Boat Buying Tips Without Too Much Salt (Pt 2) - Keels

Be warned - I am an unseasoned and not very salty sailor. Any tips I share about boat buying are of the low sodium variety.

This is the second in a series about what to look for when you're buying a boat from someone who doesn't know what she is talking about (that would be me). Scott and I are looking to upgrade and get a larger boat back in the States next year. And as it will require a fair chunk of change and will be my floating home, I thought I should get my head around what you should look for in a boat. After all, you wouldn't let your husband just go out and view a house and make an offer if you hadn't seen it first. Or would you? Maybe we know a couple whose names also happen to be Scott and Ellen who might have done this once. They were young at the time. Ellen might be paying a bit more attention this time around with the boat.

In my last post, I looked at the different types of "bones" that make up the hull underneath your boat's super expensive marine paint skin. In this post, I'm taking a look at the different types of toes you can get on your boat. Yes, "toes". I can't quite get my head around speaking Nauticalese with its sheets and ports and sterns and heads and so on. So every once in a while, I quietly rebel and do things like call keels "toes". And a boat keel is like a human toe in a way. We have toes at the bottom of our bodies and boats have keels at the bottom of their bodies. We can stub our toes by tripping up the stairs and boats can stub theirs by running aground. Both are painful. And one of them can be very expensive if you need to get a marine doctor in to do some repairs.

So let's dive straight in. To start off with what exactly is a keel? A keel is the part of the boat that is hidden under water (unless it rolls over and you have to hold your breath for 2 minutes in which case it comes out of hiding). Basically, sailboats move because wind whooshes into your sails and pushes your boat forward through some sort of magical energy conversion (I dropped out of physics in high school so I'll just accept it as fact without seeking to understand). But as the wind is whooshing into your sails it is also trying to tip your boat over. Bad wind. Thankfully, a boat has a keel which counterbalances the wind and keeps it upright. Well mostly upright - boats "heel" or go tippy when you sail which will surely be a subject of a future post. Something along the lines of "Tippy, Not Tipsy". So, even though we hide our keels underwater, we like them a lot because they keep us upright. Much like human toes.

There are two major types of keels - fixed and deployable. Deployable keels are basically like ironing boards. When you want to use it, you unfold the keel by lowering a cable which drops the centerboard down. When you're done using the keel, you fold it back up and it stores itself neatly under the boat. There are some other types of deployable keels which have a daggerboard which are dropped down like a dagger through a vertical hole in your boat. When we chartered up in the Bay of Islands, we sailed on a Davidson 20' which has a deployable keel with a centerboard. Boats with deployable keels can be great when you want to get in close to anchor. You can fold up the keel and scoot right up front thumbing your nose at the big super yachts. And you can haul them out easily and put them on a trailer and be a trailer sailor if you want. But they aren't really what we would be looking for in a blue water cruiser, so we can cross them off our list.

That brings us to fixed keels. There are a number of different types including full keel, modified fin keel (with skeg or spade rudders) and fin keels with spade rudders and either round or flat sections. Yeah, I don't know what that means either so here are some pictures.

A full keel is just what it says on the tin - it runs pretty much the full length of the waterline. Beth Leonard describes boats with full keels as "traditional voyagers". She says that they are slow, safe and comfortable. All sounding good so far. Full keel boats are good when the wind gets all blowy as they don't get pushed sideways and off course as much as other types of keels. And you can heave-to more easily. ("Heave-toing" is another Nauticalese term which we'll leave for another day.) But slow, safe and comfortable comes at a price and that is speed and ease of turning. Because they are dragging a really big toe under the water, boats with full keels get more resistance and are therefore slower. When you want to tack (turn) the boat, it takes longer as the big toe gets in the way. But I don't like the idea of racing and I do like the idea of safe and comfortable so this might be a price worth paying.



This is our boat - Rainbow's End. She has a modified fin keel with spade rudder.

The next type of keel is a modified fin keel. Unlike a full keel, they don't run the length of the waterline. Beth Leonard describes these types of boats as "performance cruisers" - a perfect marriage between performance and comfort. Many modern cruising boats have fin keels as they give you the best of both worlds. They are faster and turn more easily, but also stable enough so that you feel safe (well, most of the time anyway). These types of boats can come with skeg rudders or spade rudders. Skeg rudders are attached directly to the hull via a skeg. While the term "skeg" sounds like the noise cats make when they cough up a hairball, they are really like an arm which extends down from the keel. Spade rudders are separate from the keel and attached to a post which comes down through the hull allowing it to swivel side to side. I like to think of rudders as a boat's tail and we'll cover these more in a separate post.

The next type of keel -  fin keels with spade rudders and either round or flat sections - are preferable if you want your boat to be more racy. And by "racy" I don't mean sailing around provocatively, I mean being faster and more agile. These types of boats are much harder to handle and need experienced sailors to manage them. I'm not very experienced and I don't want to be provocative or go too fast so we'll cross these off of our list too.

So taking all of that into consideration, I think we're going to be looking for a boat with a modified fin keel and spade rudder much like we have now on Rainbow's End. I like Beth Leonard's description of a "marriage between performance and comfort." The performance will appeal to Scott and the comfort will appeal to me. And that's what marriage is all about - finding something that works for both of you.

Coming up soon, we'll have a look at the different ways you can attach a keel to your boat and why boat builders put ballast in the keels. Clearly, it's just not as simple as what shape you want your keel to be but that's enough for one day.

If you're interested in other slightly eccentric posts on how to buy a sailboat when you know nothing about sailing or boats, check out this page.

Note: Just in case you think I am making this all up, I've had a look at a number of sailing books and articles to get me some learning. Beth A Leonard's book, The Voyager's Handbook, is a classic for good reason. It covers absolutely everything. I've also found Twain Braden's The Handbook of Sailing Techniques useful as he gives really simple descriptions which even I find easy to understand. And I came across a cool website - "How Stuff Works" where you can click on things to learn about buoyancy. It was fun - check it out here.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi! 

Boat Buying Tips Without Too Much Salt (Pt 1) - Hulls

Be warned - I am an unseasoned and not very salty sailor. Any tips I share about boat buying are of the low sodium variety.

I recently found out that sailboats can roll-over when a big wave hits them. This means that you need to be able to hold your breath for 2 minutes by which time the sailboat should hopefully right itself. (By the way, I have started practicing holding my breath during my spare time.) This has led me to the realization that there may in fact be more to buying a boat than whether or not it has a cute name and what color the cushions are. Scott has been obsessed with boat buying for a few years now and often shows me links to potential boats for sale. He’ll go on and on and on about the engine, the rigging, the hull, the gear it comes with and other technical bits and bobs. At this point, I usually give him my patented cat-like disinterested stare and then look at the pictures of the boat to see what color the cushions are. If the owners of the boat have chosen a nice pattern for their cushions, then I might go on to check out the galley set-up. After that my interest wanes and I fix myself a snack and watch a couple of episodes of 24.

This whole holding your breath for 2 minutes thing coupled with the fact that we’ll need to write a pretty big check when we buy our next boat has led me to the conclusion that perhaps I should become a bit more involved in this boat buying process. Plus, Scott is a crafty one and it pays to keep close tabs on him. Especially when it comes to buying things. So I’ve started doing some research and reading up on boat buying during breaks between my meals and episodes of 24. But because I am a very unseasoned and not very salty sailor, I wouldn't take anything I say too seriously. Not that I imagine you would anyway. This is definitely the low sodium way to buy a boat.

Let's start with what's underneath a boat's skin (aka that super expensive marine paint). Like humans, boats have to have something underneath their skin so that they don't go all floppy. While we have bones, boats have wood, steel or fiberglass under their skin. Wood is one of the oldest boat making materials and with good reason - wooden boats look awesome! I love looking at the classic wood boats in the Viaduct in Auckland and part of me would love to own one. That is until Scott tells me how much upkeep would be required. And then there is the fact that wood rots. That certainly puts me off. I'm not too keen on the idea that the thing I am depending upon to stay afloat in the water could be rotting away underneath me. Of course, you can prevent wood rot but that comes right back to considerable upkeep and maintenance required. So, I think I'll just drool over the wooden boats in the Viaduct and consider other options.

This takes us to boats made out of steel. Right off the bat this doesn't sound appealing. The word "steel" just seems to evoke coldness and sterility. I would much prefer my boat to be warm and inviting. But there are some pros to having the steel boat and the big one for me is that you can hit almost anything and come out the winner. Steel is tough and it can hold its own against hard, floating objects and well as survive if it goes aground on coral reefs. Of course if you hit a larger steel vessel, like a big freighter, all bets are off. The downside of steel is that it rusts. So owners of steel boats have to do their utmost to keep water from coming into contact with the bare steel. Hmm...boats are meant to be in the water aren't they? I guess that is where that super expensive marine paint skin comes in handy.

Fiberglass (or glass-reinforced plastic (GRP) in Brit speak) is the other option. I was surprised to learn that it has only been used for around 40 years. Without giving away my age, I think it might even be younger than me. Don't I just feel old now. Fiberglass is very commonly used in the types of boats we'll be looking at. It is basically glass cloth which is saturated in liquid glue and then allowed to dry. In between the glass cloth and glue is a core that can be made out of things like:

• Plywood - something I think Karate masters chop in half with their feet;
• Balsa wood - something I think a 5 year old could easily snap in two without knowing how to do Karate;
• Foam - cats would easily tear this to pieces;
• Some sort of high-tech wood - this is sounding better than ply or balsa wood; or
• More fiberglass - this is what our current boat is made of.

Does glass cloth and glue sound like something you would trust your life too? I can see why some people like steel! However, I have been assured by the many books and internet articles I have read that fiberglass is strong and impervious to water. But of course, like all things boat related, it too requires upkeep and maintenance because, yes you guessed it, water is its enemy. If you get moisture in your glass cloth and glue based hull then the core can rot. If it isn't rust, then it is rot.

Our Boat (Rainbow's End)
She is made of fiberglass

So after considering all three options, I'm guessing that we'll be going with a fiberglass boat. They're less upkeep than a wooden boat and more commonly used material than steel in the size of boats we'll be looking at. So there you go, I've learned a lot. In particular, that in addition to spending a lot of money on this new cruising life of ours, we'll also be spending a good chunk of time maintaining our boat! Hopefully, I'll be able to find some time in between boat maintenance chores to reupholster our boat cushions so that at the end of a long day I can sit down and sigh and think to myself, "Darn, those are real nice cushions."

If you're interested in other slightly eccentric posts on how to buy a sailboat when you know nothing about sailing or boats, check out this page.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi! 

Why Is Anti-Foul Paint So Darn Expensive?

Do you know it costs over US$10,000 to hire someone to paint the average 30-40 foot boat? See here if you don't believe me. That is a lot of money! Well, I think it is a lot of money. If you don’t think it is a lot of money, let me know if you’re looking to adopt two middle-aged sailors. We would be more than happy to help out.

Even if paint your boat yourself, you still have to shell out for the paint and other materials which makes the cash register go cha-ching! Now that we have made the decision to move onto our boat full-time, I’ve started to pay far more attention to how much all of this is going to cost us, especially as we’ll have to write a pretty big check next year when we upgrade and get a bigger boat.

When we bought our current boat we knew we were going to have to haul her out to repaint her bottom with anti-foul paint. This is when I first started to show some interest in how much things with the magical word “marine” in front of them cost. When Scott told me that the paint alone cost NZ$200 I almost fell over and this was on sale! And that doesn’t include the cost to haul your boat out of the water and get her water blasted. While I can spend almost as much on a pair of shoes, I really can’t get too excited about spending that much on a can of paint. It is just now starting to dawn on me that owning a boat means that how much we spend on “marine” products is going to increase dramatically while my spending on cute shoes is definitely going to have to go down. And since you have to anti-foul your boat regularly, I thought I should find out a bit more about anti-foul paint and why it is so darn expensive.

So what is paint anyway? Seems like a basic question but sometimes those are the best ones. Paint is a pigmented coating material which when applied to a substrate forms an opaque film having protective, decorative or specific technical properties. Makes sense so far – something with color which makes your boat pretty and keeps it safe from nasty things like barnacles. (Varnish is like paint, but transparent.) Paint has been around forever. You’ve probably seen pictures of Paleolithic cave paintings and, unless you live in an actual cave or on a sailboat in an isolated anchorage, you’ll definitely have seen the Mona Lisa. Both are great examples of how paint has been used throughout human history for decorative and artistic purposes. But paint can also serve an important role in protecting surfaces. This is particularly true when it comes to boats. The last thing you want is for your boat to corrode and start letting water in or collect a whole lot of creatures attaching themselves which will slow you down. Keeping the bottom of your boat clean is also important for the marine environment as it helps ensure unwanted marine pests aren’t introduced into new areas. (You can find a handy pamphlet here which shows you how seriously New Zealand takes anti-fouling and marine bio-security. It also has pictures and descriptions of local marine pests. Some of them look cute but don't be fooled.)

You can basically divide a boat into two – above the waterline and below the waterline. If you have a fiberglass boat*, you can generally choose whether or not to paint above the waterline. You may be perfectly happy with the color of the gelcoat (i.e., a colored resin applied to the boat when it is made - we'll learn more about this at some point) and/or too cheap to paint it. It’s your choice – you can paint it or not.

Our current boat has a “lovely” pink hue to her especially when the sun hits her just right. I think it is the result of the years she has spent in the harsh New Zealand sun. I turn pinkish when I get sunburned and I assume that’s what has happened to Rainbow’s End. At least I hope so because I can’t imagine why anyone would deliberately choose a gelcoat which has a slightly pink Pepto Bismo hue to it on purpose. We’re too cheap to paint her topsides so pink she stays. Plus it would be a big hassle. Money + Hassle = Not Going to Happen. (If you’re looking to buy Rainbow’s End when she goes on sale next year, we’re only kidding. She looks great! No pink to be found here. The best looking boat on the block!)

Below the waterline is where anti-foul paint comes in. This is the kind of paint you really don’t have a choice about. You have to do this - no ifs, ands or buts. You can see a picture of what our boat looked like when we hauled her out before we bought her here. She hadn't been anti-fouled in a while. It wasn't pretty.

Basically, the free loaders of the marine world love nothing more than to hitch a ride on your boat. At least when you’re driving down the motorway the hitchhikers stick their thumbs out and politely ask for a ride. They don't assume you'll give them a lift. Not so when it comes to barnacles, molluscs, tube worms, slime, the occasional gummi-bear etc. They just hop right on like they're entitled. But fortunately we're humans and we're bigger, smarter, have opposable thumbs and we have access to credit cards and marine stores. So we water blast the nasties off regularly and then apply a couple of coats of anti-foul paint every year or two. While anti-foul paint looks and smells like regular paint and you put it on the same way, it actually behaves differently. It has "biocides" inside it which ooze (a technical term) out in a continuous and controlled manner. The paint is actually porous and lets water in so as to dissolve the biocides. It must make the boat taste bad or something because it inhibits the marine hitchhikers from clinging on to your boat. Take that barnacles!

The type of anti-foul paint you choose depends upon what color you want, where you sail your boat (i.e., what local nasties are prevalent) and any local regulation around copper biocides. Like many things in life, anti-foul paint is certainly not without its controversy. And when it comes to anti-foul paint, some people consider copper to be a bad guy. There are very few biocides that will work well in anti-foul paint. They either don't react well to salt water or they're too toxic to be handled safely. During the 1970s and 80s, tributyltin (TBT) was commonly used but has since been banned internationally. As a result copper biocides are now in vogue, however, there is now some question about their level of toxicity and impact on marine life. As a result, its use is now banned in certain areas. So my takeaway is, marine creatures bad on your boat, but good in the water. Substances that keep marine creatures off your boat both good and bad. It is all too confusing. Fortunately, the marine industry is beavering away coming up with fabulous new non-toxic anti-foul products so I won't have to waste precious brain capacity thinking about it.

Phew! That was a lot to take in. If you zoned out during the middle of the post, here are the key things to remember for fiberglass boats:

• It's your call if you paint above the waterline (there are exceptions I'm sure).
• Keep your bottom clean and apply anti-foul regularly below the waterline.
• Make sure you know about the regulations and conditions in your area and pick the right type of anti-foul paint.
• Read the labels and be aware of the impact sailing and other human activity has on the environment.

And the most important thing you should keep in mind is that anti-foul paint is expensive. In New Zealand, 4 liters of ablative paint will cost you around NZ$179 for the non-premium kind and NZ$269 for the premium kind (prices with a store card).** However, you do get your choice of some exciting colors - black, red, blue and white. There are two big marine shops in Auckland - Burnsco and Smart Marine. It pays to compare prices between the two. Fortunately, they're right across the street from each other so it is easy. Also, if you're cheap like us, get a store card to get the discounted price. Yes, they'll have access to all sorts of information about your shopping habits, but I'm guessing the NSA knows far more about you anyways.

I was curious how much house paint cost in comparison so I looked it up and it seems like you can get 4 liters of Resene house paint for NZ$115. You also get a far greater choice of colors. That's a pretty big price difference between anti-foul paint and house paint. Those biocides they put in anti-foul paint must be expensive creatures. But then I guess homeowners don't usually have a problem with barnacles attaching themselves to their siding.

If you’ve been really fascinated by this discussion of marine paint you can find more information here including lots of technical mumbo-jumbo, formulas (like 4Fe + 302 +2H2O = 2Fe2O3H2O) and diagrams. Read at your own risk. We cannot be held liable for any boredom you may experience.

Notes:

*We currently have a fiberglass boat and are likely to get another one when we get our new boat, so I haven't looked into painting wooden or steel boats.

**There are number of types of anti-foul paint: (1) Copolymer ablative paint is a soft paint which wears off over time. Good for boats that get taken out of the water as the paint doesn't lose its effectiveness when dry. Our boat stays in the water, but we've used an ablative paint. I think it is a pretty common choice in NZ for your average boat. (2) Epoxy or modified epoxy paint is a hard paint which doesn't rub off. This means you can scrub and scrape you boat while it is in the water to remove marine nasties. Because the paint doesn't "dissolve" like ablative paint, you have to eventually strip off the paint as it will build up over time. Sounds like a messy job. (3) Thin film paints are generally used in fresh water where you get less marine nasties. Some racers also like it because there is less friction on the paint thus shaving precious seconds off of their time. We don't race our boat or keep her in fresh water so we don't use this kind. (4) Vinyl paint is a hard paint which racers like as it is low friction and more effective than thin film paint in salt water. You can also polish the paint to make it super slick. Again only something crazy racers would be obsessed with.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi!

More Cooking with Cans

Following on from my Taco Soup recipe, it is time for some more experiments cooking from cans. Cooking from cans will come in handy living on a boat - its cheap and there aren't always supermarkets in isolated anchorages. 

Although Scott's eyes tend to glaze over when I start talking about cooking from cans, I actually know someone who is a "fan of the can" and has been living almost exclusively out of cans. And he lives on land! Here is what he has to say about cans:

"I like the 'efficiency' of them in every aspect - efficient to store; efficient way to bring ingredients together; efficient to dispose of; efficient on the wallet; and efficient on the food value - because they are good quality! I like cans."

So in his honor, here is another recipe from cans. I've even costed it out so we can check and see if cooking from cans really is good value. For those Americanos out there, if you want to do the math the Kiwi is currently trading at about .80 to the US dollar. And keep in mind, everything in New Zealand is really expensive so when you do the math, it might not seem like good value to you. And if this doesn't seem like good value, don't even think about buying a house in Auckland.

Scott - if you can manage to stay awake throughout this entire post, I'll put in a bonus picture of a snapper at the end.

Corn Chowder

Here are the ingredients and how much they cost (all prices in NZ$).

• 1 300 gram can of creamed corn ($1.85) - I used a can of Wattie's creamed corn. There are generic versions, but Countdown was having a "can sale" so I went "premium" with Watties. I feel comforted in my extravagance because the corn was grown in Hawke's Bay. It says so on the can.
• 1 410 gram can of whole potatoes ($1.89) - I went "downmarket" for my potatoes and bought the generic Homebrand kind. But I feel reassured by my decision as the can explicitly states that there are no artificial colors, flavors or preservatives. Good to know. Because it is a generic can, the label is much less aesthetically pleasing than the Wattie's can. But I guess you get what you pay for.
• 2 cups of milk (25 cents) - I made this using skim/trim powdered milk. For me it qualifies as a "can-like" ingredient as you can store powdered milk for a long time on a boat. I just estimated the cost based upon 400 gram packet of milk powder going for $7.99.
• 1 onion (30 cents) - Onions, like powdered milk, theoretically last a long time so this is another one of my staple "can-like" ingredients. Again, I just estimated the cost based upon 1.5 kg of onions going for $3.00. My original estimate was 27 cents, but they don't have pennies in New Zealand so I rounded up. Imagine living in a world without pennies. Once you've gone without, you realize you don't really need them. (Hey! Listen up US Mint - I'm talking to you!)
• 1 tub of Continental chicken stock pot concentrate ($1.25) - I don't actually like these but they come in packs of 4 and since I had already bought them, I feel compelled to use them up. I am truly embracing my new frugal lifestyle. The old Ellen would have chucked them out and bought the super expensive and better tasting Campbell's chicken stock instead.
• 1 tablespoon of canola oil (5 cents) - Another estimated cost based on a 500 ml bottle of Homebrand canola oil going for $2.39.
• About 1 teaspoon of pepper - Sorry, I didn't price this out. Way too complicated to count each individual grain of pepper and calculate a cost per teaspoon. I didn't add any salt to this recipe because you get enough sodium from the stock pot concentrate.
• 1 bay leaf and about 1 teaspoon of thyme - Couldn't be bothered to cost these out either. I have some already so I'll call it free. If I didn't have any, I wouldn't put it in.
• 1 cup of water - free!

So the total cost is $5.60 (I rounded up, remember no pennies). I figure you can get 3 servings out of this so the price per serve is approx. $1.85. For comparison, you can get a 600 gram pouch of Signature Range Chicken and Corn Chowder for $4.70 or if you want to splurge you could get a 600 gram pouch of Pitango Smoked Seafood Chowder for $6.39. I think you can get around 2 servings out of each 600 gram pouch. So the pouches are more expensive per serve, but they do have meat in them (chicken or smoked seafood). But the good news is if you live on a boat and have your very own cynical sailor, he can catch snapper for you which you can add into your chowder to turn it into Snappy Snapper Chowder. Yum! (Hang in there Scott, bonus picture of the snapper coming soon.)

Okay, here is how you make the chowder:

• Chop up the onion and sauté in a pot in the oil until soft.
• Open up the can of potatoes*, drain and slice them. Then chuck them into the pot.
• Open up the can of corn and chuck it into the pot.
• Add the stock pot concentrate, milk, water, bay leaf, thyme and pepper and bring to boil. Then reduce to a simmer and let it bubble away for about 30 minutes.
• If you have snapper, you could chop it up and add it to the pot at the end and let it simmer until it is cooked. I don't have snapper so I haven't tried it out, but we'll give it a go this summer on the boat.

And finally, the moment Scott has been waiting for. A picture of one of the snappers he caught last summer (as well as a shot of his foot).

*Note: When opening the cans, do not cut yourself on the jagged edge causing you to have to wrap a towel around your finger to keep the blood from dripping on to the floor, which means you have to try to get dressed and call for a taxi with only one hand in order to get yourself to the local White Cross clinic to get stiches put in and have your finger wrapped in such a way that people call you ET for a week. Also, don't stick you finger into a light socket to check what type of light bulb it takes while the lamp is still plugged in.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi! 

The Accidental Man Overboard Drill

I specialize in two kinds of knots - "Ellen Specials" and "Ellen Super Duper Specials". "Ellen Specials" are knots that are very complicated, can't be replicated and can't be easily untied. I use these in lieu of a bowline knot. Scott just loves them. My other type of knots - "Ellen Super Duper Specials" - are Scott's absolute favorite. They are the type of knot which comes untied without any human intervention whatsoever at the most inopportune time. Like, for example, when you are motoring out into the crowded Waitemata Harbor in Auckland to put the sails up and the fender that was tied on to the lifeline magically unties itself and falls into the water. Apparently, the point of knots is that they are supposed to stay tied until you untie them. Mine either don't untie unless a considerable amount of effort is applied or untie all by themselves.

For those that don't know much about sailing, let me explain how we got ourselves in this situation. Scott is the skipper of our boat and, like all good leaders, he empowers the crew with little tasks and duties so that they feel involved and motivated. One of my duties is the tying and untying of the fenders. Fenders are rubber objects that protect your boat when you are maneuvering up against a wharf, dock or jetty. They are basically car bumpers. They come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and colors.

You generally tie fenders on using a clove hitch (something I have yet to master). A clove hitch is a knot that can theoretically be quickly tied and easily untied (ideally with human intervention). We generally tie our fenders to the lifeline. A lifeline is one of those few Nauticalese terms that is easy to understand without a dictionary. It literally is a line that runs around the perimeter of the boat to keep you from falling off. It is designed to save your life and prevent accidental man overboard drills. People who race actually take lifelines off of their boats as they drag in the water when their boats are heeled over. This takes precious seconds off of their time. Crazy people. This is why I don't go racing.

On this particular day, before heading out for a sail, we were going to tie up at X Pier to get some water. We moor out in the "piles" at Westhaven Marina and store our dinghy in the dinghy racks on X Pier. When we want to get out to our boat, Scott rows us (thanks Scott!) out to the "piles". If we need water or have to load a lot of stuff onto the boat, we swing by the X Pier where you can tie up temporarily. So I tied on our fenders, using what I thought were clove hitch knots, and off we went to the X Pier. We got some water and headed on out. Once we headed out, my next task was to untie the fenders and store them in the locker in the cockpit. I successfully removed 3 out of 4 fenders. My mind then wandered (probably thinking about what kind of snacks we were going to have) and I completely forgot about the fourth fender. Scott is much more focused than I am and noticed a fender floating in the water. Being a frugal guy he thought, "Score! Someone dropped their fender. Let's grab it - we can always use an extra one." At this point, I started paying attention again, did some math and realized that it was actually our fender. I confessed. Scott sighed.

On the bright side, although we didn't get a free fender, it was an excellent opportunity to practice our man overboard skills. The man overboard drill is one of those safety procedures you hope you never have to use but you should be prepared to do so should a man, woman or fender fall overboard. Basically, you gybe and let the sheets (aka ropes in ordinary English) go which turns you around and allows you to stop back by the person or fender in the water. (Side note: Scott says you should tack, not gybe. But I'm going with what Penny Whiting says.) As Scott was in charge of turning the boat around my task was to lean over the side of the boat with a boat hook and try to scoop up the fender. Either my arms are too short, our boat hook isn't long enough or I'm hopelessly uncoordinated. Or maybe all three. Needless to say I didn't manage to grab the fender on the first time, or the second time, or the third time and so on and so on. Eventually, Scott "relieved me of my duties" and then managed to helm the boat and grab the fender. He is so coordinated (and he has longer arms). We'll do more practice this coming summer.

One thing that the accidental man overboard drill did make me think about is the importance of redundancy in your boat equipment and systems. I came dangerously close to dropping our one and only boat hook in the water and we need our boat hook to moor. So the next day, I decided that we had to head down to the local marine shop and buy ourselves another boat hook. I don't think we have redundancy for anything else on our boat, but we are the proud owners of two boat hooks.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi!

How Long Can You Hold Your Breath?

How long can you hold your breath for underwater? This is a really important question so think carefully before you answer.

Are you ready? Do you have your answer? Good. The correct answer is 2 minutes.

 

And how do I know this? Well, as a very supportive wife, I thought I should do some more reading about sailing so that I can show an interest in Scott’s passion. So I was reading through Beth Leonard’s book, The Voyager’s Handbook, when the following passage caught my eye:

“An offshore boat needs to stay upright. It if is rolled by an exceptionally large wave, a monohull needs to come back upright within less than 2 minutes, the length of time most of us can hold our breath.”

 

Holy buckets!! Are you kidding me?!

A couple of years ago, Scott gave me a copy of a glossy brochure entitled Cruising into the Sunset with Your Partner. I read it very carefully especially the small print. Scott is very crafty and twists words and phrases with the polish of a politician so it is really important to read the small print carefully. I read the brochure multiple times including the small print. It described walks on moonlit beaches, tropical drinks served in coconuts, relaxing with a good book in the cockpit and had lots of pictures of dolphins and Narwhals frolicking in the ocean. 

Nowhere, and I mean nowhere, did it say anything about boats rolling over and needing to hold your breath underwater for two minutes. If I wasn’t married to him, I would report him to NZ Commerce Commission for violations of the Fair Trading Act. (Note: If Scott ever hands you a glossy brochure with a mischievous smile on his face, I implore you to read the small print very closely. Then read it again. Then consult your attorney and have him/her read it too.)

I have absolutely no idea how long I can hold my breath underwater or if I can hold my breath at all. Clearly, I need to test this out. I thought about filling up my bathtub with water and trying it out there. But then I remembered that the apartment I live in is roughly the size of a shoebox so I don’t have a bathtub. I then thought of filling the kitchen sink up with water and sticking my head in. Seemed like a good idea but then I realized I won’t know when two minutes are up because my head will be stuck in a sink full of water. So, my next step is to buy a kitchen timer so that I can hear it go off when two minutes are up (this is assuming I can hold my breath for two minutes and I’m still conscious by the time the timer goes off). 

I headed down to my local Warehouse store to buy a kitchen timer. For those who don’t know, Warehouse is New Zealand’s answer to Target. Well, it is actually New Zealand’s answer to a down market type of Target. It is the type of store that generally never has what you’re looking for and the pricing information on the shelves doesn’t actually correspond to the merchandise displayed on those shelves. They do however have displays up front of weird and wonderful products on special, such as tubes of toothpaste for $1 each. Upon close examination of the writing on the toothpaste box, however, you’ll note that the toothpaste was intended for sale in Malaysia, not New Zealand. 

By the way, if you were ever wondering what happens to all of those containers which fall off ships, they wash up in New Zealand where they unpack them and sell the stuff in the Warehouse accounting for the randomness of their inventory. On the particular day I went to the Warehouse there were no kitchen timers. There was a price tag on the shelf that said “Kitchen Timer - $5.99”, but no actual kitchen timers. I did, however, walk out with five tubes of toothpaste.

So with no reliable methodology to test whether I can hold my breath underwater for two minutes, I’ve decided the next best thing to do is to learn more about sailboats. There are two great benefits to this:

 

1. When Scott is rambling on about sailing enthusiastically imparting his sailing expertise to me, I’ll have some sort of clue as to what he is rambling on about sharing with me and on what points he needs correction.
2. I’ll have a better idea about what to look for when we upgrade our boat, in particular, ensuring we buy one that won’t roll over.

To that end, I’ve decided to do a series of blog posts about boat buying. It should prove to be educational and amusing (well probably more amusing than educational). Some of the scintillating topics I'm thinking about covering include:

Skin & Bones, Tails & Toes

Did you ever wonder what was underneath  a boat's skin (aka super expensive marine paint)? What exactly are boats made of and how are they constructed? I had assumed that they're made out of balsa wood so that they can easily float in the water. But then I started worrying about what would happen if we hit an iceberg in the Arctic while searching for Narwhals. Hopefully they're made up of something stronger. Let's find out.

Unlike cats, humans don't have tails (some of us wish we had tails, but that is another post entirely). But sailboats have something tail-like, namely their rudder. We'll find out more about how the rudder works so that we can keep our boat out of the way of icebergs. And toes, where would we be without our toes? They're those cute little things at the very bottom of our bodies and essential to getting around. But sometimes we trip and stub our toes. Ouch! Instead of toes, boats have keels at the very bottom of their bodies. Sometimes they stub their keels when they run aground. Double ouch! There seems to be quite a debate about different types of keels which we'll need to explore. Hopefully, the debate is as simple as the one you might have at the nail salon trying to decide if you should go with hot pink or red nail polish on your toes. I'm considering hot pink for our keel.

Siamese Twins: Freak of Nature or an Evolutionary Step Forward?

Ah, the great monohull vs. catamaran debate. Is it better to have a "normal" boat with one keel with one engine attached to one mast? Or should you go with the Siamese twins of boats - the catamaran?  They have two keels (each with their own engine) fused together in the womb (aka shipyard) and they share one mast. I'm pretty sure I know which way we're gong, but there is a lot written on this topic so we'll do some investigating just to be sure. It should be fun!

Does My Bum Look Big in This? 

Or alternatively, how big is too big. We currently sail on a 26' boat and are looking to upgrade to a larger, blue water cruiser. One of the big questions is what size of boat we should go for. It will definitely be bigger than 26' but how much bigger should it be? I don't like to parallel park large cars, so I suspect I won't like mooring large boats. But I do have a lot of DVDs which I need storage for so I may have to compromise here.

The Digestive Tract 

One of the key areas on a boat (to my mind at least) is the "galley" (or kitchen). This is where you conjure up all sorts of yummy treats and meals to eat. Since my favorite pastime is eating (my second favorite is thinking about eating), I think researching galley set-ups and accoutrements will be my favorite topic. But unfortunately, what you eat ends up meandering through your digestive tract and, well, has to come out somewhere. This brings us to the "head" (or bathroom). And although this sounds like a really gross topic, it is a pretty important one to get my head around.

Gizmos & Gadgets

Oh my goodness, there certainly are a lot of gizmos and gadgets that you might want on a boat. Some of which you might need, some of which you just want because they look shiny and have bright colored flashing lights to keep you entertained during night watches. We'll work our way through these and put together a wish list for our new boat.

How to Keep My Mom from Having a Heart Attack 

My mom, like all moms I suspect, worries. If she has read this post she is probably really worried now as I don't think she realized boats can roll-over. Heck, I worry too about sailing in gale force winds and falling off the boat. So perhaps the most important topic to explore is safety equipment. This may be dull, but it will keep my mom happy. And if she isn't happy, she might ground me and tell me I can't go out to play sailboat with Scott.

So there you go, coming up soon for your entertainment - a series of posts about how to buy a boat when you know nothing about boats.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi!  

How Not to Explain Roller Reefing to a Cat

Someone I know recently read our post about buying our boat Rainbow's End and was highly impressed with my knowledge of all things sailing. He seemed rather interested in the description of our roller reefing system and asked me if I could explain the following:

"In terms of sails, she came with a Ligard main sail with four battens and two reef points and a Ligard headsail with a Reef Rite roller reefing system. For those that don't know (and I certainly didn't), Reef Rite is a New Zealand product and regarded as one of the best roller reefing systems made. The beauty of it is that the lower drum has holes in it where a pawl is inserted to reef the headsail. The pawl is attached to a wire that is led aft along the toe rail to the cockpit. This means that there is no tension on the reef line and you never have to worry about the headsail rolling out accidentally even when completely furled. Now that I've experienced a roller reefing set-up, I don't think I could ever have a boat without one. It makes life so much easier."

Yikes. I think I have just been caught out as a sailing fraud. I have a confession to make - I didn't write that paragraph, Scott did. The only thing I wrote was "It makes life so much easier." And that's true. I don't know how the thing works, but I do know that it means that when we want to unfurl the headsail, I can stay in the cockpit with a cup of tea and give Scott salient instruction on things I know nothing about (my favorite pastime). The alternative would be for me to make my way to the bow clutching the headsail in my arms, collecting bruises on my legs as I bash into things and trying desperately not to fall overboard. Then I would have to attach the tack to the tack shackle, hank the luff to the forestay (ensuring all the hanks are the right way around), attach the jib halyard to the head, attach the jib sheets to the clew of the headsail using bowline knots (my favorite knot, not) and then make my way back to the cockpit collecting more bruises on my legs on the way.

If you were impressed by my description of how to attach the headsail, don't be. I don't actually retain information like that in my head. I reserve all available brain space for thinking about my next meal and wondering why aliens haven't yet visited our planet. I just looked up this information in Penny Whiting's book. A book Scott considers his personal "tome of terror" as I quote frequently to him from it with corrective prescriptions to his eccentric seamanship.

From the description above, I think you can see why I am such a big fan of the roller reefer system. The choice is clear - stay in the cockpit with a cup of tea or perform contorted, bruise inducing acrobatics while tying complicated, convoluted knots up on the bow.

Unfortunately, I'm catching up with the guy who wants to know more about roller reefing set-up next week so I thought I should try to be able to explain it. I should clarify - it isn't unfortunate that I'm seeing him next week (he is very good fun). It is just unfortunate that I have to pretend like I know what I'm talking about when it comes to sailing. Hopefully, he is easily fooled. So I asked Scott if he would email me an explanation that I could relay. I was expecting something simple along these lines - "There is this gizmo and this locking mechanism. When the lever is in the upwards position, the gizmo locks and the sail doesn't come unwrapped."

Here is the explanation Scott sent me:

"The furling system is basically three parts that spin in unison to furl and unfurl the sail and is attached to the forestay which is a wire that connects to the top of the mast to the bow of the boat and helps hold the mast up. The wire passes through the three parts and is the axis for the system to turn. In order to keep the system from sliding up or down the wire a stationary attachment is placed on the wire at the bottom of the furling system

The top part is like a collar the fits around the rectangular sail track (middle part). The bottom part is also a collar like the top part except bigger. The top part is attached to the top of the sail (the head) and can slide up and down the sail track so you can hoist and lower the sail. When these collars are spun they also spin the sail track in unison to furl/unfurl the sail. The sail track has a slot for a bead (a bead is just like piping found around the perimeter of cushions). The bead runs the full length of the luff of the sail. The luff is the most forward of the three sides of a triangular sail with the most aft being called the leach and the bottom called the foot. The bottom where the luff and foot of the sail meet is called the tack. The bottom where the foot and the leach meet is called the clew and is where the sheets are attached with bowlines. The bottom collar (or drum) as mentioned is bigger and consists of two flat plates one on top of the other but separated by about a 2 inch gap. The sail track passes through the middle of the top plate and then terminates and is fastened to the middle of the bottom plate. A snap shackle is attached to the top of the top plate and is where the tack of the sail is attached to. Again when the collar spins it works in tandem with the sail track and top collar to furl/unfurl the sail. The gap between the two plates of the bottom collar is where the furling line is wound or unwound to spin both collars and sail track. When you want to roll the sail up you pull the furling line. When you want to unfurl the sail you pull in one of the two sheets attached to the clew of the sail. When the sheet is pulled it unfurls the sail and winds in the furling line into the gap on the bottom collar/drum. That is way you make sure the furling line is ready because if it snags anything the sail will only partially unfurl.

The pawl is located just below the bottom plate of the bottom collar/drum and is a short stainless steel rod. An integrated circular lip extends down from the middle of the bottom plate of the bottom collar/drum. This lip partially encapsulates the bottom stationary attachment that keeps the furling system from sliding up or down the foreguy/wire. The lip being part of the collar/drum also spins but has a hole in it. When the pawl is tripped the pawl passes through the hole in the lip and into a hole in the stationary attachment. So the bottom collar can't spin thus the interconnected sail track and top collar also can't spin."

Okay, I have no idea what to do with this. I actually stopped reading after the third sentence and watched a couple episodes of 24 instead. If Scott had been here imparting this gem of sailing expertise in person, I likely would have given him my patented cat-like disinterested stare. When I'm particularly disinterested it looks something like this.

Yep, it is pretty clear Scott and I have very different approaches to sailing. While he is busy contributing to online sailing forum discussions about the pros and cons of bolt on keels vs. encapsulated keels, I am happily reading books about how to make gourmet meals out of canned goods. Much like cats, I spend my days thinking about my next meal in between naps.

Thanks for stopping by our blog - we love it when people come visit! We're also on Facebook - we'd love for you to pop by and say hi!