After chartering for a couple of years, we were more enthused about sailing than ever. We couldn’t wait to book our next charter, but we still hadn’t made any decisions to sell up and sail off. We hadn’t even discussed it. We were far from thoughts of retiring. We decided, however, that maybe it was time to buy our own boat and keep it in the Florida Keys. We’d read about putting boats into charter and thought this might be an option for having our cake and eating it, too. Under the supervision of a local manager, we could rent out the boat when we weren’t there and then use it ourselves whenever we had the urge. This was a bad idea on so many levels.

Thinking back, it just didn’t make sense … but that certainly didn’t stop us. Here’s what we knew.

We lived in Colorado and our fledgling business required a minimum of 50-60 hours/week to maintain. The kids were teenagers and had a full social schedule that did not usually include their parents, but certainly they could not be left alone for long weekends and flying all of us to Key West regularly wasn’t in the budget.

What didn’t we know? More than you (or we) could imagine. Moreover, we didn’t know what we didn’t know. Ain’t that always the way? We didn’t really realize that putting an older boat into charter with a so-so manager who only cared about his commission would leave the boat in a constant state of disrepair and thus, un-charterable. We found a manager in the Keys who suggested that we buy a Morgan Out Island 41 ketch. It was shoal draft, good for the Keys and easy to sail, though far from a performance boat. We bought Sea Fever, a 1978 Morgan Out Island ketch, outfitted her per recommendation and sailed her once before turning her over to the manager. We ended up chartering her out three times and each time it cost us money. One charter blew out the mainsail in a blow. Another lost the dinghy, but claimed it was due to a chafed painter and the manager didn’t argue. One charterer evidently hit the dock on return to the marina, but the manager never noticed. We received a bill after each incident and on one occasion, the manager insisted that the charter fee be refunded, but charged us his commission anyway. Expensive venture!

We also didn’t appreciate that getting to the Keys on a regular basis would be such a tedious process. When we were headed to the Keys for a 10-day vacation, it wasn’t as important to get there in a hurry. It was okay to decompress a little along the way. However, with only 3-4 days max, there was no time to gear down before it was time to leave again. An airline delay or heavy weekend traffic on A1A drove us nuts. And we didn’t figure weather would play such a major role in our long weekend enjoyment factor either. We fantasized that we’d always have great weather like in the Carib or on the limited Florida charters we’d taken. After planning a 4-day getaway to the Keys in which nearly two days involved travel, torrential downpours and a leaky boat would render our mini-vacation a bust. We were keyed up and grousing at each other all the time we were there, and then it was time to head back home again.

We really had limited practical boat experience when it came to knowing what we liked and didn’t like in a boat or on a boat. The charter boats we’d sailed were usually Beneteaus or Jeanneaus and we were pretty sure we didn’t want one of them. We’d read a lot, but we yielded to the the charter manager’s recommendations. It was expedient and got us into the charter business quickly enough, but it was a hasty, poorly derived decision. We were so anxious to own a boat, we let our better judgment fly out the window.

Additionally, we underestimated the “real” cost of owning a boat. The boat, insurance and marina fees were a given. Regular ongoing maintenance, expensive boat parts, tradesmen we didn’t know whether to trust, electronics that went awry just because the boat sat unused for weeks at a time … none of this was in our initial budget. We hadn’t yet learned about “boat dollars” … the conversion factor which renders everything marked “marine” to cost 3-10X the cost of anything on land. It’s also important to note that “Nothing’s ever easy on a boat”, our personal adage, confirming that Murphy (of Murphy’s Law acclaim) will invariably be present whenever something needs to be repaired or installed. Even when David knew how to fix something, we were never around long enough to effect the repair, hence we were always at the mercy of unreliable and expensive tradesmen.

We found ourselves hurrying to get to the boat and then working all weekend to do regular maintenance, fix what was broken only to discover when we thought we’d head out for a sail that something else needed fixing. Then it was time to pack up to leave. We began to hate the whole experience. Not quite what we’d imagined. Still … on those few rare occasions that we did get to sail on our own boat, it was phenomenal.

Let’s face it … we were suffering from a major case of naiveté and heavy-duty impatience. We had no idea what we wanted in a boat, the boat best suited to “our” needs (not the charter folks), what gear we needed, where we wanted to go, how much it would cost. We had no real practical knowledge nor experience and the questions just kept mounting up. Back to the drawing board.

After 18 months, we sold Sea Fever … at a loss … and went back to chartering for awhile. A costly lesson, well-learned that provided us with more questions than answers. Is this something we might like to do somewhere in the distant future? Sure … it’s everyone’s pipe dream. Sail off into the sunset and not have a care in the world. Sea Fever was an apt name for our first boat because we were so driven to buy a boat, we made foolish mistakes. We were pretty good business people and forgot that pre-planning and patience help to insure successful outcomes.

Watch for our continuing saga next Monday. In the meantime, if you missed earlier posts in our From There to Here series and want to catch up, just search There to Here our the blog page and the posts will all be available for your reading pleasure. We aim to please!

I was eyeing our anchor a few days ago, trying to ignore how rusty the end of the chain was beginning to look. It wasn’t working. The last time we used it was five months ago, and sitting unused , exposed to the elements all that time had taken its toll. As much as I would like to put off spending money on something as unexciting and mundane as anchor chain, doing something about those rusty links couldn’t be postponed much longer.

Perhaps we could just swap the ends of the chain? The anchor end of the chain gets dunked routinely in salt water, while the bitter end spends less time in the water, staying dry and rust free. Checking back through our maintenance logs, however, I discovered that we already did that a few years ago in Africa, so no, we shouldn’t swap the ends again. Maybe we could get it re-galvanized? Hmmm – those same maintenance logs showed we had had it re-galvanized twice before. Even someone as frugal I am might have to admit he’d gotten his money’s worth out of the old chain and it was time to think about replacing it.

Determining the type and size of chain for a boat gets confusing. Should we get G3, G4, G43, BBB, HT, 316 stainless, proof, G7 or G8 chain? First, we can eliminate everything but anchor windlass chain – mooring or industrial chain which have different link sizes or may not be suitable for the marine environment.

For our use, we can eliminate stainless chain. Stainless chain looks beautiful and stacks nicely in the chain locker without piling up, but there is disagreement as to its reliability. That aside, it costs about 5x as much as galvanized chain, and isn’t in the running for us.

We can further reduce our candidates. It turns out that G3 and G30 are different names for the same chain, as are G4, G43 and G40, and G7 and G70. The number following the ‘G’ denotes the relative strength of the wire or rod from which the chain is made. For our three remaining candidates then, the relative strengths would be 3:4:7. For example, if a particular size of G30 chain had a Minimum Breaking Stress (MBS) (aka Minimum Breaking Load) of 3000 lbs, the same size G40 would have an approximate MBS of 4000 lbs, and the equivalent G70 chain would have an MBS of 7000 lbs.

The tables below provide the minimum recommended size chain for various boat sizes, based on the MBS of the chain. Unfortunately, most chain suppliers only provide the Safe Working Load (SWL) (aka Working Load Limit and Normal Working Load ) in their chain specifications. For reasons that aren’t clear to me, the formulae used to calculate SWL vary depending on the type of chain – sometimes it is 25% of the MBS, sometimes it is 33%. It is safer and more consistent to use the Minimum Breaking Strength when comparing chain strength.

Light Displacement and Low Windage Vessels

Medium Displacement Vessels

Heavy Displacement and High Windage Vessels

As the tables show, we could use a smaller size chain if it was G40 or G70, while maintaining the same strength. For 200-300 feet of chain, the reduction in weight would be considerable. In addition, it may actually be less expensive to buy a smaller size, higher grade chain.

The final part of the decision process depends, of course, on the size of the chain gypsy. Unless we are planning to buy a new gypsy or are replacing the windlass, which we aren’t, our options are narrowed even further. The windlass on Nine of Cups has a gypsy designed for 3/8” G40 HT chain, making the decision quite simple. The only thing left to do now is to shop around for a good deal.

I am leery of buying the cheapest chain I can find for something as important as the anchor chain that will be holding us off the rocks some stormy night somewhere. West Marine lists their G43 HT chain for $6.99 a foot. Ouch! Amazon has a good price on Titan brand chain, a Chinese made chain that has good reviews. Their price for 200 feet, including delivery is $859, or about $4.30/ft. That’s better, but when I went to their website to check the specifications, I got a 404 error – URL not found. That was worrisome.

The chandlery here at Atlantic Yacht Basin in Chesapeake, however, can get Acco chain delivered right to Cups for $4.12 a foot. After sales tax, the price ends up being about 3 pennies more per foot than Amazon. It was painful, but I managed to overcome my frugal propensities and actually sprung for the extra $6.00. It’s now on order and should be in soon.

As soon as it arrives, we’ll paint the depth marks on the new chain, then splice the rope rode to the end of it.

The Chrysler Museum is an impressive place from the moment you arrive. We climbed the well-worn white marble stairs and passed through the heavy doors into a huge, high-ceiling entry hall. Staff was on hand to welcome us and provide a visitor guide. Despite the dismal weather, there were few other visitors. We oriented ourselves and headed first in the direction of the Toulouse-Lautrec exhibit.

From lithograph prints and posters to restaurant menus, book illustrations, theater programs, and commercial advertisements, we observed a “modern, sometimes decadent” Paris through the eyes of this well-known, late 19th century, Post-Impressionist artist. His contemporaries were the likes of Cézanne, Van Gogh and Gauguin.

We wandered through gallery after gallery of artwork, oohing and ahhing as we spotted an artist or a work with which we were familiar. We especially enjoyed the 20th century artists like Renoir, Gaugin, Monet, Rousseau, Sargent, Winslow Homer and Mary Cassatt. Informative placards helped us better appreciate what we were seeing. We looked closely at brush strokes and use of color and tiny detail, then backed away to take in the whole image.

We interrupted our tour in time to catch the glass making demonstration at the Glass Studio across the street from the main museum building. We learned more about glass making techniques and glassblowing in one hour than we’d ever known before. It was fascinating and during the demonstration following the mini-lecture, the artist created a handblown goblet before our eyes.

Back to the main museum we spent time in the Modern and Contemporary art sections where works of Picasso, Jackson Pollock and Edward Hopper were on view. I’m not sure we really appreciate or understand some of these artworks, but we gave it a try. We did enjoy several sculptures and contemporary artists’ works, many of which were amusing.

There are several aspects of the layout of the museum that were particularly clever and eye catching. For instance, windows and arch entries on the upper level perfectly framed works of art displayed within.

From certain vantage points, we could visualize gallery after gallery after gallery, an unusual and pleasing optical effect that emphasized the size and scope of the museum. It was kind of M. C. Escher-esque.

After a fine albeit very late lunch at the on-site Wisteria Cafe, we made our way to the museum’s diverse and extensive glass collection galleries. From ancient and antique glass pieces to modern glass sculpture, the pieces displayed various techniques of both the practical, as well as creative side of this medium throughout the ages. The Tiffany collection was excellent, but it was the contemporary works of Monir Sharoudy’s mirrors that captured our imaginations. A similar exhibit is currently underway at the Guggenheim in New York, too.

It was late afternoon by the time we headed back to the boat … all “culchah’ed up”. The day was interesting, stimulating and definitely pleasurable. Learning something new everyday was one of my New Year’s Resolutions and I learned lots today. The big challenge now, however, is remembering it!

First off, we read everything we could get on hands on. I’m using the royal “we” here, because honestly it was David who immersed himself in books on sailing and sailboats. He read about trimming sails and heavy weather sailing, about diesel engines and 12V circuitry. I, on the other hand, read Jimmy Cornell’s World Cruising Routes and began subscribing to sailing magazines. I pored through every cruising article I could find, fascinated by all the exotic places we could visit by boat. After all, Earth is 70% water and that seemed like plenty of room for an adventure.

But reading alone doesn’t cut it. We needed some training and experience. There was no Internet then, no on-line sailing classes. We couldn’t just jump onto the computer and do some on-line research. We lived in Colorado and we certainly didn’t have time for 6-weeks of classes. In the summer of 1991 while the kids were away for a week, we participated in a certified sailing course in San Diego with the thought of perhaps bareboat chartering (chartering a sailboat without a captain) in the future.

We wanted to fast track, so we hired a private instructor. Early each morning we spent several hours on-board going over the basic skills of navigation, reading charts, learning about the boat, learning about wind, weather, anchoring … the list went on and on. It seemed overwhelming. I also felt quite nauseous a few times sitting down below in the warm saloon poring over textbooks and charts. I sometimes thought maybe this sailing life was not for me, but the nausea would pass after awhile and I’d get absorbed in the subject matter and forget the seasickness.

In the afternoons, we’d take the boat into San Diego Harbor and sail. I remember an America’s Cup contender sailing circles around us as they practiced maneuvers. The instructor worked us hard on tacking and jibing, sail trimming, safety, navigation rules and line handling. Then we’d practice maneuvers like docking and torque turns over and over again. At the end of the day, the instructor left and we lived on the boat for the week. By the end of the course, we were feeling mildly confident that we could, at least, handle a 35′ sailboat in a protected harbor on a reasonably calm day.

As planned, that following September we booked our first charter with The Moorings in the Caribbean. We arrived in Tortola on a Saturday morning, all geared up and stressed out because the plane was delayed and our luggage was lost. The boat was all provisioned and ready to go. We took the boat out into the harbor and a charter captain put us through our paces with the boat. Satisfied that we could handle ourselves and the boat adequately, he cut us loose with appropriate cautions and we were on our own. Exhilaration and a new sense of freedom combined with apprehension as we puttered out of the marina.

The Moorings provided a recommended route and we stuck to it. We weren’t going far on any given day. Each day, we sailed for awhile, experimenting with the sails, tacking and jibing, wing-on-wing downwind sailing, speeding up and slowing down based on our orientation to the wind. When we weren’t sailing, we were exploring little islands. We visited little towns and walked the beaches. We snorkeled and soaked up the sun and fine weather. The evenings were spent sipping sundowners in the cockpit and watching for the elusive green flash as the tropical sun dipped below the horizon. It was glorious.

One thing we hadn’t practiced with our sailing instructor was anchoring. Nor had we talked about dinghies and dinghy engines, nor how to best secure stuff on board so that when the wind whipped up and the boat heeled, we weren’t pummeled with airborne gear. The weather, however, was settled and the wind was constant which provided a good learning environment. We had done our reading and figured out, sometimes through trial and error, what worked best for us and the boat.

There were so many aspects of sailing we needed to learn like storm tactics, offshore sailing and sailing at night and that didn’t even take into consideration non-sailing issues like general maintenance, engine repair, refrigeration, provisioning, … the list went on and on. At the end of the week, no longer stressed, we leisurely returned to the marina. We had a lot to learn, but this sailing thing might be something we’d enjoy learning more about. We made another charter reservation.

Nowadays, the ASA (American Sailing Assn) offers several on-line options for learning the basics and liveaboard cruising and sailing courses which we highly recommend.

Check back next Monday for another installment of There to Here … Sea Fever, A Lesson Learned … a misstep along the way.

One of the lifestyle adjustments we made when beginning our new life aboard Nine of Cups was water usage. Gone were the days when I did some of my best problem solving while standing under the stream of a long, hot shower. Now, just leaving the water running while brushing my teeth seems like an awful waste of water.

Once we are away from the marina, keeping the tanks filled with potable water becomes a major activity. Even here in Chesapeake City, where we are tied up at a marina, keeping the tanks topped up is a chore since the water along our section of the dock has been shut off for the winter.

Generally, there are four methods of sourcing water. The first, and perhaps best method, is collecting rainwater. We’ve been in several parts of the world where it rained a lot, and collecting all the water we needed was a simple chore. On the other hand, we’ve been in just as many places where rainfall was so sparse that it just wasn’t practical. We’ve tried several approaches – from simply placing buckets in strategic locations around the deck to elaborate troughs sewed into our bimini. This might make a good blog subject in the future.

The second method is desalinating seawater. There are a number of watermakers on the market ranging from simple, low capacity 12 VDC systems to elaborate, high output, engine-driven machines. When we were looking for a desalinator 17 years ago, there were fewer choices, and we went with a small, relatively economical, low output system. We make enough water to keep up with our needs by running it 1 to 1-1/2 hours a day – usually powered from solar and wind energy. We’ve been quite happy with the system, but if we were replacing our watermaker today, I’d definitely take another look at the current options. Our Katadyne system now goes for $4900 – about 50% higher than it did when we bought it

Another option we encountered while in Venezuela, when it was safe to travel there, was the Water-Baby. For a reasonable fee, a small barge would deliver water directly to the anchored boats. It was certainly convenient, but as Marcie reminds me, we both had the trots for a few days.

Then there’s the third and most common method – toting water. There are a number of reasons why this isn’t ideal: the water often tastes bad; it frequently can’t be trusted without adding hydrogen peroxide, making it taste even worse; it’s sometimes costly; and it is always a lot of work. But if the harbor or anchorage is too silty, brackish or polluted to run the watermaker and collecting rainwater isn’t practical, toting water is often the only option.

Not surprisingly, there are a lot of techniques for toting water. Most yachties use water cans of some type or another. The most elaborate scheme we’ve encountered was the dinghy we saw in Puerto Rico that had a semi-permanent tank added, complete with a 12 VDC pump to transfer the water from the dinghy to the boat. Kind of overkill, and I’m not sure how easy it would be to drag it down the beach once the tank was full, but the owner was quite proud of it. The other extreme was the technique Tom Hanks used in Cast Away – empty coconut shells. I’m always a fan of finding a way to ‘re-purpose’ stuff.

We use collapsible, five gallon water jugs. When not in use they collapse, as the name suggests, making them easy to stow – much easier than coconuts. They hold about as much water as I’m comfortable carrying, and I can still lift them up onto the deck from the dinghy. We’ve tried three different brands over the years, and our favorite is, without doubt, the jugs made by Coleman. They have two handles built in, making them easier to pour, and they seem to hold up the longest. Best of all, it is much easier to carry two of these than 40 coconuts.