was well received as made apparent in his yearbook where many praised his talents as a singer, baker, world adventurer, and all around cool dude—a remarkable combination that represents just a part of what Bryce is capable.

Chef at Work
Chef at Work
Quality Control
Quality Control
Amigas Signing In
Amigas Signing In
Bryce's School Year Ends
Bryce’s School Year Ends

Lastly, this week marked the beginning of what will likely be a surfing summer.  After months of afterschool surfing soft-top short boards from Costco at Mondo’s Beach, proclaimed as Ventura’s Waikiki; we provided Bryce and Trent a private surf lesson from Jeff Belzer of Makos Surf.  He taught much to us all: some basic surfing skills, practices, and exercises (and vocabulary); local surf spots; and the various characteristics of a surfboard and where to buy one.  The latter sent us over to Robert Weiner, founder, owner, and renowned shaper of Roberts Surfboards. Rob patiently listened to what we learned from Jeff and to the boys’ opinions and hand selected two slightly used epoxy boards from his used board stock.  Bryce and Trent surfed on them the next day.  They liked one, but not the other, so we returned it as Robert suggested.  Not having in stock another like the one the boys liked, he graciously pulled from his car his personal board and swapped it with the board the boys did not like.  It not only matched the preferred board, it came with a dedication to himself embedded in the board: “Made for myself. Lord, thank you for this board.”  With a surf camp starting next Monday, Trent and Bryce, and an invitation from Miss Bird, an avid surfer, to surf with her some day; the boys are well set for a surfin’ summer.

The Pipe at Surfer's Point
The Pipe at Surfer’s Point
Artist's Touch
Artist’s Touch

Gracious Icon
Gracious Icon

In the Background, Leslie's Sailboat Race
Robert’s Board. In the Background, Leslie’s Sailboat Races

http://youtu.be/EkhiSxaGMQ0