Sunday, August 21

Water diaries...

(Wildlife)

This, in my last Water Diaries entry, I'm going to tell you about the wildlife we see. There are basically three: whales, dolphins and seals. And during our five weeks down the coast we have seen all three.

Just out of Boothbay Harbor with my sister and her husband aboard we came upon a pod of whales. They were all around us. We saw them blow, then raise their huge bodies, then go under again, only to surface again in a few minutes. Whales are mammals and unlike fish, they must come up for air. We were motoring when we saw the first whale coming toward us. We turned off the engine and just sat there watching. There was another sailboat a little bit of a distance from us who did the same thing. It's sort of like stopping at the side of the road to watch the deer.

Dolphins are everywhere and usually travel in pairs. We see their fins rise and then go under and one of us yells 'Dolphins!' And we crane our eyes to see where they will rise next. Again, when my sister and husband were aboard we were right in the middle of a pod of them.

They came within inches of the boat, so close that we could look down and see them swimming. Unlike whales, they don't blow when they rise, but if they get close enough what you hear is a kind of snorting sound as they come out of the water.

Harbor seals are all over the place from the Saint John Harbor right down to the end of Maine where we sailed to. They have cute dog heads and if they rise close enough to your boat you swear they are looking at you.

Saturday, August 20

(Sea sickness)

We are land creatures. We have bodies that are perfectly engineered to live on the terra firma. The bones and muscles of our feet and legs are designed by God to walk long distances. We are not sea creatures. We don't have webbed feet, we can only hold our breath for a minute or less and if we're in the water for any length of time, our land skin begins to shrivel and the inner core of our body gets cold.

Yet from the beginning of our history we humans have been drawn to the sea. We have made boats and carried ourselves and our goods from place to place by them; from the birch bark canoes of our history to the huge container ships of today. And somewhere along the line people who spend time on boats have had to deal with sea sickness.

In my research I've learned that 98 percent of all people who spend any amount of time on boats will get sea sick at one time or another in their lives. I've also learned that women are more prone to it than men.

It has to do with the inner ear and balance. Our inner ear control's our balance, so that when we're walking on land we stay perfectly upright and don't go falling all over the place and down the stairs, and out of bed in the morning and off sidewalks. When you think about it, this balance we have is pretty amazing.

As soon as we step on a boat, though, the inner ear says to the brain, Whoa! Something's different! Something's different! This is NOT normal. If it's just a floating dock or calm seas the brain says, Don't worry, ear, you can cope, we're okay. Just relax.

But if the seas are unkindly, the inner ear says to the brain, This is too much for me, I can't manage. This is too weird. And the brain says, I can't cope either! Body, DO something. And our body does what it normally does under extreme stress and that's to make us feel physically ill.

The worse seas for me aren't necessarily the roughest, windiest seas. In fact rough, windy seas might be hard on the psyche, but they're okay on the body. What will turn me green are sea swells with no wind. A friend calls these elevator seas. Visualize this: You're on a broken elevator. It refuses to stop at any floor to let you off, but is stuck somewhere between floors two and floors four. It goes up, then comes down, then goes up again and then goes down. And you're stuck on this thing for three or four hours. Are we green yet?

Sea swells are the leftover seas from storms. It could be a hurricane or some disturbance way out in the Atlantic, but by the time it reaches us in Maine the wind has long since died down, but the seas haven't.

Here is my best remedy for sea sickness:

1. Get to land

Here are my next best remedies for sea sickness:

1. Sea bracelets. These can be purchased in any drug store or marine store. But keep in mind that if purchased at a marine store they will be twice the price as the drugstore variety. (Any item with the word MARINE plastered on it gives the manufacturer the right to double the price.) Do they work? I'm not sure. I wear mine all the time. And maybe it's psychological, but hey, I'll take psychological, I'll take anything when I'm out there. Because I think, maybe I would be MORE sick without them.

2. Tablets and pills. There are many. Gravol is the Canadian equivalent to Dramamine but this is like a sleeping pill to me. There are other chewable tablets which are supposed to make you less drowsy. And I guess these work, but it's a choice between been dozed out the entire time or taking your chances that the swells won't get you this time and you can enjoy the day. We have been a number of times to Australia and every time we're there we stock up on something called Kwells (don't you love that name?) which work for me and make me less sleepy than all of north American brands.

3. Ginger. This root is the old sea captain's tried and true remedy for nausea. It comes in many forms; ginger ale, ginger snaps (as long as they're made with real ginger), crystallized ginger and ginger pills that you can buy in a bottle. Ginger works for me about as well as sea bracelets.

4. Patches. I'm told there are these patches you can buy to stick behind your ears. I haven't tried them because the few friends who've tried them say they give them a headache. I'm prone to migraines as it is, so have nixed the idea. And besides my sea sickness manifests itself first as a headache which migrates to my stomach. It would be like offering a sea sickness tablet with the side effect: may cause nausea.

5. Sitting out in the back of the boat in the fresh air and looking at the horizon. This has the effect of settling the inner ear down. It's as if you are saying to it, There's land over there, see? It's flat. It's not moving. Keep focused and you'll do fine.

6. Hug a teddy bear. (See above picture.)

Do you have a remedy for sea sickness you'd like to share? I'd love to add it to my blog.

Water diaries...

(The Sounds of Sailing)

Yesterday we had one of those glorious days on the water, the kind of days that sailors dream about. The sun shone and the wind was fine and in our favor. It blew a steady 5-10 knots with gusts, at times, to 15. It was kind of wind I love, the kind of sailing I love.

We gave our third crew member Otto (stands for auto-pilot) the day off and I took the helm while Rik trimmed the sails. He takes great pride in getting all the tell tails (little ribbon streamers that are attached to the sides of the sails), all flowing perfectly back the way they’re supposed to.
It was a perfect beam reach all the way from Isle Au Haut to North East Harbor. Now to explain a little - a beam reach is when the wind is blowing directly at the ‘beam’ or side of the boat. This is the fastest point of sail, and in some ways it’s the most comfortable. Sails are out to the side, boat is gently heeling. Beating, or going as close into the wind as you possibly can, can have you heeling unnervingly, and sailing with the wind behind you or a ‘following sea’ can cause sea sickness (another day for that blog, I promise).

People comment on the quietness of sailing. It is a peaceful pastime, but definitely not quiet. I was listening to the sounds yesterday as we moved through the water. First, there is the foaming, hissing of the water it streams behind. It almost sounds like dish soap melting. Then there is the creaking crinching sound as my husband winches in the sheets with the winch handle. I also hear the pinging sound of the topping lift as it hits the backstay.

Occasionally channel 16 on our VHF radio buzzes with announcements from the coast guard. There was a Pan Pan yesterday, a small sailboat overdo at a location and people were worried. We hear people hailing each other, and then switching to channel 68 to make plans or contact marinas for the night. Or we hear the cackles of radios too far away to get a clear signal.

Partway through the day we heard our own boat being called. “Gypsy Rover Two, Gypsy Rover Two.”

We were startled! Who would be calling us? No other boats accompanied us on this trip. It turned out to be friends we’d met sailing a year ago. They were right on our stern. We had a nice chat before we turned to starboard and they turned to port.

Back to the helm, I listen to the sounds outside; the screech caw of the seagulls as they cluster around the back of the lobster boats, hoping to get some of the bait leavings. We hear the lobster boats with their thunderous engines starting up, stopping to check traps and then starting up again.
The gong in the bell buoys like one note church bells, and the the far off sound of a fog horn like blowing into a glass coke bottle. That mournful sound of it always reminds me of a train at night.

It is peaceful yes, but anything but quiet.

We will be at NE Harbor one night and then onward towards the Canadian border.

Monday, August 15

Water diaries...

(Wind magnet)

The bow of our boat is a wind magnet. We’re convinced of that. If we’re heading south, the wind will be coming from the south. If we overnight and then go back the opposite way, the wind will have shifted during the night and will be coming from the north. Which means that we motor unless we want to tack back and forth and turn a five hour trip into a ten hour one.

But really, this did happen to us. As we headed down the coast to pick up my sister and brother in law for three days of sailing, we faced south west winds. Today as we came back after dropping them off, the wind was coming from the north east.

People think people on a sail boat sail a lot. In actual fact, on any given trip, we probably do more motoring per capita than sailing. I guess we’re just not purists.

The four of us had a great time, despite sea sickness and some – not a lot – of rain. I could write a whole blog on sea sickness, and maybe I will before this trip ends. As I have said before, I think we humans are land creatures and have no business being on the sea. To turn us into water creatures requires all sorts of work from us in terms of sea-sick remedies and pills. Still, we try. Another day for my sea-sickness blog. I promise. (I’m prone to it. I’ve tried everything.)

We picked our guests up in Boothbay Harbor and then motored (not sailed – the wind was in our nose, of course), down to a protected and wonderful little anchorage called The Basin, with water as warm as lake water. Well, a cold like. A cold mountain lake, maybe. Still, on a hot day there’s nothing like a cold mountain lake, so we swam, ate too much, of course, and rowed around the bay and sat around in the evening and talked.

Next night we were at another great place called Five Islands where we ate lobster for lunch and hiked around the town and dinghied around the bay.

Now, we are back in Camden where we will staying for two nights. As I write this, I’m waiting for laundry. Tomorrow will be a work day for me. I’ll take my trusty laptop and head to the library for the day while Rik mucks about in the boat fixing things.

In two days we begin heading north and to home.

Thursday, August 11

Water diaries...

(The Salty Air)

You would think I would learn. But no, I had to buy strawberries again. They looked so good in that little plastic container in the store. So red. So luscious. And even when I vowed I wouldn't.

You see, the first time I purchased them I brought them home to the boat in the afternoon, thinking they’d be wonderful on our cereal the next morning. But, alas, by the time breakfast came around all of them, to a berry was mildewed and molded. Not one of them was salvageable. This was especially distressing because these were expensive organic strawberries we’d gotten at the Co-op in Belfast. That’s a wonderful little place, by the way, that specializes in whole and organic foods and simply great coffee.

The second time I bought them it was the afternoon. But no problem, we’d eat them by supper time. But the package was so large, surely they would last this time until morning cereal. In the morning I was able to salvage only a few. I was beginning to feel like one of the Children of Israel mothers who tried to save her manna for the next day.

The marine environment is rough on most things. It plays weird games with food products. Crackers, cookies, cereal, nuts and dry goods I put tightly in Ziploc bags as soon as I get them. Most of the time I remember. About a week or so ago I purchased these long sticks of Pepperidge Farms cookie/candy things that look like cigars. I know you’ve seen them. They’re often served with ice-cream and they come in a metal canister. Surely that would offer protection from the elements. A few days ago I got these out as a evening special treat with our tea. But, they were soft and unappetizing. Salt, I am sure, had gotten into their pores.

Coffee is another thing that doesn't do so well on the boat. We have learned to purchase it in small quantities. Right now we’re in East Boothbay at a wonderful and friendly little place called Ocean Point Marina and I am washing sheets. The reason for this is simple. A couple of days ago we went through some awful seas coming here from Tenants Harbor. We plotted a direct route that took us out and into some pretty open water where we were continually splashed with sea water.

Unbeknownst to either of us, the front hatch, under which we both sleep, was slightly open. Uh oh.

Things that get wet with salt water just don’t dry. They just don’t. I’m of the opinion that you could aim a hair dryer at a salt water wet towel for twenty minutes and it would end up just as clammy as when you started.

Early on in our trip Rik went to West Marine in Southwest Harbor and came back with something called Dry Bunk. It’s a layer of this white cardboardy stuff that you cut to fit under your sleeping berths. It actually seems to be working.

This salty environment, we’re told, is also not good for laptop computers. And if this trip was any longer than 6 weeks, I’d invest in one of those watertight airtight Pelican cases to store it in when I wasn’t using it. the keyboard is sort of feeling salty and crusty these days.

God made us humans, I think, to live on land, and when we try to live on water we have to go through great gyrations to make it work. But we’re ingenious, and we try.

We anchored last night in a quiet little place called Seal Cove off the Damariscotta River. In some ways it reminded me of our fresh water home port in the St. John River system - because of the mosquitoes.

Long about two in the morning I awoke to hear splashing, grunting, and a whole lot of complaining (No, it wasn’t my husband!). I couldn't see because it was dark, but I suspect a gang of rowdy seals were having an argument on the rocks beside us.

Today we are heading to Boothbay where we will be picking up my sister and her husband for a few days of cruising.

Friday, August 7

Water diaries...

(The Behavior of water)

When I was a little girl I was captivated by the ocean. Favorite trips were to the New Jersey shore where I watch the water for hours. I loved the way the waves sounded, the whooshing as they broke upon the sand, the clickety tick tacky sound as they receded, like the sound of someone breathing at night. I remember the lumpy feel of sand under my towel as I sat there, the constant digging with my fingers to make a better place for sitting, the feel of the sun on my already sunburned shoulders, the sand-muffled conversations of people around me. And I would watch the water.

I am still content to do that. I imagine there are people who find this same fascination with gardens or wheat fields or night stars and telescopes, but for me, it’s always been and continues to be water. I am drawn to it.

And on this extended cruise, I find myself studying the water as we move through it.

Yesterday we made our way to Seal Bay, one of my favorite anchorages in Maine. It was breathlessly calm and the water was like a piece of greeny blue silk as we moved through it. We scarcely disturbed its surface; it hardly remembered that we’d been there. There were squall lines around us and in front of us, where it looked like someone had taken a metal comb with sharp tines and crisscrossed it back and forth, over and over. The wind is stronger in these areas, and Rik would unfurl the jib (the front sail.) only to bring it in again when we’d cross back over the line and into a patch of unwrinkled satin.

There are other lines on the water besides squall lines. Tide lines occur where the flood tide coming in meets the receding ebb tide. At one moment our GPS might be telling us we are moving across the planet at a speed of 6.2 knots, and then, we cross the line and our GPS says we are going 4.8. These lines are most noticeable on places near and around the Bay of Fundy where the tide funnels in and rises thirty and forty feet. There is a place we sail by on our way down here (Deer Island, Canada) were supposedly there is the biggest whirlpool in the world. Old Sow, it’s called. I don’t like to think about sailing too close to it.

We had two friends aboard when we arrived in Seal Bay in dead calm and hot sun. We anchored, swam, had supper where we ate too much, as one does on these trips, and then made Jiffy Pop popcorn. Remember Jiffy Pop popcorn? The only time one makes Jiffy Pop is when one’s camping, right? Not as easy as popping a bag into a microwave, but just as good, better even, when eaten under the stars. And the stars last night were magnificent. We could see and name just about every constellation we had learned about in school.

We gave our guests the vee-berth (where we normally sleep) and Rik and I slept out in the cockpit area snug underneath our new back zip-in enclosure. It was cozy and pleasant, and we both slept exceedingly well.

Coming back to Camden today the water was very different. I sometimes think that Christ’s greatest miracle was not feeding five thousand or turning water into wine, but was calming the sea.

Peace! Be still.

I wanted to shout that today to the waves and water. It was blowing a pretty steady 15 knots, which is getting to the edge of my comfortableness. I know, I know, to most sailors, fifteen knots is just ‘getting started,’ but to me it’s just about enough on our small boat.

And so I watched the water, the lacey, tatted edges of the waves as they white-capped around us, the wake that our boat made, as we pounded through it. I watched the waves break, and then recede, just like the waves I used to watch as a child.

We got back to Camden with windblown hair and a cabin that showed the results of our heeling – cushions, pillows, jackets, sails - basically anything unsecured– on the floor.

Tomorrow we head further down the coast.

Tuesday, August 2

Water diaries...

(A lesson on ecology)

Anyone wishing to learn about how ecology and water and power systems work need to spend some time living aboard a sailboat.

For example, if we want fresh water – for showering, drinking, and washing with – we have to physically add it to our tank. If I decide I want a half hour hot shower, well, then I might as well forget showering again for a week! Food products that sink we throw overboard when we’re well away from shore. There’s always some little critter down there who’ll be grateful for our leftover spaghetti. Food products that float are added to our garbage, and then placed in the ‘garbage scow’ (our dinghy) that we tow behind us. We dispose of our garbage bags when we get to shore. Btw, apple cores float.

Our holding tank must also be constantly monitored and cared for. Trust me on this.

Power. I could write volumes about power. If we want to turn on a light at night to read, we have to be sure we’ve generated the power to do so. The main way we do this is by our diesel engine. We also have a solar panel which quite efficiently trickles bits of energy from the sun into our battery. Long distance cruisers have wind vanes.

We carry with us extra containers of water, diesel, propane (for our bbq and one burner stove), and stove alcohol for our two burner alcohol stove.

We have an inverter aboard which takes 12 volt (which powers our boat) and changes it to 110 which, as you know, is what powers our homes. The theory goes that you can take any home appliance and plug it into a inverter and away you go. But as our inverter squealed when Rik was trying to make further modifications to our enclosure, (yes, we have a sewing machine on board!), we’ve since decided only to use the inverter when the engine is running. I actually brought my curling iron aboard, but haven’t used it. Things that get hot – like irons and curling irons consume enormous amounts of energy. (So, flat hair I shall have for the duration!)

I have a beloved four year old iBook whose battery life is around two hours now. (In its childhood it lasted 5 hours.) Whenever we turn on the engine, I run down below and plug in my iBook to charge it.

As I write this, we’re in Fitzpatrick’s’ restaurant in Camden waiting for our breakfast and my iBook is plugged into the wall plug beside me. We purposely came to this restaurant and chose this booth because of the wall plugs.

And internet? Yes, we have internet. This is a working holiday for both of us. We purchased internet for a month which is supposed to work up and down the coast of Maine. So far, it’s working. And hey, it’s a tax deduction after all.

We arrived here the day before yesterday after motoring in dead calm and hot sun down the Penobscot River. The few times Rik tried to put up the sails, they hung limply. So, we furled them in again and put on the engine. We passed a outcropping of rocks which the seals decided was their spot to ‘sun.’

We’ve seen some remarkable boats while we’ve been here in port. Currently there are two absolutely humongous power cruisers here in the harbor. As we motor by them in our dinghy we try to guess which movie stars are in town. We’ve actually gone back to our boat and googled the boat names to see what we could find. At this point our celebrities are keeping a low profile. Googling their boat names reveal nothing.

We have one more ‘town’ day while I wait for a courier package to be delivered, then we’ll be off. There are some islands we want to visit. I much prefer anchorage days – or camping days – as I call them, to marina days. First of all, marinas cost money, but they do have amenities like showers and laundry.

Think of it this way – using the camping analogy - marinas are like travel trailer parks and anchorages are like setting up your tent in the woods.

Thursday, July 27

Water diaries...

Today as I write this (not as I post this because I need a ‘town day’ to get connected), we’re moored (camped) in a wonderful anchorage next to Warren Island Sate Park, an island with campsites, lean-to’s, picnic tables and hiking trails and only accessible by water. We’ve picked up one of the free Warren Island mooring balls yesterday and after a swim (Yes, we DO swim in Maine!), Rik rowed our dinghy to shore while I stayed on board and wrote. Later on today I plan to go to the island, hike around the trails for an hour, and then park myself at a picnic table and write. (My first draft is almost done, whew!)

Last night we experienced a magnificent and awesome lightning and thunder show all around us in the water. Since water is such a great conductor of electricity, lightning used to frighten me when we were on our boat, simply because we have this 37 foot lightning rod up there saying ‘hit me! hit me!’

I became less afraid three years ago when during a massive thunderstorm three sailboats with their huge masts were rafted to a low profile power boat in our lake. When the storm hit, lightning struck the power boat and knocked out all the electronics but didn’t touch the sailboats.

So, lightning, it seems, has a will and a mind of its own.

But Rik and I stood in our zip-in back enclosure (think tent trailer with that zip in front porch part) and were perfectly dry as we watched.

Tomorrow we head up the Penobscot River to Bucksport and to Fort Knox Festival Days (No, not THE Fort Knox, but I bet the people here in Maine think it’s just as important.)

It is relaxing here with no TV, phone, only sporadic email and only books to read. So far I’ve read three mysteries and I have a new favorite author – she’s a Canadian, I’ve met her at Crime Writers of Canada events. Her name is Mary Jane Maffini. Pick up anything by her and I guarantee you you’ll love it.

But, ahem, last night I didn’t even feel like reading or writing. Instead, I ran down the power on my iBook playing Bugdom for two hours. (Bugdom is the only computer game I play.) I will have to wait until we run the engine to run to recharge it.

But I have work to do today.

Thursday, July 21

Six weeks on the water…

I am writing this while sitting cross-legged on the front stoop of the public library in Northeast Harbor, Maine. They have wireless connectivity inside, but alas, it is early morning and the library isn’t opened yet. Fortunately, their wireless hub reaches here. Here and there seated on the grass are other people with laptops, doing what my husband, Rik, and I are doing – checking email, paying bills, writing in blogs and MSNing friends.

Rik retired from his job at the university two weeks ago, and his dream – for as long as I’ve known him and that’s 35 years – was to get a sailboat and maybe live on it. We are trying this for six weeks. If we don’t kill each other in these close quarters for six weeks, maybe we can do it for longer. He wants six months in the Caribbean.

Our boat is a Tanzer model sailboat 28 feet in length – which is pretty small by yachting standards, and as we sail by these enormous luxury yachts complete with crew in matching shirts, we do feel that we are in the dinghy category. With them it’s hot showers and chef-prepared meals. With us, it’s solar showers and cooking over a two burner alcohol stove or our new Coleman one burner camp stove. You get the picture. With us it’s camping on the water.

Yesterday we arrived at NE Harbor, Maine and I decided I wanted a shower, but when we heard they’d raised the price of a single shower to five bucks we decided to shower solar-style in our boat’s cockpit with the curtains drawn. (We have a full enclosure for the outside part of our boat.) My husband smilingly said, ‘We’re on a fixed income now, you know.”

Two days ago we sailed down the Grand Manan Channel for the entire day in a horrible chop, which is what happens to the water when the current moves it in one direction and the wind is blowing the exact opposite. Suffice it to say, this had me crouched in the cockpit against the bulkhead sea sick. (Some of you know that my book Steal Away is set on the island of Grand Manan). They say when you’re seasick to pick a spot on the horizon and gaze at it. But that’s hard when all there is is fog.

We finally dropped our hook (that's 'boat-ese' for lowering your anchor) in a beautiful cove near Mistake Island, Maine. The next day woke to bright fog, (there are many different kinds of fog!) which turned burned off to a wonderfully hot and sunny day.

This is very much a working holiday for me as I’m facing a September novel deadline, and so much of my time must be spent writing. My husband keeps asking, “Can you write onboard? Is this going to work? Can we do this?"

And my answer to that is yes and no. I can’t write when we’re underway. I get sea sick. (I’m constantly on the lookout for new sea-sick meds and ideas. ) But I can write when we’re in a non-roly anchorage. Or when we’re in port, as we are today. We’re going to be staying here for a few days so I can get caught up on my work.

As soon as I’m able to, I’ll download some pictures of our trip.

Monday, July 10, 2005

Something I'm reading...

Just thought I'd mention - this past week I picked up The Devil's in the Details by fellow Canadian and Crime Writers of Canada member, Mary Jane Maffini, and I can't put it down! The writing's wonderful and the stoy has me by the cuff of my sleeves and won't let go. If you want a good, fun, summer read check out her books.

I also put up a few new pictures of my grandchildren to the left here. I know, I know I'm the stereotypical grandmother who opens her wallet to complete strangers on the street to show them pictures of her l'il grandbabies. But, in my case it's different, because in my case they really are adorable.