Ok, we're less than a week out from transferring the papers. We got the survey results and, after a short conversation with the surveyor, and several long conversations about the implications of what we were buying, we're going for it.
Eva and I talked about what the differences in the surveyor's language might mean. Lot's of sentences containing the word 'should' and a few with the word 'must'. We finally decided that was like buying a used car, the brakes MUST be in good condition, the seat covers SHOULD be replaced. That kind of thing. It's the way of differentiating those items the surveyor found that MUST be corrected and those that are up to the new owners discretion and pocketbook. At least that's the way we finally decided to decipher the document.
Anyway, now the 4th of July weekend is coming up and it's the perfect time to move the boat because if we don't do it this weekend, I'm too busy professionally to even think about moving her until August. So now there's this great pressure to get the financing in place, done, get the insurance in place, gotta do, plan the trip down the bay and up the river, learn all the systems, pack, find someone to help me crew. Pretty overwhelming.
Then on top of all that, yesterday morning the hard disk on my work computer died and I spent all day getting that squared away so I'm way behind the power curve at work. By 1900 last night I was spent and Eva drug me away from the computer telling me, it'll all work out, relax, if we don't get all the way home, it'll be OK.
Eva will stay home on this one. We have four dogs that must be attended to daily and there's simply no way for us both to go. I found someone to crew on Sunday when one of the guys I sing in the choir with said his brother might be interested. That's looking good. She went shopping this morning and picked up food and drink. I still need a good set of charts - and batteries for my GPS, and dig out my old nav instruments - parallel rules, compass, - jeez hope that stuff is like riding a bike!
Actually, I'm not worried about the navigation. I loved that at Navy, used a map and compass in the Marines and have been geocaching for years. I can do this. I'm not really worried about the sailing either - that really is like riding a bike. I'm just worried about the lack of boat familiarity - but I'll have three days and the whole dang Chesapeake Bay to figure it out!
Whahoo!!!
2010/06/29
2010/06/26
Notes from the Galley
Since the galley will probably be my domain for the most part, thought I would chime in about this whole boat buying experience. I am very excited about the prospect of having a place to relax and visit different places. Not as seasoned a sailor as my husband by a long shot, this is still a great adventure we are beginning.
Not having sailed in anything really until I met Andy back in 1974, my first real experience was when he bare-boat chartered a 32 1/2 ft Irwin in the British Virgin Islands for our honeymoon. I was very surprised to realize that I was going to be living a week of my life on a slant as the only boats I had ever been on before were power boats for fishing. Boy was I surprised. After I got over the feeling that we were going to tip over at any moment, I found that I enjoyed the sound of the wind in the sails far more than the slap of a boat bottom on the top of the water when going at speed. Andy has been a good and patient teacher and I still have an idea of how this whole thing should work and even after over 35 years, I can still recall what most everything is called and how it is suppose to work. As long as I have something to make coffee in the morning (I'm half Norwegian so there has to be coffee) and a place for beer to be kept cold, I'm OK with just about anything else. Oh, yeah, and a place for at least one of our dogs.
Should be fun. I'll help keep you up to date on our progress.
Actually this is from Eva, although I posted under Andy's name.
Not having sailed in anything really until I met Andy back in 1974, my first real experience was when he bare-boat chartered a 32 1/2 ft Irwin in the British Virgin Islands for our honeymoon. I was very surprised to realize that I was going to be living a week of my life on a slant as the only boats I had ever been on before were power boats for fishing. Boy was I surprised. After I got over the feeling that we were going to tip over at any moment, I found that I enjoyed the sound of the wind in the sails far more than the slap of a boat bottom on the top of the water when going at speed. Andy has been a good and patient teacher and I still have an idea of how this whole thing should work and even after over 35 years, I can still recall what most everything is called and how it is suppose to work. As long as I have something to make coffee in the morning (I'm half Norwegian so there has to be coffee) and a place for beer to be kept cold, I'm OK with just about anything else. Oh, yeah, and a place for at least one of our dogs.
Should be fun. I'll help keep you up to date on our progress.
Actually this is from Eva, although I posted under Andy's name.
2010/06/24
Sea Trails
It's a three hour drive from where I live to Rock Hall, MD where VIBRANT lay for the surveyors inspection. The route I traveled took me past the Rowe Blvd exit off of Route 50 in Annapolis. It was exactly the same route my dad drove with me and the family over 42 years ago to drop me at the Naval Academy. The feelings I experienced that day, excitement, fear of the unknown, uncertainty about my ability to measure up, elation mixed with fear at the thought of leaving my family, all came flooding back as I drove past that exit. And then it struck me that just like 42 years ago, this route was the route to a new phase in my life. How fitting and satisfying. Admittedly the emotions I was experiencing today were not nearly as intense or electric, but there was still an element of excitement and fear. The excitement of unpacking that dream, the fear of doing so in a period of financial uncertainty. But the clock is ticking...
In Rock Hall the broker, surveyor and I met at VIBRANT. She lay at Haven Harbor. The broker handled the boat and I played puppy dog to the surveyor as we got underway. The surveyor used a handheld recorder to make his notes as he poked and prodded through all the lockers, flipped switches, conducted radio checks, and opened and closed valves.
When he got to the engine compartment and opened it up his eyes lit up. "An Atomic 4! I used to own a business that rebuilt these engines." The little four banger chugged along as he spoke and he was satisfied from the sound of the engine that she was sound. So was I. "Do you hear the valve noise?" he asked. When I nodded he told me not to worry about timing the valves that they sounded fine.
When we went topside to shake out the sails for a visual inspection I made like a good deckhand and removed the mainsail cover and rigged the jackstays. I chuckled to myself as I hauled the jackstays up because not three weeks earlier this extra line on the main had completely baffled me - I'd never seen one. Now I handled it like I'd been using one for years. The surveyor hanked on the main halyard and when he was ready I hauled on the halyard from the cockpit where all the halyards and sheets were led for single handing. I got about two yanks on the halyard and then she fouled on something. We all peered up at the mainsail head and, oops, the surveyor had secured the halyard in a way that it fouled on a shroud almost immediately. I kept a very straight face as we lowered the sail, unfouled the halyard, and reset the sail, this time without incident. Then it was time to unfurl the roller furling jenny.
This turned into a major chore because the swivel at the top of the sail fouled on the spinnaker halyard. After a lot of pulling, shaking, squinting, mumbling and other incantations we finally freed the swivel and the jenny blossomed just as it had been designed to do. Gorgeous! Then it was time to furl the jenny and since I was at the controls so to speak I hauled on the swivel outhaul (I guess that's what it's called) and the sail furled like a dream. Holy mackeral! I thought of the hundreds of times I had set and doused a jenny of that size and all the work entailed - usually two crew required - one to ensure the sail didn't go in the drink and the other to man the halyard - and I just did it all from the safety of the cockpit. WOW!
Next came a check of the Garmin naviplotter - another piece of gear that didn't exist when I last sailed. The surveyor poked some buttons and squinted at the screen and called out, "We should just be coming abreast of channel marker # 6." To which the broker and I both responded immediately, "There she is!" That simple exchange struck a thrill in my heart. One of the things I loved about boats at the academy was the thrill of the navigation. Finding something exactly at the time and place you expected in unfamiliar water always elicited a little thrill of satisfaction for me. I felt that thrill of discovery once again. Oh yeah...oh yeah...
Then we were on our way in and the surveyor broke out his mallet and moisture meter, banging the deck looking for weak spots - I had done the same thing as I padded around in my bear feet, feeling for spongy spots and finding none. After appropriate banging and random moisture checks he declared the deck sound and made the comment that the deck was probably almost as dry as when it had come out of the factory. Big check mark in the plus column in my mind. Right up there with a sound hull, no mast compression, and a good engine.
So the survey is complete and we await the surveyor's report before making a final decision. After a three hour drive home I didn't feel any excitement at all - just exhaustion after six hours on the road and all the tension and excitement of the trial itself.
Today...today I'm excited and can't wait for the report!
In Rock Hall the broker, surveyor and I met at VIBRANT. She lay at Haven Harbor. The broker handled the boat and I played puppy dog to the surveyor as we got underway. The surveyor used a handheld recorder to make his notes as he poked and prodded through all the lockers, flipped switches, conducted radio checks, and opened and closed valves.
When he got to the engine compartment and opened it up his eyes lit up. "An Atomic 4! I used to own a business that rebuilt these engines." The little four banger chugged along as he spoke and he was satisfied from the sound of the engine that she was sound. So was I. "Do you hear the valve noise?" he asked. When I nodded he told me not to worry about timing the valves that they sounded fine.
When we went topside to shake out the sails for a visual inspection I made like a good deckhand and removed the mainsail cover and rigged the jackstays. I chuckled to myself as I hauled the jackstays up because not three weeks earlier this extra line on the main had completely baffled me - I'd never seen one. Now I handled it like I'd been using one for years. The surveyor hanked on the main halyard and when he was ready I hauled on the halyard from the cockpit where all the halyards and sheets were led for single handing. I got about two yanks on the halyard and then she fouled on something. We all peered up at the mainsail head and, oops, the surveyor had secured the halyard in a way that it fouled on a shroud almost immediately. I kept a very straight face as we lowered the sail, unfouled the halyard, and reset the sail, this time without incident. Then it was time to unfurl the roller furling jenny.
This turned into a major chore because the swivel at the top of the sail fouled on the spinnaker halyard. After a lot of pulling, shaking, squinting, mumbling and other incantations we finally freed the swivel and the jenny blossomed just as it had been designed to do. Gorgeous! Then it was time to furl the jenny and since I was at the controls so to speak I hauled on the swivel outhaul (I guess that's what it's called) and the sail furled like a dream. Holy mackeral! I thought of the hundreds of times I had set and doused a jenny of that size and all the work entailed - usually two crew required - one to ensure the sail didn't go in the drink and the other to man the halyard - and I just did it all from the safety of the cockpit. WOW!
Next came a check of the Garmin naviplotter - another piece of gear that didn't exist when I last sailed. The surveyor poked some buttons and squinted at the screen and called out, "We should just be coming abreast of channel marker # 6." To which the broker and I both responded immediately, "There she is!" That simple exchange struck a thrill in my heart. One of the things I loved about boats at the academy was the thrill of the navigation. Finding something exactly at the time and place you expected in unfamiliar water always elicited a little thrill of satisfaction for me. I felt that thrill of discovery once again. Oh yeah...oh yeah...
Then we were on our way in and the surveyor broke out his mallet and moisture meter, banging the deck looking for weak spots - I had done the same thing as I padded around in my bear feet, feeling for spongy spots and finding none. After appropriate banging and random moisture checks he declared the deck sound and made the comment that the deck was probably almost as dry as when it had come out of the factory. Big check mark in the plus column in my mind. Right up there with a sound hull, no mast compression, and a good engine.
So the survey is complete and we await the surveyor's report before making a final decision. After a three hour drive home I didn't feel any excitement at all - just exhaustion after six hours on the road and all the tension and excitement of the trial itself.
Today...today I'm excited and can't wait for the report!
2010/06/22
Sea Trials Tomorrow
As Eva and I unpack this old dream I hope to capture some of the ups and downs that go with dusting off what was once a vivid dream. Welcome aboard.
A dream is born, briefly nurtured, and stored away
Many more years ago than I care to admit, I learned to sail at a small trade school in Annapolis, MD. The school sits on the Severn River near it's confluence with the Chesapeake Bay. There I learned the pointy end from the square end, bights and bowlines, starboard tack and red, right, returning aboard a 44' Luders Yawl. There a deep and abiding love of the ocean was born. After graduation I taught sailing and raced 19' Lightning's and my new bride and I bare boat chartered a 32' Irwin center-cockpit yawl for our honeymoon. (That week will someday be the subject of another blog entry). 
No complaints, then or now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)