How Does Energy Work on a Sailboat?

Annapolis – 0 miles sailed, 0 kilometres walked

I was up at 6 after an early night. I had a list of jobs to do and I wanted to get as many of them done as possible. I started by running a new 12 volt circuit up to the v-berth which had never been outfitted with one despite the other two cabins having one. Until now we’d used the 120 volt system for that, but then we have to run the inverter all night which uses up battery unnecessarily. That took longer than expected, so I had lunch then dinghy’d into town and had a nice decaf coffee at Bitty & Beau’s (look it up, amazing place) and used their wifi to publish a few days’ worth of journals. I then went on a fruitless search for a propane refill then returned to the boat and installed these neat plastic/rubber distance indicators on our anchor chain, which makes it very easy to see how much chain we’ve let out. Once I had all the chain hauled out on the deck, I went headfirst back into the anchor hold to remove the crappy sealant I used on the first attempt to fix a leak. Once it was cleaned up, I put fresh Sikaflex compound on the suspect crack. It will take a day or two to dry, but hopefully that fixes the leak. After that I washed the hull then zipped over to Ben and Kate’s for a one drink sundowner.

 

So since there wasn’t much of interest to report on today, I thought I’d write a bit about sources and uses of energy on a sailboat. With our recent battery problems and the prospect of living for the next six months off the grid, our energy needs and management thereof have taken on much greater significance.

 

The Wind

The wind powers the sails, and with the magic of vectors and wing physics, propels the boat forward and allows us to travel in the most environmentally friendly way possible. There are two devices some sailboats have (we do not) which makes supplementary use of this energy. Wind generators are miniature windmills that use the wind power to create electricity to charge the batteries. The other are hydro generators, which are devices either integrated into the propellor, attached to the underside of the boat, or towed behind the boat. They contain an impeller which is spun by the force of the water to generate electricity. Lastly, the wind can also be used to remove energy or heat from a boat by opening the windows and hatches.

 

The Sun

That big energy ball in the sky shines on our six solar panels to produce a lot of electricity. The theoretically maximum amount of energy our panels can produce is about 1300 watts but realistically it’s probably about 85% of that. The solar panels transform photons into higher voltage electricity which is taken by the three solar controllers on board and turned into 12 volt electricity which charges the batteries. The sun also produces thermal energy by hitting the boat and heating up the surfaces which increases temperature inside the boat.

 

The Ocean or Lake

The water we travel through affects the energy levels on the boat. Cold water cools the hull, absorbing interior heat, and dropping the temperature while hot water does the opposite.

 

Food and Drinks

A lot of muscle power is required to make a sailboat work. The obvious ones are pulling on lines to raise and trim sails, or pulling up the anchor, or rowing the dinghy, but all the repairs and everyday tasks on a sailboat require human movement. And this movement is fueled by food and drinks.

 

Gravity

We use gravity to store potential energy on our boat. The best example I can think of is our Brita water filter device. We fill it up with tap water using our muscle power and the energy required to run the pump, then whenever we want a glass of water, we push the spigot and water runs out, courtesy of gravity. Gravity is also used by the boat rigging and sails to make the whole thing move.

 

Diesel

Our sailboat engine runs on diesel and without it we are in big trouble. The diesel is stored in a 50 gallon tank and is sipped by the 54 horsepower engine. This energy is transformed into forward momentum by the spinning shaft and propellor, and a great deal of heat from the engine which warms the cabin as well as the water in our hot water tank, which is used later for showers and washing dishes. The diesel also powers the engine’s alternator which produces electrical current to charge the batteries. Lastly, we have a diesel burning heater which can be used on chilly nights to heat up the cabin of the boat.

 

Gasoline

We also carry gasoline on the boat and use it for two things. First, is the outboard engine on the dinghy, which isn’t strictly necessary, but it sure it convenient for getting around, especially in strong currents and winds where rowing can become impossible. The second use for gasoline is the portable generator we have on the boat which we can use to generate electricity to charge the batteries and power the 120 volt system.

 

Batteries

We have many batteries on the boat and they all need to be charged with electricity. The house bank consists of four 6-volt AGM (Absorbent Glass Matt) batteries that can store around 600 amp hours of energy. We have a single 12-volt lead-acid starting battery used for turning over the engine. We also have rechargeable batteries all over the place – the spotlight, table lamps, solar lights, toothbrushes, portable VHF, head flashlights, phones, tablet, laptop, Ryobi tool, probably a few more.

 

Propane

We carry 24 pounds of propane in two 12 pound tanks. This is used to power the two burners on the stovetop, the oven, and the barbeque, and can also be used to power the portable generator if gasoline is not available.

 

Now how is all this energy used? The boat has a 120-volt system, which can be powered from a shore cable when at a dock, but on the water is powered by a 2000 watt inverter which is, in turn, powered by the 12 volt house bank. We use this for all the things we plug in – the toaster, the air fryer, the electric kettle, device chargers, vacuum, ice maker, heat gun, soldering gun, and beauty items such as hair dryers and hair straighteners. The boat also has an extensive 12-volt system that runs directly off the house batteries and is used for such things as cabin lighting, bilge pumps, shower pumps, fresh water pump, mast lights, navigational lights, charging ports, stove solenoid, stereo system, vhf radio, auto pilot and navigational instruments, and refrigeration.

 

Now a lot of things I mentioned above also apply to your home, but you just don’t need to think about this much in a house because things generally just work…most of the time. Unless you live on the Ring of Fire or other earthquake-prone areas, houses are generally stationary and are not subject to the vicious and frequent beatings that boats take which tends to knock things loose and shakes the systems and equipment until they eventually break. Also, the national power grid tends to be quite reliable so you don’t need to think much about how much energy you are consuming nor where you next “energy meal” is coming from.

 

And that, my friends, is why boaters have a never-ending project list. Boats are complex systems and tend to break with some regularity. So if you’ve never thought of becoming an electrician, plumber, painter, fibreglasser, woodworker, solar expert, or gas fitter, just buy yourself a boat and you will become an expert in all those things!

An Asshole Boater and Arrival in Daytona

St. Augustine to Daytona  –  48 nautical miles sailed, 4 miles by dinghy, 4 kilometres walked

By 8 am we had filled the diesel and water tanks, discarded garbage and recycling, donated a bunch of books to the city marina library, and were back on the ICW headed south for Daytona. This part of the ICW was nice – deserted beaches with palm trees, cranes stabbing at minnows in the shallows, pelicans flying overhead, dolphins curving up and out of the water in pursuit of breakfast, but it demanded constant attention as many of the channels where narrow and shallow and there were many twists and turns. Ana took over the helm so I could have a shower, and shortly after I returned to the cockpit she pointed ahead at some commotion on the water. A big powerboat had done a 180 degree turn in the middle of the channel and drove back to a boat he had just passed. There looked to be some shouting back and forth and finger pointing, then the guy in the big boat suddenly powered up his four huge outboards and created a giant wake, trying to swamp the smaller boat. He succeeded in driving a wave of water over them and into their boat, then took off speeding northward past us and up the ICW. It wasn’t just the one asshole in the boat either, there were three or four other passengers, probably cheering him on.

 

That’s the first time we’ve seen anything like this on the water. It was brutal and extremely dangerous and it’s hard to imagine anybody being that careless and stupid. I hope we don’t see any more of that.

 

A bit later a power boater came up behind us, lurking slowly, suspiciously. We realized it was our friends Adrian and Sara, from the tequila episodes back in Charleston. They were moving their boat down the ICW to warmer climates just like us. We chatted back and forth on the radio a bit then they passed by and roared ahead.

 

The channel turned into the wide Halifax River and suddenly we were in Daytona. The anchorage location was poor – in a wide open are just past one of the many bridges in the city, but our anchor stuck on the first try and held fast. I launched the dinghy and we went in search of a place to dock it. We first tried a dinghy dock on the west side of the river that had been reviewed favourably on the Noforeignland app just in April. Well, it was mostly destroyed, we assumed from hurricane Milton in the summer, as was a large boardwalk we could see from there. So we moved further down the river to the next one, at Halifax Marina, and found it completely vacant but in decent shape so we locked the dinghy to the dock and started walking north as that direction seemed more promising, but you just never know what you’ll find.

 

Well, we found a cute commercial area with a bunch of shops, and sitting on a bench in front of one of the shops was Adrian. We chatted for a while, then Sara appeared, with a bag of product from the tea shop next door. There was brief consideration of a drink at the pub next door but I bailed. Very strange for me to bail on a drinking opportunity, but I did it for two reasons. First, I was feeling a little bit tired, and it looked to me like Adrian was perhaps a wee tired himself as he’s had a couple of friends come down to help him move the boat and I’m guessing there may have been some late nights. Second, and more importantly, Ana had some awful insomnia last night and hadn’t fallen asleep until after 3am so I knew she was tired. So we said goodbye, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before we ran into them again.

 

What did we find in Daytona? There were a lot of muscle cars and hot rods driving around, and the roar of engines was coming from all directions, not entirely unexpected for the city that hosts the NASCAR headquarters. Saturday night cruising maybe? Or perhaps a classic car rally? We also strolled through a lovely waterfront garden, called the Riverfront Esplanade. An elaborately laid stone and tile pathway meandered through tastefully lit palm trees, ponds and other water features, and swinging garden chairs looking over the river. It was very nice, but it was getting damn chilly from the cold front that had blown in a couple of days ago, so we returned to the boat, made a nice dinner, and retired for the evening.

Solo in Annapolis - Underwater Current Leakage and Sailor Jerry Reflections

Annapolis – 5 miles by dinghy, 4 kilometres walked

I lost my best girl today. Ana left this morning in the rental car for a trip back home to attend Stella’s grade 12 graduation, to see Magnus, to visit with her folks, and to take care of a few administrative tasks such as buying new winter tires for the car. The kids are good for taking care of basic housing necessities, but when it comes to plump maintenance expenditures, a parent’s credit card is a necessity.

 

My first day of bachelorhood was good, for the most part. I started working on my list of boat projects after kissing my beautiful wife goodbye and it didn’t take long until I found a major problem. There seemed to be 12 volts of electrical current passing below the boat, in the super conductive seawater, through the engine shaft to the metal parts on the underside of the boat, such as the keel and thru-hulls which tends to disintegrate things and cause one’s boat to sink. Just another day in the boater’s life, so I took it in stride and started testing everything on the boat with my multi-meter, ruling out certain theories, and ruling in others. I was tempted to call SeaLight’s electrician-in-chief (my dad), but I wanted to give myself a respective margin of failure before taking it to the next step. It didn’t take long before I hit a dead end, so I gave up, in hope of gaining some inspiration though purposeful procrastination.

 

I met up with Kate and Ben and we took a long dinghy ride to the furthest end of Back Creek and walked for 22 minutes to Fawcett Boat Supplies to pick up project materials. It is a great chandlery and the people working there were wonderful. I picked up a new zinc, a 12 volt charge port for the v-berth and associated connections, flag clips, and a few nuts and bolts for other needs, plus a boat electrician recommendation. We also hit a wine shop and Ben and I each scored a 1.75 litre bottle of Sailor Jerry's for $29, what a deal! We then walked back to the dinghy and rode back to vessel Waddington where they invited me in for a sundowner and we had a lovely sundowner indeed, being visited by various spooky witches and creatures on paddleboards, then enjoyed the warm sun and cozy cockpit thinking about the likely sub-zero situation back home.

 

After a few Sailor Jerry’s rum and cokes I dinghy’d back to SeaLight and started some serious reflection as I made a tikka masala Indian curry (anytime I am separated from my life partner I sprint directly for ring-sting inducing Indian food as she is not a huge fan…) I put on my Spotify 2021 Thanksgiving playlist that we and my brothers’ families made at that time, and it's an incredible set of songs that I listen to all the time. A song came up – Love Song by Tesla, an 80’s rock band. And you know who I thought of? My best buddy from high school, Darren Bessette.

I first met Darren Bessette in the change room in grade 10 as some of the other weak kids were getting rat-tail towel whipped in the showers by the hairy super jocks . He was complaining about something or someone (probably the super-jocks) and our complaints exactly matched so we became friends. And we remained best buddies for a long time, including those awkward high school years where boys think of nothing else but getting drunk and getting laid, and we had tremendous success with the former, but far less with the latter, despite our best efforts.

 

When I set off from Saskatchewan in search of my life, Darren remained there in pursuit of his. We went our separate ways, and tried to stay in touch, but our realities started to change. When I met the woman of my dream, there was never any doubt he would be my best man, as I was his, back in our early 20’s when he married Darla, from Debden. We had a great time meeting up again, but things had changed, and our paths and geographies were very different. We moved from overseas to Calgary, and we met up once or twice, but the reunions became infrequent after that. He ended up getting divorced from Darla and we moved to Ontario and somewhere along the way we stopped talking. Darren never was great for keeping in touch, and as soon as I stopped calling him, the communication ceased.

 

I know he’s bumped into my parents in Saskatoon over the years. But I haven’t spoken to him for at least ten years. A couple of years ago I got his cell phone number from a mutual friend of ours and tried calling him a couple of times but no luck. One night I was listening to a band we used to love – L.A. Guns – and I called him and left a 10 minute long message for him, playing tunes, talking about stuff, whatever. I probably dialled the wrong number, or maybe he thought it was a prank call (if people still do those...) I'm sad I was unable to get hold of him, but I do know if we ever met up in person again, we’d revert right back to where we left off and have a great time. Different realities, different priorites.

I miss him. I miss my other close buddies from Saskatoon too. But I do believe that old friendships never die, and when the stars align, they can be rekindled.

Visit to Washington…and a Near Run-in With Kamala Harris

Annapolis – 120 kilometres driven, 10 kilometres walked

Ana and I were out of the boat by 8am and on our way via Uber to the Thrifty rental car office. We got our Kia Sol car after a most entertaining conversation with the two local ladies there, who were looking for food recommendations for Canada and Ana recommended beaver tails, which is the best way to ensure tourists never visit Canada for a second time and just leave us alone. I told them to try a hot dog because they are way better than the American ones at least.

 

We used our newfound vehicular freedom to move batteries around. The old ones had to go back so I humped those four 83 pound lead-acid beauties from the boat to the dinghy to Steven’s Battery Warehouse, with help of Ben and Kate. After dumping the batts, we went to the local Aldi grocery store and score big time on groceries – the prices were cheap and much more in line with what we’ve seen from Aldi stores in the past.

 

On the way back to the boat we stopped at Bacon Sails and Marine Supply and found a massive warehouse of boater treats – used anchors, electronic gadgetry, solvents, rope, clothing, gear, man they had everything. Annapolis is a boater’s paradise and you find things here you just cannot find elsewhere. It is the best place in the world to have a boat breakdown.

 

After lunch back at the boats we took off for an afternoon tour of Washington, DC, which is less than an hour’s drive from Annapolis. There, we were surprised to find ourselves staring down the barrel of 75,000 very ordinary and regular, non-crazy, non open carry gun toting, and non dictator-worshipping people waiting in line for a Kamala Harris political rally. The city was electric with people everywhere, cops everywhere, total insanity. We sidestepped the chaos and walked the Mall to the Lincoln Memorial, WW2 Memorial, Reflecting Pond, Vietnam War Memorial, then found our way to a Cheesecake Factory restaurant, on Kate’s recommendation, which was excellent.

As we were walking back to our car after dinner we were stopped at the corner of the street by some cops. They had cleared the entire street and were yelling at people to stay on the sidewalks if they tried to cross. We waited for quite a while, speculating, and our suspicions were confirmed when Ana spoke to one of the cops and they said Kamala Harris's motorcade was going to be coming through. Sure enough, we saw the motorcade appear several blocks away heading for us...but they turned off before reaching our street. Ana was really hoping to see her, or at least one of the Escalades carrying her! The whole scene was quite exciting as neither of us has ever been this close to a big political rally before. It's just not the sort of thing that happens in Canada much.

We did not have time to visit any of the twelve Smithsonian museums while we were there, but it was a short pleasure to once again visit this grand city. Especially one week away from another sure to be tumultuous election.

As a final note, I remembered that today was exactly one month since we left Canada. Wow.

Annapolis. They Must Have Batteries Here

Rogue Harbour to Annapolis – 14 nautical miles, 50 kilometres Uber’d

Pulling that rope on my generator at 8am was excruciating. It was a calm and magical morning. Silent. A cozy blanket of fog was slowly lifting over the tranquil reed banks and glass ocean waters. The temperature was low, but the morning was crisp, and the other sailboats moored in the harbour sat still in the waters. The duck hunters must have slept in as I heard no shots. But our batteries were dead, and we needed energy to make toast, warm the water, and heat the frozen boat. The generator fired, destroying the peace, and I slunk below, embarrassed, but enjoyed the warm air blowing on my feet from the diesel heater. Sorry folks.

 

We left around 10 for Annapolis, 14 miles, and it was an easy run. Ana and I talked a lot about the trip experience thus far. However glamorous a sailboat trip to the Caribbean may look, it is a lot of work. And pressure. And stress. Add to that leaving our kids at home, and our jobs, and our everyday routine, and there’s just no way it is ever going to be a seamless transition. We are at a funny stage of our lives. We are both changing physically, getting older, and it sucks ass, but it’s inevitable. I think we often imagine ourselves as our sexy, fit, and whip-smart 20-somethings, which we were, and we rocked that shit. We’re now in our 50’s. I still think of ourselves as sexy as hell, but I know deep down that’s probably not true (at least not the way it was when we first met…). I've been told men are often better able to handle the aging process, probably because we don’t have menopause to deal with, nor societal beauty expectations, and our nature is generally more accepting of body odour and shredded clothing and we tend to care less about our physical appearance, focusing instead on our perceived ability to wrestle crocodiles, subdue terrorists, do corporate acquisitions, invest funds for long term appreciation, and tell really funny jokes.

 

We got anchored on a mooring buoy in Annapolis and I stood on the deck for a while to appreciate where we were. This is where we bought our dear sweet Bella Blue sailboat so it holds a special significance for us. It is also the sailing capital of the east coast and is packed, and I mean packed with sailboats and the sailing culture pervades everything.

 

It was time to solve the battery problem so we headed out in the dinghy to find the Victron lithium battery dealer at the back end of Back Creek. Our original plan to order lithium batteries online and have them delivered here had completely fallen apart because of an incompetent online retailer, but since we were now here we could get them ourselves. We found the boss Peter at the Victron dealership, or I should say we accosted him, unannounced, in his small warehouse. And he spent 20 minutes baffling us with so much techno bullshit that we left in a daze. He recommended five grand worth of upgrades to make our boat lithium-ready and we just couldn’t get behind that. So instead, we Uber’d first to West Marine, then to Steven’s Battery Warehouse and found a set of four AGM batteries to replace our faulty lead-acid ones. And those suckers fit right into the space available…after doing a couple of small modifications on the wood strapping. I got my daily workout by humping those batteries from the store, to the Uber, to the dinghy, to the boat, to the battery space within the boat, and by the end of the day my hands were raw and cracked. All in day’s work. But it seemed we had finally solved our battery problem. But let’s see how they come up tomorrow.

Rock Hall and Fried Chicken

Rogue Harbour to Swan Creek and Rock Hall – 15 nautical miles, 5 kilometres walked

I slept in until the ungodly hour of 8am. I will blame the rum and the midnight bedtime, but in fact I felt pretty good and even had the strength to muscle in the heavy anchor and chain so we could get underway.

 

Our ride was calm and uneventful and we had to motor the entire way as the wind was too light to sail. Chesapeake Bay is full of shallows and reefs and looks quite treacherous for deep draft vessels so we stuck to the deep and well marked commercial channel. To either side of the channel were many crab pot markers, and we know people who have run into these and caused massive damage to their boats, so we stayed clear.

 

Swan Creek is one of the two bays that encircle the village of Rock Hall and we found a cozy anchorage just off the channel entrance. Ben and Kate had arrived earlier and tucked themselves into a spot further into the bay, which was possible with their shorter, shoal-draft keel. Our boat needs at least two feet more of water so they are able to get into places we are not.

Ana and I took the dinghy into shore and tied up at one of the marinas then started walking. It was a sleepy Sunday and the town was very quiet, but beautiful, with its houses on stilts, nautical-themed everything, six marinas, mature trees, and well kept yards. A small bus with the word FREE stamped on the side passed us and I waved him down. The driver opened the door and told us this was a free bus provided by the community and it did a full loop of the town. We jumped aboard and he took us for a ride, along the way telling us his story, all the places he’s lived, and many of his observations about the town and its people. He dropped us off on downtown main street and pointed us towards an ice cream shop, which he heartily recommended.

 

We went into a gift shop sort of place and browsed there for a while then found an incredibly well-stocked fresh food market and picked up some veggies, then wandered down the street, peeking into the shop windows but nearly all the stores were closed. It is a very cute street and I could imagine what the peak season hustle would look like here. We were tempted to stop for a pizza at the one place which was open, but instead decided to grab some HOT TO GO from the grocery store, so with our bag of fried chicken, pot of potato salad, and fresh buns we took the long, slow walk back to the dinghy, had ourselves a nice meal on the boat, then zipped over to Ben and Kate’s boat for a short visit, and were back in time for a most pleasurable 10pm bedtime.

Shotgun Start, C&D Canal, Rogue Harbour, Elk Neck Park, and the Haircutting Plan

Reedy Island to Rogue Harbour – 15 nautical miles, 5 kilometres walked

We awoke to the delightful popping noises of duck hunters blowing away Daffy, Donald, Howard and chums in the marshlands near the anchorage. And by the ferocity and frequency of blasts I’m guessing the ducks didn’t have a chance.

 

We have a device on the boat called a windlass which pulls in the anchor or lets it out at the push of a button. This morning the push of a button returned a barrage of troubling clicking noises instead of pulling in the chain, which I assumed was a failure in the internal workings of the windlass solenoid, something we had experienced this summer but though we had fixed. I got an excellent early morning back, legs, and biceps workout by hauling in 150 feet of thick chain and a 60 pound anchor that was a real beast, especially as it was covered in gooey muck that added another few pounds.

 

We navigated out of the anchorage and into the C&D Canal and it was a lovely ride – calm, peaceful (except for the continuing shotgun blasts), no random floating trees like in the Erie Canal, and just a few other boats. Ana called me down to the cabin because the toaster, which runs off the inverter, was not working and I realized then that the problem with the anchor was the batteries, which seemed to be rapidly deteriorating if they were no longer able to run a toaster. The only thing getting toasted today was batteries.

 

After transiting most of the canal we reached Chesapeake City, pulled the boat into the bay and borrowed a dock at the private marina there as the anchorage was full of boats. We then jumped on the Zoom for our Newport Yacht Club annual general meeting and Ana gave an excellent presentation as Director of Marketing and Volunteers.

As the canal opened up into Chesapeake Bay, the wind was screaming from the north at 15 to 20 knots so we put up the headsail, shut off the motor, and did some peaceful and quiet sailing for a glorious five miles then anchored near our buddy boat in Rogue Harbour. Once we were settled we dropped the dingy, picked up Kate and Ben, headed to shore, and walked the Beaver Marsh Loop in Elk Neck State Park. It took us across a nice beach, through woodlands, up and down some rugged terrain, and around a big marsh. It felt good to get off the boat and stretch out the legs.

 

When we returned to the boat I found the batteries were down to 7.5 volts. “Holy shit!” I hollered. “These batteries are totally messed up. I’m getting out the generator.” So I pulled out the generator and we switched into powerboat mode with the associated smell and pollution, but with a decidedly delicious 14 volts of pure DC power from the inverter. We plugged in every device and fired up the icemaker to make use of the gigglywattts.

 

We all gathered together in the belly of SeaLight and were so happy to hang out with Ben and Kate again as we hadn’t been in the same space for over a week. Ana helped Kate with a travel website she was setting up while I executed my plan to eradicate the rest my cold. The plan was to use alcohol to kill off the remaining germs attacking my body and Ben was more than happy to help, so we polished off most of a bottle of Captain Morgan and felt ourselves getting wiser, funnier, and more handsome with each drink. At one point the conversation turned to retirement planning.

“Ana and I have an amazing plan,” I said as I topped up my cup with fresh spiced rum. “She brought her haircutting gear and is going to fund our travels by doing haircuts. I’ve already got a name for the business. It’s called Dock Cutzzz. This will enable us to travel indefinitely.”

 

“Dock Cutzzz?” Ben asked. “How many z’s?”

 

“Three z’s.”

 

“What about when you’re anchored out?”

 

“Harbour Cutzzz. I’ll make up two signs. She can cut hair of other cheap-assed sailors on the deck of SeaLight.”

 

“What kind of cutzzz do you do,” Kate asked Ana. I was mighty impressed with her perfect pronounciation.

 

“I only do two cutzzz. For men, it’s the OneTwo cut. Number one on the sidezzz, number two on the top,” said Ana as she looked over a Ben, noticing his intense interest, running his hands along the sides of his head.

 

“How about cutzzz for women?” asked Kate. 

 

“I call it the Tropical Lesbian. Similar to the OneTwo, but a bit longer on top for the ladiezzz.”

 

“Amazing! Can you cut my hair right now? I'll take the OneTwo,” said Ben wide eyed.

 

“Sure. You got twenty buckzzz?”

 

“Not on me.”

 

“Come back tomorrow.”

Sailing Delaware Bay and Hot Dog Tossing

Cape May, New Jersey to Reedy Island, Delaware – 54 nautical miles

We pulled up anchor and left at first light. The plan for today was to round Cape May and head north into Delaware Bay which leads to the C&D Canal when in turn joints into the start of Chesapeake Bay. This leg has the potential to be awful as the combination of strong tidal currents, shallows, and opposing winds can create huge standing waves. Ben and I talked it through yesterday, looked at the wind and tide forecasts and decided it was a decent enough day to try it. Ben and Kate’s boat travels at a slower speed than ours so they left at 4am and we followed at 7.

 

There is a large set of shoals just outside Cape Map that we wound through, finding ourselves perilously close to the beach and lighthouse at one point, close enough such that the fisherman who was standing on the beach casting his line could have easily dropped his bait on the deck of our boat. We ran into a patch of standing waves which were manageable and beat us up for a bit but once we got into the bay the waves became larger but more predictable and we were able to make about 5 knots with a 14 knot north-east wind, the headsail up and the motor running.

 

Ben and Kate, on the other hand, were struggling. They had to face a much stronger tidal current and at one point they had their sails up and motor running and were stationary. Plus the boat was getting rocked by the large waves. We were surprised when we caught up with them at 10am, as we expected they would be much further along by then, but at that point the current had eased and they were moving along well.

 

The winds and current calmed right down in the afternoon and it was a nice ride. There is a shipping channel cut through the bay which all the commercial traffic uses, and there is a lot of commercial traffic here as this is one of the busiest shipping routes on the coast. We stayed just outside of the channel and were passed by many boats, including a crude oil tanker called Orpheus, who actually stopped and anchored outside the channel at one point. Turns out the million pound anchors hanging off the front of those monstrous ships are not just for show.

 

At the peak of boredom I remembered the mostly full package of hot dogs in the fridge I’d been meaning to throw out. I bought two packs of these at a grocery store days ago because they were cheap. Well, I got what I paid for. They were the worst hot dogs I’ve ever had. And for me to throw out hot dogs…that tells you something. Our hot dogs in Canada are great – not as fantastic as the ones in Denmark obviously, but still pretty good. But in the US? The great words by one of the nation’s finest laureate poets Dan Aykroyd finally made sense to me. As Roman Craig in The Great Outdoors he said, “You know what they make hot dogs out of Chet? You know? Lips and assholes!” I could taste the lips and assholes in these hot dogs and I didn’t like it one bit.

 

I asked Ana if she’s like to have a hot dog tossing contest but she was feeling worse than ever and wasn’t up for it so I went up the deck alone with my packet of projectiles. I gave the first one a straight overhand throw and it was immensely satisfying watching it wobble through the air like a tubular football and slap onto the water then sink to the depths, hopefully burying itself in the mud so it wouldn’t poison any of the fish. I gave the next one a hearty helicopter spin. I spun it so hard it started gaining elevation and I thought it was going to go straight up and get sucked into a jet engine (likely a Boeing considering their recent fortunes). But it eventually lost spin and flopped down into the water with a gleeful popping noise. I chucked the next one right at the one of the metal shrouds on the boat (these are the thin braided steel lines that attach the mast to the boat at the sides), and it perfectly bifurcated the wiener, creating two mini-sausage projectiles that spun off into the ocean and made me laugh out loud. I made it down to the last wiener and launched that one straight up into the air, wondering if it might land back on the deck and explode and how funny that would be, but my aim was not true and it landed away from the boat and slowly sunk. I just hoped that some nasty ocean catfish or mud crabs would get at them before any of the beautiful dolphins.

 

We made it to the anchorage by about 4pm and anchored behind Reedy Island after passing through a super sketchy entrance that looked to have a foot of water, but I trusted the charts and found it had plenty of depth. Kate and Ben arrived an hour or two later and we were so looking forward to having them over for cockpit drinks, but both of us were still sick and the last thing we wanted to do is infect our friends and ruin their lives for a week.

 

Tomorrow, we plan to conquer the C&D Canal and meet Chesapeake Bay.

A Visit to Cape May and the Power of Excel

Cape May, New Jersey – 2 miles by dinghy, 7 kilometres walked

This morning it drizzled for about 25 minutes. That’s the first rain we’ve seen since in over two weeks and I don’t think there was single two week period this summer when we didn’t get pounded with a rainstorm. The weather we’ve experienced so far has been excellent. Sunny days, cool nights, and when the winds have been strong, they have usually been in our favour. I have always been a strictly summer guy but I will admit the quality of the fall season has been rising in my estimation.

 

Despite both of us still feeing rotten, and despite there being a 20 knot wind blowing us toward a lee shore (which means the wind is blowing you towards land) with our trusty Rocna anchor holding us steady, we decided to take the dinghy into South Jersey Marina then walk into town. We passed by commercial docks and saw a large fleet of massive fishing vessels, the ones with ten miles length of nets all wound up on giant rollers. I had quick look online and this is one of the largest fishing ports on the east coast and their primary catch is scallops, squid, mackerel, lobster, and butterfish. The government website also read that in 2013 their overall catch was 20 million pounds with an estimated value of $35 million. So at a buck-fifty per pound to the fishermen, the massive amount of margin must be going to the middlemen and retailers. There was also a large number of big sportfishing charter boats in the marina. Sometimes I wonder how there can be any fish at all left in the ocean.

 

It was a nice, long walk into town and what we found there was a cute tourist town, centered around the Washington Street Mall pedestrian area. It was lined up with specialty boutiques, coffee shops, restaurants, and had great street furniture for all the old men to sit on while the wives burnt up their social security cheques in the stores.

 

From here we walked towards the ocean and found an incredibly huge and luscious beach with white sand, lifeguard stations, beachside cafes, and washroom/changerooms. As it was the end of the season, the beach was deserted but I could imagine the hoards of tourists here in July.

I was really not feeling so well, and also nervously looking at the anchor app (which mirrors from my own phone left at the boat to track its movements and screeches out an alarm if the boat moves outside of its anchor range…meaning the anchor has let loose and you are in big trouble) every few minutes, so we returned to the marina, dinghy’d back, and found the boat exactly as we left it, except the wind was even stronger now.

 

The rest of the day was spent route planning for the following day, which was going to be a big one as we had to get up the Delaware Canal, and it was not known by others to be the most enjoyable part of the journey. Ben and Kate wanted to come by for a visit but that would involve bleaching every surface and fumigating the entire contents of the boat, then we’d have to leave before they got here so as not to infect them, so they considered it then decided against that plan.

 

In the evening we had a quick call with my brother Curtis. Ana noticed on Facebook that they are selling their lovely cabin in Manitou beach in Saskatchewan and we were very surprised as they haven’t had it for long and absolutely love it.

“You guys moving somewhere?” I asked him.

 

“No, why?” Curtis replied.

 

“You’re selling the cabin. What’s up with that?”

 

“Time to move onto other opportunities.”

 

“Did you do a spreadsheet for that analysis?”

 

“Of course so! How do you think we made it to that decision?”

 

“You know, some people say you can’t put a value on fun. I say those people just haven’t learned how to use Excel properly.”

How Did We Become Sailors?

Cape May, New Jersey – 0 nautical miles, 247 Kleenex tissues consumed

Since both Ana and I are now sick, and our activities yesterday were limited to sleeping, resetting the anchor a couple times, a paddleboard ride and beach walk for me, eating some cookies that Kate and Ben kindly bought for us in town, and watching a couple of movies, I will instead today write about how we became sailors.

 

I am from Saskatchewan, a place known more for farming than seafaring. But as my buddy David Leng has mentioned to me on multiple occasions, sailing is in my blood as I have deep Scandinavian roots – Icelandic on my Dad’s side and Swedish on my Mom’s. And those Vikings certainly were seafarers, and not too bad at farming either, plus they were tops at raping and pillaging (but I haven't tried this yet). So me getting into sailing makes a certain amount of sense, if you consider historical origins.

 

My first glimpse of sailing happened when I was a little kid and my dad got a line on this sailboat some farmer was restoring but ran out of either patience or money and needed to liquidate. He thought it would be a good backyard project, although I have no idea how we would have gotten it into our suburban Saskatoon backyard through that little gate. My dad has always been a dreamer, but a mostly practical one, and he envisioned himself fixing up this boat and I guess launching it in the South Saskatchewan River and sailing it to the Atlantic then around the world? Anyway, his hopes were dashed when we all went to this weekend psychic festival at the Holiday Inn in Saskatoon and a batty old heavily eyeshadowed psychic wearing a carpet for a shawl told him there was something wrong with the boat and he shouldn’t buy it. Which just exposes the fraudulent nature of psychics – there’s something wrong with EVERY boat. Duh.

 

Anyway, that project fell apart, but it wasn’t long before Brian Ford (a.k.a. The Legend of Fishing Lake) picked up a windsurfer somewhere and started teaching all the kids how to use it. I loved it so much that my parents bought us a Bic 250 windsurfer and let me tell you, I spent every hour I could on that thing and loved it. I learned how the wind works and how to adjust the sail to get maximum speed. I learned about centreboards and how they were needed to turn the sideways wind power into forward velocity. I also thought I looked pretty cool ripping around on the lake with my black shades and my hat turned backwards and thought it might translate into some success with the ladyfolk out there but that never happened – they were more impressed with practical farm skills like baling and combining, and I had none of those. So I’d have to find my life partner elsewhere.

 

My next experience with sailing came about ten years later when I was living and working in the Bahamas and four of us landlubbing consultants on the project (I prefer “International Men of Mystery”) pooled our funds and bought a 1979 Hunter 30’ sailboat called The Lost Shaker which I still believe is the greatest boat name ever as it comes from a Jimmy Buffet song. It came with a marina slip in Nassau and one of our boat neighbours Dan gave us sailing lessons, which only helped a bit, as we brutalized that boat and really roughed her up, smashing into coral reefs, banging the keel into rocks, breaking the prop, losing the engine off the dinghy, and having to get rescued by BASRA (Bahamas Air and Sea Rescue Association) so many times we were on a first name basis with the officers. But we had a lot of fun sailing her and it did result in some luck with the ladies (or at least one) – that’s where Ana and I met, and she was very impressed with our yacht and that’s where we first sailed together. I knew right away she was the one for me, as she too was from a seafaring nation - Portugal - and we were destined to sail the world together in the future. But not on that boat as it got sort of wrecked in a hurricane.

 

Spin forward another ten years. After living and working overseas for quite a while, we moved back to Canada in 2003, had our kids in Calgary, then moved to Paris, Ontario in 2006 which is positioned perfectly between the Great Lakes of Lake Erie, Lake Huron, and Lake Ontario. It was time to get back into sailing. It also happened that Ana’s job with WestJet wrapped up around this time so any low cost traveling we were to do in the future was going to have to be land or water based. And we’re not much for camping or motorhomes so in 2010 we bought a boat – a 2005 Hunter 33’ called Bella Blue, which was a perfect boat for us at that point in our lives. We docked it in Port Dover on Lake Erie and spent ten years covering nearly every inch of that lake, plus another season in Sarnia on Lake Huron, and two extended trips into the North Channel and Georgian Bay. The kids grew up on that boat and we really learned how to sail.

 

With rapidly growing kids we realized in 2020 that Bella Blue was getting too small for us. So we made the difficult decision to let her go at the end of summer and were boatless…but not for long. The following spring Ana found us a boat – a magnificent 2005 43’ Beneteau Cyclades called SeaLight, and we’ve spent four seasons cruising the width and breadth of Lake Ontario with our kids, our extended family, and our friends. She is now taking us to the Bahamas and is currently where we call home.

 

Where will our sailing career take us from here? This trip is a big test for us. By the end of it we are sure to know our tolerance for spending long periods of time on a boat. I don’t think we would ever permanently move onto a boat, but I can foresee some longer trips and progressively more challenging ones in our future. I would love to sail across the Atlantic to the Azores, then onwards to the Mediterranean. I’d also like to sail further into the Caribbean and maybe to South America or Mexico or Panama. And who knows, maybe cross the Pacific one day. But we’re not at the right stage of life or skill level now.

For now, we are doing what we love and gaining new sailing skills every day through making mistakes, learning from them, and getting to know every square inch of this boat.

Overnight Ocean Sail

New York City to Cape May, New Jersey – 150 nautical miles

By 8am we had left the mooring, filled up SeaLight’s tanks with fresh water from the marina dock, returned everything to the anchor hold, cleaned the muck and grime from the anchor chain off the boat deck, said goodbye to Magnus and send him off to the subway, and were on our way heading south at 9 knots on an ebbing tide, ready for the next stage of our adventure.

 

We stopped at a fancy marina called Liberty Landing just across from the south end of Manhattan and filled up with fuel, bought a few things from their fantastic chandlery, and spoke to their staff about finding suitable replacement batteries, which didn’t work out but they sure tried their best. From there we continued south a mile or so and what do you know, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. We took the mandatory brag shots then navigated our way out of New York harbour which was easier and less stressful than I had feared. It was actually very easy, and I was prepared for it to be tricky, but the bay is just so massive that there’s room for everybody. I quite enjoyed the buoys as they were outfitted with huge bells that produced loud gonging noises as they were rocked by boat wake. 

 

Soon, we were out of New York and on the mighty Atlantic Ocean and it was precisely not what I expected. Total glass. No waves. Calm as Lake Ontario on a windless day. I was prepared for The Perfect Storm, but what I got instead was Tranquility Bay. We eased out into the ocean and began the long haul to Cape May, which we hoped to reach by early morning after our first overnight ocean run. Before losing cell signal, Ana contacted a yacht club in Annapolis that was willing to accept a package for us (in exchange for docking there for a night) and we put in an order for new Victron lithium batteries, which were scheduled to be shipped within a week.

 

With that bit of work done we kicked back and enjoyed the ride. Well, at least I did – And had picked up a rotten cold (or something) and she felt progressively worse and worse as the day went on. The wind started picking up and it was right on our nose, but even ten knots of wind didn’t seem to build much for waves so the ride remained quite smooth.

As midnight neared, and the spooky orange slice of a moon rose higher into the dark sky, we passed Atlantic City and cheered on the gamblers, who were completely unaware of us.

New York City – Aircraft Carriers, Pasta in Times Square, Advice from Dads

New York City – 11 kilometers walked

By 6:30am our batteries were showing 10.5 volts, not enough to run any of the 12 volt systems on the boat so I fired up our portable generator to get some fresh jigglywatts back into the system. I also turned on the diesel heater to take the bite off the morning chill, and just to make sure we were making our best effort to destroy the Earth, I also fired up the diesel engine to warm up the water so we could have showers. Thankfully there were no overnight sailors anywhere close to us to see this travesty of greenhouse gas emissions. The only thing worse would have been if I had been screening Talladega Nights on the mainsail from our kerosene-powered projector.

 

We had a big breakfast of eggs and sausages then I got to work on the batteries. Whenever I’m contemplating an electrical project with the potential for massive injury (which is most of them) I give my dad a call as he’s got solid electrical skills. I ran the plan by him via FaceTime, we talked it through, then I executed without electrocution or explosion. Magnus said, “I guess you’re never too old to call your dad for advice, hey Dad?”

 

“That’s absolutely right. Dads know a lot. I hope you can call me for electrical advice someday,” I said, then looked at him expectantly.

 

“I’ll probably just call if I need help with Excel or some computer thing.”

 

That was good enough for me.

 

After the battery project I turned my attention to the leak in the anchor hold. It hadn’t dried much overnight as the crazy currents and wake splashed high on the boat and kept forcing water into the space through the anchor vent clamshells. I had to ask Ana to spot for me as it was a long way down there and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to push myself back out without shitting my pants or blowing a vein in my brain, so she was at the ready to start heaving on my legs. I went headfirst into the hold with some blue shop towels and a tube of sealant clamped between my teeth like some sort of maintenance pirate. Well, the sealant must have been old or something because it came out a strange colour and was more jellied than advertised. I should have stopped right there and got a different sealant but since I was upside down with the blood rapidly flooding my brain messing up the wiring, I went ahead and did the shoddy repair and hoped for the best.

 

By noon we were ready to go so we jumped back on our favourite subway and headed to the city. Ana got off a couple stops before me to go shopping at Columbus Circle and I met up with Magnus near Penn Station, but it took a few texts back and forth to find each other. It went something like this:

 

Me: MEET ME AT 7^TH AVENUE AND 29^th STREET

Magnus: OK, I’M THERE, WHICH CORNER ARE YOU ON?

Me: THE ONE WITH THE HOT DOG STAND

Magnus: THERE’S HOT DOG STANDS ON THREE OF THE CORNERS

Me: AH, RIGHT. I’LL BE THE GUY WAVING HIS HANDS AND JUMPING UP AND DOWN

Magnus: QUIT JUMPING UP AND DOWN, I SEE YOU. JEEZ.

 

I was quite thrilled when Magnus said he’d like to join me at the Intrepid museum, which is a giant aircraft carrier and nuclear submarine anchored right in the Hudson River. I remember my buddy Tony telling me about it years before, and how he’d spent the better part of a day there. Well, I can see why – it was excellent. We spent a lot of time looking through the many displays, walked the ship from end to end on the various levels, then spent quite a while checking out the airplanes and helicopters on the flight deck of Intrepid. We were both surprised to see the Enterprise space shuttle also there, in its full glory, in a massive covered hangar on the deck of Intrepid. Something else I didn’t expect was a British Airways Concorde jet on the jetty beside the ships, within the same complex. After exploring all this we decided to give the sub a miss as there was a lengthy queue and we felt like we’d had our fill of war machines for the day.

 

We met Ana in Times Square, had a nice dinner at the Olive Garden restaurant, then walked around enjoying the frenzy of tourists taking selfies, street performers working hard to draw a crowd, Furries hustling tourists to part with some cash for a photo, scantily clad women with their camera crews creating social media content in the form of plunging necklines, bulging bosoms, and runway pose-offs, and the thousands upon thousands of video screens advertising the best and worst of America, and robbing the night of its darkness.

 

We walked north to find the next A train station, along the way visiting, yes, an M&M’s store – wall of chocolate, full sized M&M mannequins, clothing and giftware for each of the M&M colours, and a bunch of other ridiculous stuff. But it was packed full of tourists, and most of them were buying.

We subway’d back to home base, stopped at the wine store to pick up a fresh box of plonk, then took our final dinghy ride back to SeaLight.

 

Tomorrow Magnus goes home and we head south.