Showing posts with label Buying Boat Stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Buying Boat Stuff. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Port Lights!
By Michael


My mom and a port
While in California last month visiting all of our SoCal relatives, we got to see for the first time the seven new stainless steel port lights we ordered at the boat show last October. I asked the vendor, New Found Metals, to send them directly to my parent’s house. The plan is to pick them up from there on our road trip to Mexico, one less thing to schlep across the country.
Wow, are they beautiful—and heavy like cast iron. Three of the ten 1978-vintage ports on the boat are opening, but the rest are fixed, plastic, show evidence of leaking, and are no longer clear. I can’t stand the thought of removing and re-bedding the old port lights and we are eager for the additional ventilation these will offer.
Wow, are they expensive. But because they are an odd size (3x17), I was glad NFM stocks them as standard. But still, and even at boat show prices, the seven gorgeous port lights, screens, teak spacers, ss fasteners, countersink, and butyl cost more than two boat bucks. Putting aside the tangible benefits of ventilation and strength—and even putting aside the intangible benefits of aesthetic improvements and anticipated reduced maintenance—I justified the cost on the basis that we will get it back someday in higher resale value…no, stop laughing…c’mon…stop laughing...
--MR

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Boat Cards!
By Michael


Two big steps this week: boat cards and a mailing address.

Hoping to get carded
I didn't get the whole boat card thing before we left on our first trip. We had cards on board the first Del Viento only because someone gave them to us as a goodbye gift (thank you Larry). We were soon glad we had them. Cruising is a very socially transient lifestyle. Boat cards were a way for us to remember the folks we ran into. I can thumb through our collection from 15 years ago and recall people and events I may have well forgotten.
Rather than a photo on our cards this time, I commisioned a nautical artist in Washington state to sketch our boat. I heard  about Jeff Orlando from a post by Andiamo III, about how he drew the picture of their boat on their cards. When I got to Jeff's site, I liked his gallery of drawings and boat cards he's done for others. Using just a few pictures of our boat and a description of the scene I wanted, he did an outstanding job. He was generous with his time and just a nice guy.

Of course, before we could get our cards, we needed a mailing address to put on them. We ended up using St.Brendan's Isle. While I like the folksy, mom-and-pop quality of their competitor, Voyagers Mail Forwarding Service, SBI's reputation is stellar and they offer a mail scanning service that may alleviate the need for most physical mail forwarding. Though, given that all of our banking and billing has been paperless and online for years, we don't get a lot of mail that will have to be forwarded. But they also offer a service whereby they will acquire a boat part for you at their discounted rate and ship it out right away.
In either case, it is going to cost us about a quarter-boat-buck per year, and both companies will take care of renewing our USCG documentation each year (why isn't that online yet?!). We considered asking family to handle our mail, but the knowledge these cruiser-oriented companies have in getting shipments to far flung places in the least time, with the least hassle, and at the least expense, is worth the expense, I hope. I've heard countless stories of cruisers waiting months for a package, never getting a package, extorted by customs officials, or all of the above.

It's pretty exciting to have a new address (though Florida doesn't feel like us, neither of us has any association with the place--and I meant to put our boat's Washington, D.C. hailing port on the cards and forgot). It is one more bit of tangible evidence that this huge thing is actually coming to pass.

--MR

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Go Small (sort of), Go Now (5-year plan)
By Michael

When I planned my first trip aboard the Newport 27 Del Viento, I knew I needed crew aboard to manage that tender vessel. The Autohelm 1000 tiller pilot was not reliable. Even when working, it was often not quick enough to overcome the intrinsic weatherhelm of the Newport. Long days at the helm, and especially overnighters, wouldn't be practical. Yet, while doing my due diligence to find crew, a part of me retained hope that I wouldn't be successful, clinging to the romantic notion that I'd be forced to sail off alone, to join the fraternity of singlehanders.

Alas, I found my crew in the 11th hour and we sailed off together December 7, 1996. Less than three years later, we married. And now, 14 years later, we are on the verge of heading out again, with two little crew.

I no longer retain any desire to singlehand. Every future trip I imagine involves at least Windy. Yet, what a part of me now pines for is what we left behind when we sold the first Del Viento: minimalism. As we plan and outfit the Fuji 40 Del Viento, I miss the cruising aesthetics of the minimalists, the cruisers out there today on relatively small vessels making do with just what they need. This is a subset of the cruising community who are living the life purely, not cluttered by the trappings of a land-based life that turn the average cruising boat into something Slocum would not recognize.
The tub in the "spectacular master stateroom" of the Hunter 50
http://huntermarine.com/Models/50CC/50CCIndex.html

Minimalist cruisers eschew these things not because they are traditionalists or luddites: Lin and Larry Pardey don't have an engine aboard, but carry a GPS and use a solar panel; James Baldwin has never carried an EPIRB, but sings the praises of AIS. No, these successful cruisers are just plain practical. None has (or at least did not start out with) the resources to fill their boat with every boat show gadget and electronic device billed as a necessary safety item or comfort imperative. Accordingly, they launched their journeys afloat with the bare minimum aboard and allowed--paraphrasing Robin Lee Graham--the sea to teach them not how much they needed, but how little.
Over time every voyager comes to understand exactly what they need aboard. What is necessary for some seems superfluous to others. The distinction between the minimalist cruiser and the rest of us is how they determine what gear or system earns a place aboard.

Space, power consumption, and failure criticality are overriding considerations for every cruiser deciding what to bring or install aboard. Every purchase decision, for every cruiser--minimalist or not--means weighing these factors in a risk-benefit calculation. While nobody [in their right mind] questions the value of a cold beer or hot shower, that value is relative. A minimalist cruiser is likely to argue that refrigeration is a power-hungry system prone to failure, that a water heater adds undue complexity and risk of leaking a precious commodity, that neither earns a place aboard. Another cruiser may decide that either or both systems deliver a benefit that offsets the risk of failure and risk of being stranded in an undesirable location waiting for parts...and then sending them back for the correct parts.

In the same way that the overall size of a boat increases geometrically as the length increases linearly, the cost--measured in risk--of hosting systems aboard a boat increases geometrically with each system added. The hot water heater requires additional water lines, additional electrical generation capacity, a larger battery bank to store that power, and a pump/pressure tank to make a shower worthwhile. Of course, all of that means a bigger boat to hold it all. All of that means a likely increase in water consumption and stokes the need for a watermaker, which of course begets more of all the same. And how often then will you run the axillary for the sake of warming up that heat exchanger or generating power, thereby putting undue wear and tear on that system?

Of course, nothing is wrong with any of this. Even minimalists express contrary opinions about what belongs aboard their particular vessel. The danger lies for the cruiser who is not aware, or does not acknowledge this calculus.

The cruising minimalists I've read are the ones who endure, the ones for whom cruising is not just a phase or experience, but a life. Accordingly, they have earned our attention and consideration. As we prepare to head out there again, and with a relative paucity of experience, we plan to take a lesson from the minimalists--and from our former selves: to deliberately assess everything we bring or install aboard. Is it worth it? Are we prepared for its failure? Might we be happier without it? I aim to be able to present a very compelling, reasoned defense of every single piece of gear aboard our ship--and why we use it the way we do.

While my minimalist heroes have a lot to offer in terms of perspective, none are sailing and living with small crew aboard. (Yes, Fatty and Carolyn Goodlander raised Roma Orion aboard as minimalists. Yes, Dave and Jaja Martin sailed with two children aboard 25-foot Direction and with three children aboard 36-foot Driver, in relatively minimalist fashion. Yet neither the Goodlanders nor Martins transitioned as families from a land-based lifestyle to the cruising lifestyle.) We will have our own unique considerations.

If our girls are eager to end "this stupid boat trip" after a couple years, it will be over. We will not be successful afloat unless everyone is aboard (pun intended). Rationally, I suspect we will all look back ten years from now at my characterization above and laugh. But we will hedge our bets by cruising aboard a boat that is comfortable, homey, and kid-friendly. Beyond the obvious consideration we're giving to the increased energy and physical space demands of four people (so much for "go small, go now"), we are keenly interested in helping the girls to embrace and identify with the cruising life. Like at home today, I imagine kid art adorning the bulkheads. Like at home today, there will be no TV, but movies will play on the laptop and books-on-tape will boom from cabin speakers. Like at home today, cold milk for cereal will be at the ready each morning. Like at home today, hot water will be available for bathing before bedtime, when necessary. Like at home, Eleanor and Frances will share a cabin, but be afforded individual bunks and private space for their stuff.

Granted, this lifestyle will be radically different; that's why we're going. And we are not trying to reproduce aboard all of the creature comforts of home--we can't and we don't want to. There will be a lot of changes to which they'll have to adapt, changes that are significant and inherent to the lifestyle. But we aren't going minimalist, we just aren't. We are in a different class, as separate from the childless minimalists as the cruising couple is from the singlehander.

Like in all areas of life, about the best we Robertsons can do is to benefit from the experience of those we are following. At this point that means--as best we can--eschewing the hyper-consumerist mindset common to the preparing-to-cast-off cruiser. We've both pledged to see first what we can get by without, so long as we don't compromise our notion of what we need to ensure the safety of our girls (and so long as it means we can bring an iPad).

If Atom ever finds herself floundering offshore, James Baldwin can admirably walk his talk, testing for the first time the water-tight bulkheads he's prudently engineered on his 47-year-old Pearson Triton. In that instance, he won't have an EPIRB with which to hail assistance. But he will have enjoyed weeks of freedom afforded by the savings realized by not purchasing an EPIRB. He will be comforted by the fact that he is truly self-sufficient as he effects repairs and gets back under way. He may indeed be better off. Of course, he isn't planning to manage that situation while also managing the safety and well-being of two children. Accordingly, his reasons for going without an EPIRB are not relevant to us as we prepare to head off with our children aboard, and an EPIRB for each.

--MR

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

West Marine v. Defender


"Thank you Auntie Julie and the Ryans!"

At the U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis this year, we were on a mission: we were there to buy, we knew what we wanted, and we were price sensitive. On the first day, we walked back and forth between the West Marine and Defender booths, our lists in hand, taking notes and taking pictures of price tags with our iPhones. That night, we reviewed all of the data and surprisingly, neither retailer emerged as the clear winner. West Marine beat Defender in some cases, and vice versa. I was surprised because I expected Defender to undercut West Marine with few exceptions.
Before casting off on my first voyage in the mid-1990s, I lived two-and-a-half miles from the Ventura, CA West Marine store. During the three years I worked to ready the boat, I drove back-and-forth to that West Marine hundreds of times. I heard often from friends on the dock that Defender’s catalog prices were much lower than West Marine's prices, and they were. For the larger purchases that my big-boat dock mates made, I'm sure Defender made sense. But this was the pre-Internet era and Defender was strictly a mail-order operation. For the smaller, frequent purchases I made over that time period, the cost of shipping and the receipt and return hassle didn’t make Defender a better value to me.

Of course, over the past 18 years the marine retail landscape has changed. With Internet sales common, free or discounted shipping the norm, and sales tax the exception, the West Marine store’s brick-and-mortar value is diminished—especially given their recent dilution of their once legendary return policy. Young folks today never use the words "mail order" and Defender is now an online retailer--and so is West Marine.
Windy is planning a Mexico trip to the boat now, for the first week of December. She’ll take a bunch of measurements while there. When she returns, we’ll be able to finalize a list of the remaining items we need to purchase and bring south with us. I’ve already begun scoping out retailers for some of the purchases we have yet to make. I know now that it will not be just a West Marine v. Defender battle. At home, and now that the 'boat show specials' are over, there are hundreds of online retailers, including Amazon, competing in the marine retail area. Some are specialized (www.riggingonly.com) and others compete more broadly--all of them are eager for our business.

--MR

Friday, October 15, 2010

We Left All Our Money at the 2010 Annapolis Sailboat Show


I’m surprised Jimmy Buffet hasn’t yet written a song called, “I Left All My Money at the Boat Show.”
As I wrote in another post: One of the responses we heard from a few people when they heard we were going to the boat show this year was, "But you already have a boat; why are you going this year?" Not only did we go this year, we went three days in a row (and in that time, we went aboard only a few boats).
Our main focus this year was acquiring the expensive gear we know we'll need, at boat-show-discounted prices. As you would expect at the largest in-the-water sailboat show in North America (the world?), more than just boats are on display. There are several large circus tents filled with vendors and exhibitors. Outside of these, there are vendors and exhibitors under smaller tents around the show grounds, and there are vendors and exibitors in open-air booths outside, everywhere. Literally hundreds of booths. I estimate that 75% of them are merchants with marine stuff to sell and 25% are manufacturers there just to offer information. For example, we purchased Standard Horizon radios from a vendor at the show after talking to the manufacturer in another booth. Same with our ACR EPIRB. I learned a ton of valuable info about our particular Yanmar diesel auxillary from talking to the guys at the Mack Boring booth. Same from talking to the PSS shaft seal folks. Same from talking to the Lofrans windless folks.
Our secondary focus was getting the girls on and around boats. On this front, we were able to get them rides in an 8-foot sailing dinghy, sponsored by a local sailing school. Then, after talking for a bit with the U.S. importer of the Torqeedo electric outboard we are considering buying one day, she tossed me the keys and the four of us jumped in an 11-foot inflatable to demo the thing (very nice motor, eerily quiet). Finally, we took the girls aboard a few boats just to further orient them and to hear their impressions.

Accordingly, we prepared for this show, our last show before heading out. We did our homework reviewing our vessel survey and my notes from the pre-purchase trip to Mexico. We created a laundry list of things we needed. We combed the Internet and Practical Sailor back issues to determine the exact makes/models we wanted.
  • Day One: We visited just about every booth that interested us, grabbing brochures, talking to people, taking notes, and taking pictures of price tags. It was a full day, but we did manage to enjoy a couple Pusser’s Pain Killers.
  • Day Two: We brought the girls. We made sure they went aboard a few boats, got rides in sailing dinghies, and got a ride in a regular dinghy—before they melted down in the heat. We left early and did not drink enough Pusser’s Pain Killers.
  • Day Three: Alone again, we arrived early to see Lee Chesneau’s seminar on marine weather forecasting (Windy loved it and plans to sign up for his marine meteorology seminar). After this, we stormed the show, armed with the information we gathered Day 1 and our knowledge from two nights of study, ensuring that every dollar we spent was spent on the right gear at the best possible price. We left all of our money at the show and did not drink enough Pusser’s Pain Killers.
What did we buy? Following is the list of our 2010 boat show purchases (gads!):
  • Auto-inflating life vest with integrated harness (Revere ComfortMax x2)
  • Auto-loading bit driver (Autoloader x2)
  • Boat knife (West Marine)
  • Boat knives (Wichard x2)
  • Boom brake (Winchard Gyb’Easy)
  • Deck key (Davis)
  • Ditch Bag (ACR)
  • Double lifeline tethers (Wichard x2)
  • Electronic LED candle (SmartCandle)
  • Emergency locator lights (Revere SeeMe x2)
  • Emergency strobe (ACR)
  • EPIRB with GPS (ACR GlobalFix 406 Cat 2)
  • Flare container (Pains Wessex)
  • Fixed-mount GPS (Standard Horizon CP-180)
  • Fixed-mount VHF (Standard Horizon Matrix 2100 with AIS)
  • Foam hull plug (Forespar TruPlug)
  • Handheld GPS (Garmin 76CS)
  • Handheld VHF (Standard Horizon HX751)
  • Headlamps (no-name cheapos x2)
  • Masthead tri-color with anchor light (Signal Mate 2NM LED Tri-Color w/ Anchor Light)
  • Men’s foul weather bib (Henri Lloyd TP1)
  • Men’s foul weather Jacket (Henri Lloyd TP1)
  • Opening stainless steel portlights (New Found Metals 3"x17" x7)
  • Ratcheting wire crimpers (Cruising Solutions)
  • Sailing gloves for Windy (Gill)
  • Sewing awl (Sailrite Speedy Stitcher)
  • Signal horn (West Marine)
  • Silicone repair tape (Rescue Tape! x2)
  • Stereo system (Fusion RA-200 with IPOD Dock and 2 speakers)
  • Two chart tubes (Weems & Plath)
  • Vinyl boat lettering (Del Viento 8" x2 and Washington, DC 4")
  • Water-tight plastic “wallets” with lanyard (Davis x3)
Damage? About 5 Boat Bucks. Ouch, but all of it anticipated.

--MR

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Getting Ready for the Big Life Change

This week we sent picture cards to friends, family, and acquaintances. This picture card is a formal announcement of the new 25,000-pound member of our family sitting in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
While we’ve talked about our "big life change" plans with many over the past 5 years, we’ve largely kept it behind the scenes and many are unaware. (Even people to whom we mentioned it early on, have forgotten, or doubted us!)
We are eager to keep in touch with the people who have been a part of our lives as dirt dwellers: friends, distant relatives, family, neighbors, and passersby. Hopefully this blog will help us to do that, to some extent, no matter where we are in the world.
So, you've found our blog, book mark it! Come with us, virtually. Totally upending our lives and doing something that is contrary to all conventional wisdom (and totally insane from a financial best interests standpoint) ain't easy, but it is surely going to make for good tales. You will find them here.
Of course, before the craziness can begin, we have a lot to do over the next many months. It seems as though nearly every aspect of our lives is geared towards getting ready. Time is flying by. Over the past few of weeks: 
·         We met with and hired our real estate agent for next spring’s sale.
·         We had a consultation with a designer recommended by our agent. (Life lesson: do this before spending 10 years in a home, not months before you move.)
·         I am organizing and moving digital media (pictures, videos, documents) to online storage so that we can sell our desktop computer/monitor and buy a second laptop.
·         I am learning everything I can about our Yanmar 4JH-TE motor so that I know what spares to buy and bring. (Just purchased a $42 impeller!)
·         Windy is getting ready for her December trip to Puerto Vallarta to check on the boat and take a million more measurements and pictures.
·         We are both making lists and otherwise planning for the 3 consecutive days we will spend at the U.S. Sailboat Show in Annapolis this week. (Most common question from sailing neophytes: “Why are you going to the boat show if you already bought a boat?”)
·         I am prioritizing all of my house-prep work to those things that need to be done before we paint, so that we can paint sooner and enjoy the new paint for longer.
·         I installed new struts and springs on the back of the car last week, in preparation for the trailer and extra load we will carry on our big road trip to the boat after the house sells (will do the front soon).
·         Windy is digitizing all of our contacts (she is eager to toss the well-worn physical address book, we compromised that she will keep it in a drawer for 3 months to see how her new system works out).
·         Windy is sorting through the dozens hundreds of kid books to eliminate what is no longer age-appropriate.
·         I bought several heavy-duty, watertight, ice-chest-sized plastic containers into which we are beginning to put those things that will be going to the boat, and that we will not need until we get on the boat (boat show purchases, spare parts, winter clothes after winter, etc).
·         We sold our massive computer armoire and put in place a small corner table for the office.
·         Windy is working on a categorized, master list of things to do and buy (A=essentials, B=important, C=future project).
·         I cleared out and re-seeded the front and back lawns last week so that when the house is on the market in the spring, it will have the nicest lawn for miles.
It feels good to be organizing and lightening our load, less stuff. But at the same time, we are in consumer mode too, generating a long list of purchases necessary to transition to the new life—this in spite of our joint resolve to not get caught up in the frenzy of marketing to boat owners that demands we spend every penny we have to ensure we bring the comforts of land life aboard and that we are insulated from every calamity, however unlikely.
Life changes this big require lots of getting ready. It's a process we've been involved in for the past 5 years, but which is now accelerating.
--MR

Monday, June 21, 2010

How We Came to Buy a Fuji 40


Hey!

My picture is in this month's Cruising World! This is the picture taken at last year's Annapolis Sailboat Show where I served as a Cruising World consumer judge; I'm the guy on the far right. This article describes the circumstances: http://www.cruisingworld.com/boats-and-gear/boat-reviews-and-previews/secret-shoppers-hit-the-show-1000080738.html
I've attended the Annapolis show each of the past 9 years, since moving to the East Coast. Being the CW consumer judge made the 2009 show a bit special, but it’s for another reason that it was better than any previous. First, I was there two days, and both days I was on my own. I missed Windy’s company, but in this way, I was able to zip around and make the most of my time. And I used that time to answer a question that had been lingering for Windy and me for most of the previous year:

Do we really need a “blue water” boat, built like the proverbial brick s**thouse? What is a blue water boat?
There are a lot of boats out cruising today, all shapes and sizes. It’s a given that some of them are full-keeled Colin Archer designs with integrated keels full of ballast and hulls two inches thick. Blue water boats, right? But this description does not fit most of the boats out there today. One look at the roster of any of today’s big cruising rallies (the ARC, the Baja Ha-Ha) and it is clear that Hans Christians, Westsails, Island Packets, and Ingrids are not well represented. Many take it for granted that "performance cruisers" are considered suitable blue water boats, and there is a good representation of boats like those built by Passport and Valiant and Taswell. But I don’t think either of these classes of boat comprise the plurality of boats out there cruising. Predominant among cruisers today are the mass-produced boats traditionally assumed to be racer-coastal cruisers (Hunters, Catalinas, J/Boats, Beneteaus, Jeaneaus). (Anecdotally, of the 99 monohulls currently signed up for the 2010 Baja Ha-Ha rally, 42 are production racer-coastal cruisers.)

One of Windy’s most significant impressions of our first cruising adventure is tropical storm Andres. Andres was the first named storm of 1997. During what became an 8-day passage from Isla Providencia, Columbia to Maria La Gorda, Cuba, we got hit by the brunt of it. During the worst of it, a 30-hour stretch, Windy remained below. During that blow, my knowledge and skills at the helm grew along with the strength of the storm. In short time, I was beyond the point of safely transferring the helm to Windy. Her primary focus was navigating us safely into the refuge of the bay at the Western-most tip of the island. My only focus was guiding us over the next wave.

Windy said afterward that the most difficult part of her time below was the noise of the ocean pounding on the hull. The crashing. The amplified sound had her questioning the integrity of the hull. Del Viento was a Newport 27 production racer-coastal cruiser, much like the venerable Catalina 27. Her skin wasn’t flimsy, but neither was she stout.

Windy peering through companionway during tropical storm Andres
Windy during tropical storm Andres, 1997
www.sailboat-cruising-with-kids.com
I wasn’t below, but I could relate to her distress. When I was a kid, we spent many summers waterskiing behind a 15-foot ski boat my dad bought in 1959. It had a fiberglass hull and I remember pounding through the chop on the lake at 20 knots, crashing down and certain each time we were hitting rocks on the bottom. Over and over my dad assured me that we were not, that it was just the sound of the water.
When we finally sold Del Viento in Ft. Lauderdale, Windy and I knew we wanted to get back out there. We were resolved to do it next time in a stout boat, a heavy, full-displacement cruising boat. We wanted to feel that come hell or high waves, none of us would be down below questioning the integrity of the hull.

That is pretty much where we were at the start of our 5-year plan to get back out there, launched 4 years ago. But times have changed. Weather forecasting is better and forecasts can be more easily obtained given the advancements in communications technologies. Many argue that it is better to plan your weather windows and be in a boat fast enough to narrow those windows, than to be in a relatively slow boat built for punishment.

As the economy nosedived in 2008, the added expense of a bulletproof blue water boat began to seem more significant. At the same time, sailing magazines abounded with stories of cruisers out there circling the globe on relatively light displacement production boats. Catalina’s booth at the sailboat show seemed to feature the words “blue water” on every sign, even displaying their “Hall of Fame:” profiles of sailors who have made significant passages or circumnavigations aboard Catalinas. The lure of the price of a used production boat became a siren.

The cost is nearly 50% less. Not only because the supposed quality is lower, but because the designs of these boats, many tailored to the charter trade, offered comparatively more space down below. Beamy to begin with, this beam extended further and further aft, beginning in the early nineties. Therefore, while a 36-foot Catalina would easily serve the cabin space needs of our family of four, a 38-foot Hans Christian would not make the cut.

By the time of the 2009 show, we were nearly resolved to buying a production racer-coastal cruiser, a bigger version of what we’d been out on before. Nearly resolved. Questions still lingered and I was determined to get answers from sources I trusted.

  • Liza Copeland and her family of 5 completed a multi-year circumnavigation aboard their 38-foot Beneteau, Bagheera. She’s written a few books about cruising with a family and each year she is there at the show, in the Beneteau booth. I asked her directly: “Is it less safe to go cruising in a production boat, such as the Beneteau, than in a comparatively more stout boat of a heavier displacement?” She was clear: absolutely not (not surprising, standing there in the Beneteau booth). She cited the speed factor as a safety imperative. She cited the ability to better predict weather windows. She cited the improvements in design and construction that obviated the need for heavy displacement, doubting the notion that a production boat (such as the Beneteau) is not physically prepared to take on the ocean.


  • George Day is the publisher of Blue Water Sailing magazine. In the 1980s, he and his family completed a circumnavigation aboard a Mason 43, a boat that probably straddles the line between the heaviest blue water boats and the performance cruising boats. It is stout and well-built. The Mason 43 was for a long time at the top of our list of boats we considered (see this post: http://www.sailboat-cruising-with-kids.com/2008/08/boat.html). He was gracious with his time and he and I chatted for about 20 minutes. His perspective was surprising. I acknowledged his circumnavigation and related our concerns about whether the cost of a stout boat like the Mason is money well spent. I asked him whether he would consider taking his family around the world again on a production racer-coastal cruiser. He said yes. He said that nearly all of the sailing he has done since his family sold Clover, crossing oceans and pounding in rough weather, was aboard light displacement boats. He emphasized that the most important factor is not the boat, but the sailor. He noted that any boat could be pushed too hard. But if you watch your weather windows and know not to push the boat past its limit when you do get stuck in the bad stuff, you will be fine. He said seamanship, up to a point, is more important than over-built construction.


  •  Steven Callahan and Alvah Simon are sailing luminaries. I got to hang out with them at an after-show reception Cruising World hosted for we consumer judges of the Boat of the Year contest (it was cool). Steven was single handing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean when he estimates a whale struck his boat. It sank in minutes and he spent the next 66 days in a life raft. He wrote a best selling book about the adventure, a sailing classic, called Adrift. Alvah Simon, along with his wife Diana Simon aboard their boat Roger Henry, rounded Cape Horn and froze themselves in the ice over a long dark winter up north of 60 degrees. About this second adventure, Alvah wrote an outstanding account called North to the Night. I asked both men the same question I asked George and Liza. Surprisingly, both echoed George Day’s opinion. Steven seemed a bit more emphatic in his response (surprising, given his ordeal), while Alvah agreed, but was a bit more reserved. But both were unequivocal: if money is a factor, you will not go wrong setting sail in a production boat—even for a circumnavigation—so long as you practice good seamanship.

I didn’t talk to Lin and Larry Pardee. I didn’t talk to Dave and Jaja Martin. I didn’t talk to Beth Leonard and Evans Stargazer. I’m confident I would get a different answer from them (though George Day and Steven Callahan surprised me!).
I came home to share my new info with Windy. I think that we both felt more comfortable with our new lot in <the cruising> life. We were resolute, we told ourselves…Catalina here we come!
Windy began expressing doubts weeks later, about her ability to really be comfortable on a production coastal cruiser. I countered that many of those built in the early 1980s are not as thin skinned as some we’ve seen lately. (She reminded me that the first Del Viento was built in 1980). I kept on, advancing argument after argument, until I too became unconvinced. No doubt we could make it across the pond and around the globe in a production racer-coastal cruiser, many do, many will. But for the sake of peace of mind, we are both more settled by the notion of a heavier boat. Too, what we give up in performance, we gain in sea kindliness (comfort).
But now we were in situation of wanting more boat than we could afford. The Mason 43 remained our ideal. She was stout as heck and she had a sweet aft cabin that provided space, privacy, and a distinct bunk for each of the girls. She was bigger than we liked, but we knew we would learn to manage her. She had enough space to host overnight guests for periods of time. The cheapest one we’d ever seen was offered at $99K, located in the BVIs, and needing lots of work. Practically, we were going to have to spend $139K for a Mason and then put $20K into it, minimum.
When we launched our 5-year plan in 2006, our house was worth more money than it is today. Our investments were worth more money. $160K was something we could manage. In 2010, things look a lot different. Our timeline is unchanged, but our budget is not. Our decision to go with a production racer-coastal cruiser had helped a lot. But now…?
Today, my old dock mates from Ventura, California live in Washington state, having just finished a cruise last year aboard their Fantasia 35. They were thinking of selling; they wrote as much in their Christmas letter. Windy and I talked a lot about the Fantasia. We read about the Fantasia. We looked at the dozens of pictures on Don’s and Jim’s website. We decided that Dreamweaver represented a good opportunity to maybe get a solid, no nonsense cruising boat that we know is in excellent shape and that we could purchase without a broker involved, cutting costs for the seller. We made a complicated offer to our friends whereby we would begin making small monthly payments towards a $70K purchase price of the boat and they would keep and maintain the boat through the end of the year (one last summer hurrah). Starting January 1, 2011, we would begin paying slip fees and the amount of our monthly payment towards the purchase price would begin progressively increasing each month. When we finally sold our house in 2011, we would pay off the remaining balance.
Don and Jim thought about our sincere offer, but they were not ready to commit to selling. We were disappointed, but prepared to wait, as they gave us right of first refusal for when/if they do decide to sell.

We kept looking at boats. We had to be flexible. We had to look at the market with fresh eyes. Before we discovered the Mason 43 layout, we were resigned to having the girls share a v-berth. That consideration brings into view a lot of other boats. And maybe we couldn’t discount the ketch as we had. We didn’t really want a center cockpit, but maybe we could get used to it. (The Fantasia is a center cockpit boat in which the girls would have had to share the v-berth.) Maybe there are boats for sale not listed on Yachtworld.com…
On eBay we found one of the most beautiful boats ever designed: a Lord Nelson 41 (sistership pictured). Bidding was at $32K, four days remaining. I did a lot of research in a short period of time. The boat was owned by a Southern California boat yard going bankrupt. They had taken the boat in exchange for bills unpaid and had epoxied and awlgripped the hull. Outside she was beautiful. Inside she…could be brought back to life. She needed her wood decks cared for (not cored!) and the galley floor was “spongy.” There was not a single piece of gear or electronics on board. I talked to the yard owner. I talked to a broker who had once listed the boat. I got a copy of a year-old survey. I talked to that surveyor. I read everything I could about the LN41. We put a bid in: $41K. She eventually sold for closer to $50K.
Several weeks later, I noticed a Fuji 40 in Puerto Vallarta: $79,900. The boat looked good, and she was competitively priced (lowest of the three for sale worldwide). I’d first seen a Fuji 40 online in 2006 when we first began looking. There was one in Ventura, listed at $110K. I loved the boat. It was a mini-version of the Mason 43, but with an aft cabin every bit as large, greater headroom, and no teak decks. Hmmm.

A couple months passed and I noticed a relatively large price reduction on the Puerto Vallarta Fuji: $71,900. She was now in our range. It was mid-March, 2010.
Windy and I talked and looked and learned. We read everything we could and talked to three Fuji 40 owners here in the U.S. We loved the boat and decided we had to ensure the listing remained open until we were really ready to buy, fall or winter of 2010. How do we do this? Beyond hoping, we didn’t have a plan. We asked ourselves if we would regret this boat being bought before we could buy her. We acknowledged that all of the previous near-misses had been for the best. But I’d been looking closely at the market for years, and I hadn’t seen a boat of this quality and layout at this price. We decided we would regret not buying this boat, assuming she was everything we thought. Neither of us had ever been aboard a Fuji 40.
Fuji 40 Dream Catcher in Puerto Vallata's Paradise Village Marina
Del Viento as Dream Catcher in Paradise Village Marina, PV, Mexico
www.vallartayachts.net
One of the benefits of buying a boat in Mexico is not paying sales tax. We considered this and considered the cost of a trip to look at her and the cost of maintaining a boat in Mexico for a year. We ran the numbers and made our best offer. The seller countered. We countered and reached an agreement: $64K including a dinghy and two outboards that had been excluded from the listing, and a spinnaker sail we didn’t know about.
Having been down there and having closed on this deal, Windy and I are convinced she is the right boat for us at the right price. We could have paid much less for a production racer-coastal cruiser, but we could have paid much more for a comparable (and in many ways inferior) “blue water” boat. Dream Catcher, as she is currently called, is the perfect boat for our family. And while our decision to buy a Fuji 40 may seem counter to the wisdom I gleaned at the 2009 Annapolis Sailboat Show, it is not. Rather, I took this away: any boat can be knowingly or unknowingly pushed too hard, and a stout boat is no insurance against poor seamanship. We’ll enjoy the relative comfort and peace of mind offered by the Fuji 40, but will not allow this comfort to induce complacency.
Spring 2011 cannot come soon enough.
--MR

Friday, June 18, 2010

A Joint Venture Aboard

Our next cruising life will be different than our first by orders of magnitude.
  • The first time we cast off in our 20s on a 27-foot boat, this time we leave in our 40s on a 40-foot boat.
  • The first time we were alone and our romantic relationship was just beginning, this time we have two kids and we are married.
  • The first time our cruising adventure was a trip limited to 7 months, this time cruising is a lifestyle with an open time horizon.
  • The first time Internet cafes did not exist, this time we will likely carry a satellite phone.
  • The first time we left with no income and very little money, this time we...oh, no change there.
For me, the biggest difference will be our joint relationship to the boat and the life. When I "hired" Windy as my crew on the first trip, I'd spent the previous four years living aboard and preparing the boat and myself for the adventure. When Windy joined me, she'd only previously been aboard Del Viento for a day sail and it was not her home. She was competent, but deferred to me for every decision, there was no question which of us was both the owner and captain.
This time, I am eager for the new dynamic. I am eager to experience this next phase of our lives as equally vested partners and decision makers. (We've already agreed that in the case of decision making, where there are differences in opinion, the most conservative decision will stand. This is to say that Windy will be the final arbiter for all decisions.)
While we will each in this new life gravitate towards our own areas of expertise when it comes to allocating the workload, it is important to both of us that neither of us be incapable of managing the boat single handed. This will be a big distinction from the first cruising life and will require a determined effort by Windy to reach her own level of comfort in this regard. What will make it easier, and pleasurable, is that I will be learning alongside her.
Our Dickenson solid fuel heater
Our Dickenson solid fuel heater
www.sailboat-cruising-with-kids.com
I have very limited experience sailing such a comparatively large vessel, and I have never been in command of a boat over 30 feet (the difference between 30 and 40 feet is not factored linearly, but geometrically--much like how a 4.0-magnitude earthquake may not be felt by many, yet a 7.0-magnitude quake is likely to devastate a city). She and I will step aboard the next Del Viento on near-equal footing, and for that I am grateful.
While our shared ownership interest in the boat is a legal fact, the other day Windy moved one step ahead in her emotional ownership. She bought the heater we will need aboard when we venture north. It is a Dickinson Newport solid fuel fireplace that she bought used and that we will leave with her folks in San Francisco and install aboard Del Viento when we are there.
$200 poorer, and another step closer to our new life.

--MR

Friday, May 7, 2010

Things To Buy

I like the idea of purging ourselves of so much stuff. We'll keep the few things we intend to use on the boat. We'll store some sentimental things: art, photo albums, the chest and the tiny rocking chair. Non-essentials will vanish in two massive yard sales -- one before we sell the house, and one after. We'll move away from the weeds. Our boat (our lives!) will be be spare, sparkling clean, and hyper-organized. I already feel lighter just thinking about it.

But the other day I was browsing the West Marine catalog and I had a horrifying revelation: We need more stuff! We need boat stuff, and lots of it (minimum $200 regardless of what it is). Additionally, I need, must have, this coffee-press. It's compact, multi-functional, and -- best of all -- 100% stainless steel. Stainless steel is big on boats because it doesn't rust (well, actually it does, just not very much or very fast).

Then there's safety gear. That's a tough one for me. I can imagine emergency scenarios in which our life depends on every single emergency-related product West Marine offers (portable water-maker $999, floating signal flag $12). And ultimately we will have thousands of dollars worth of medical supplies and gear we hope not to use.

So it's not so much simplifying as trading. We're trading the stuff of one lifestyle for the stuff of another. Goodbye lamps and mirrors, hello spare parts and inflatable life vests. And even though all this sparkly, expensive gear is tempting, with limited space and dollars, we'll be running a cost-benefit analysis on everything we bring aboard.

When Mike and Eleanor get back from PV we'll have a better idea of what we'll need right away and what we can wait on or do without. The integrity of the hull, rigging (holds up the mast), sails, lifelines (fence circling the deck), and ground tackle (anchors, chain), plumbing, and electrical, and engine are at the top of the list. Also safety/emergency gear: EPIRB (emergency distress beacon), medical kit, crew recovery gear (for crew overboard), VHF (radio), life vests, tethers and attachment points, fire extinguishers, smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, bilge pumps, life raft and ditch bag ("abandon ship" bag), GPS and charts, depth meter. All those (plus whatever I missed) are essentials. So before I get in too much of a frenzy, I need to remind myself that everything else is optional, including (sigh) beautiful stainless steel coffee-presses.

--WR
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