We pulled Valdesca out of the water today and took her over to NOLS where Rogelio, their boat guy, will sand and paint her bottom with anti-fouling paint. This paint slowly dissipates with time, kind of like soap, and contains a biocide that keeps critters and algae from attaching to the boat. This helps keep the bottom clean to maximize speed through the water. We had to totally de-rig her because Rogelio needed to careen her (meaning flip her upside down). We are buying the paint from another gringo who just had his own boat painted. Total cost for the paint job: $100.
Speaking of prices of things, I find the pricing down here kind of intriguing. Some things cost less, some cost the same. Almost nothing seems to cost more. Of course, there are lots of things you just can't get very readily, so their cost is infinite I suppose. A pack of 10 tortillas costs about a dollar. Eight gallons of reverse osmosis water and 8 lbs of ice cost about $1.25. A fill-up at the gas station costs about $40, similar to home. A kilo of shrimp (2.2 lbs) costs $10. That's an especially good deal. They trawl for the shrimp right here in the bay. Of course, we really shouldn't be eating shrimp at all because trawling is environmentally destructive (lots of by-catch) and the shrimp take is way beyond sustainable. A six-pack of beer (Dos Equis lager) costs a little less, about $.75 per beer. I figure a good working man's beer like Tecate in cans costs less. We'll see what more we can find out about that. Limes are practically free. Avocados are cheap.
Today was hot and sunny and calm. Light winds in the morning as we were pulling out the boat. I saw a few small sailboats venturing out into the bay. Then the winds died totally and all the sea kayakers went out. The tide is especially low right now as we approach the full moon. More beach than ever was exposed at low tide this afternoon and the birds were loving it. We had great blue herons, reddish egrets, gulls, snowy egrets, and eared grebes feeding right out in front of us in the shallows. Now and again a magnificent frigate bird would swoop in and try to steal a fish from a smaller bird. Lots of squawking and diversionary tactics would ensue.
While we were at NOLS, we got to talk more with some of the staff. They gave us tips on rigging a sea anchor when conditions get rough. They told us the Drascombe will actually sail under bare poles in a big blow, allowing you to use the rudder effectively. They said to try it out. We got from them the frequencies of the radio transmissions that will keep us up-to-date on weather. And besides that we met some nice people who were amazed to see us sailing a Drascombe.
The bottom of the boat wasn't as perfect as we had hoped. Rogelio pointed out some gel blisters in the fiberglass. He says it's typical for these boats as they spray on the fiberglass and typically don't get a great coat in corners of the hull. He'll repair the damage with patches on the interior before he paints. That way, we won't be delaying necessary repair. He is also going to replace a piece of brass along the keep that was missing. All in all, it's a good thing we stopped here first as these guys have been an incredible help to us. We have learned a lot about the boats, their rigging, and their maintenance in addition to getting sailing and cruising pointers.
I'll try uploading photos tomorrow. I have a slow connection for some reason. My wi-fi hot spot is a little tepid tonight for some reason.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Wastin away again in margaritaville
Hey all, sitting here on somebody's stoop stealing their wi-fi service. We are at Playa Coyote a few miles south of Mulege, on the Sea of Cortez. The sea is lapping and iridescing about 50 feet from my keyboard. I am writing this beneath a waxing gibbous moon. The tide is coming in, and it should be pretty high as we approach the full moon. We sailed Valdesca today, our second day of sailing. After we got here, we had to wait a couple days for some spanking south winds to die down. It was way too rowdy for us. We are learning the Beaufort wind scale and at about 15 knots of wind, the scale says that there are many horses visible on the sea surface. I take the "horses" to be whitecaps. The first couple days here there were way too many horses out there for us. Today was pretty spunky. We went way out, a couple miles anyway, and then tacked back and forth up the bay a good long ways. We started out with a reef in the main, shook out the reef after a while, put it back in a while later, and then things really got cooking so we took the main down all together and sailed under jib and mizzen. Valdesca sails quite happily on two sails. The waves were getting pretty big--maybe 3 ft rollers--as the wind built up. After about 4 hours we came in because the wind just kept getting stronger and stronger and the waves bigger and bigger. We had quite a little kerfuffle as we doused the main and I couldn't undo a knot I tied earlier and the jib was flogging around like crazy and the jib sheets got all fouled after one of the figure eight knots came out. Tim said later, "Jeez, things can really go to hell fast out here."' Ain's that the truth. The winds down here are ferocious. And the gusts only more so. Our second night, we broke a tent pole and ripped our brand new tent--the North Face minibus. Spent the next day scrounging in Mulege for some way to fix the broken pole. We found a fix, and I patched the tent with a piece of sail fabric. Good as new, almost.
Valdesca sails like a champion. She is beautiful, and happy to be off the trailer and doing what she does best. Tomorrow we pull her out to get the bottom painted. We have made friends with the folks at NOLS and their boat guy is going to paint the bottom. He is also helping us on some other details--a whisker pole for the jib (necessary for so much downwind sailing as we'll be doing going south), a way to mount the stern anchor. We met the director of the sailing program, Roger, from Barcelona, of all places. Great guy, gracious, and very helpful. He made many suggestions for routes, places to visit, stops for water, sites to see, and tricks for Drascombe sailors.
We are likely going to stay here on the beach for a while longer. We have a lot to learn and there's no reason to rush off. We have a gorgeous camp beneath some palms, $5 a night. Can't beat the view and the fresh air. We are on a beach with a bunch of loose nuts from the States. Some great people, who have been very welcoming and helpful with radios, weather reports, and other local knowledge. Will likely go do some geology with one guy who is a raven researcher, among other talents. He has two pairs of ravens here he has been following for years. One pair is Kai and Ote. The other pair is Romeo and Julieta. He says ravens can live for 45 years. His 70th birthday is tomorrow and he is going out in his sea kayak to Coyote Island to spend his birthday with Romeo and Julieta. He says he once saw Julieta using a chapstick tube like a skateboard, pushing off with one foot along the sand. And once Romeo was scooping up sand with a little half sphere of plastic.
We are seeing ospreys, reddish egrets, snowy egrets, phainopeplas, vermilion flycatchers, and gazillions of dolphins. We are eating delicious empanadas stuffed with fruit made my a lady up the road. Vendors come by with fresh shrimp, fresh vegetables, empanadas and tortillas. They bring water and ice, blankets, t-shirts, fish. One guy tonight sold 40 pizzas! That means about every person on this beach but us bought a pizza.
Tap Tapley, who founded the Mexico NOLS program, is right down the way. We met him a few days ago. His was the first house on Coyote Bay, about 30 some years ago.
There is a magnificent house for rent right next to our camp. It's on the water and looks beautiful. We have made friends with the caretakers, Carmen and Manuel. Come on down! Valdesca is anchored right off the beach.
Valdesca sails like a champion. She is beautiful, and happy to be off the trailer and doing what she does best. Tomorrow we pull her out to get the bottom painted. We have made friends with the folks at NOLS and their boat guy is going to paint the bottom. He is also helping us on some other details--a whisker pole for the jib (necessary for so much downwind sailing as we'll be doing going south), a way to mount the stern anchor. We met the director of the sailing program, Roger, from Barcelona, of all places. Great guy, gracious, and very helpful. He made many suggestions for routes, places to visit, stops for water, sites to see, and tricks for Drascombe sailors.
We are likely going to stay here on the beach for a while longer. We have a lot to learn and there's no reason to rush off. We have a gorgeous camp beneath some palms, $5 a night. Can't beat the view and the fresh air. We are on a beach with a bunch of loose nuts from the States. Some great people, who have been very welcoming and helpful with radios, weather reports, and other local knowledge. Will likely go do some geology with one guy who is a raven researcher, among other talents. He has two pairs of ravens here he has been following for years. One pair is Kai and Ote. The other pair is Romeo and Julieta. He says ravens can live for 45 years. His 70th birthday is tomorrow and he is going out in his sea kayak to Coyote Island to spend his birthday with Romeo and Julieta. He says he once saw Julieta using a chapstick tube like a skateboard, pushing off with one foot along the sand. And once Romeo was scooping up sand with a little half sphere of plastic.
We are seeing ospreys, reddish egrets, snowy egrets, phainopeplas, vermilion flycatchers, and gazillions of dolphins. We are eating delicious empanadas stuffed with fruit made my a lady up the road. Vendors come by with fresh shrimp, fresh vegetables, empanadas and tortillas. They bring water and ice, blankets, t-shirts, fish. One guy tonight sold 40 pizzas! That means about every person on this beach but us bought a pizza.
Tap Tapley, who founded the Mexico NOLS program, is right down the way. We met him a few days ago. His was the first house on Coyote Bay, about 30 some years ago.
There is a magnificent house for rent right next to our camp. It's on the water and looks beautiful. We have made friends with the caretakers, Carmen and Manuel. Come on down! Valdesca is anchored right off the beach.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
En Mexico by jingo...
swing the bolo! That phrase recurs to me from my childhood. That was about all I knew of Mexico--bolos and jingos, whatever a jingo is. I'll have to google that. It's been a looooong drive to get here, Guerrero Negro. And we aren't even THERE yet. We might get to Mulege by tonight. Our average highway speed is 40 mph. These aren't four-lane freeways down here, at least south of Ensenada. In fact, the Transpeninsular Highway is a narrow two-lane road with a lot of curves and grades. It is the only highway that runs the length of the peninsula. It was paved in 1974. Before that, it took an unimaginably long time to do this route. Passing through a small town yesterday, where our guide book said in the old days (the 60s) they used to measure out gasoline in a five-gallon container and filter it through a felt hat or a towel, we saw a guy doing that very thing. His trailer of 55 gallon drums of gasoline was positioned strategically across the road from a moribund Pemex gas station. I guess they tried gas stations and they didn't take off.
Last night we stayed in a little hotel in Guerrero Negro. Ahhh, hot showers! And a comfy bed. Our first night out of Tucson, we were looking in Yuma for a state park I saw on the internet. I wanted to stay near the international border so we could get up early, cross the border and jam south. When we discovered the park was closed, we opted for the desert. We found a turnoff from I-8 that led to a dusty dirt road that crossed some railroad tracks. A couple miles out into the desert, we pulled over and set up to sleep in the boat with the cover only partially over us. We were happy we did because after a while it started to sprinkle and all we had to do was pull the cover over top of us. The next night, we spent in Lazaro Cardenas, and it truly rained. We tried the same stunt, sleeping in the boat. But the rain kept dripping on us and the boat cover filled up like a swimming pool, pushing down on my legs. Tim had to get out in the middle of the night and get the water off and tighten the tarp. From then on, it was like sleeping in a sarcophagus, with the tarp about one inch off our faces. I am not generally claustrophobic but I had to work on myself to not freak out. Getting out of that spot next day, an inlet of the Pacific called Bahia de San Quintin, we had to slip-slide on the mud for kilometers back to the main road.
Tim is doing the driving. It's like threading a needle all day long. The boat trailer is just a little wider than the car, so he has to constantly think about positioning the rig in our lane so we don't scrape the semis going by in the opposite direction. Today, more of the same.
The scenery is magnificent, although it rained off and on all yesterday. I am following a geologic field guide that necessitates keeping track of the mileage markers and landmarks. I am juggling a map, a field guide, the GPS, and my field notebook on my lap. And the camera. Now and then, when the fog lifts, we stop to shoot a few photos. Today it's sunny, fortunately, so the driving should be a little easier.
Last night we crossed into Baja California Sur. It's kind of disturbing to cross a state line and go through a military checkpoint and get sprayed with insecticide. We had to pay 10 pesos for that privilege. I felt like saying, "No, I don't want the spray." Military checkpoints are everywhere down here as they fight this losing battle against the influx of drugs into the US.
More later when we get to a stopping place. For now, the whales in Scammon's Lagoon will have to wait for us as we head down the peninsula.
Last night we stayed in a little hotel in Guerrero Negro. Ahhh, hot showers! And a comfy bed. Our first night out of Tucson, we were looking in Yuma for a state park I saw on the internet. I wanted to stay near the international border so we could get up early, cross the border and jam south. When we discovered the park was closed, we opted for the desert. We found a turnoff from I-8 that led to a dusty dirt road that crossed some railroad tracks. A couple miles out into the desert, we pulled over and set up to sleep in the boat with the cover only partially over us. We were happy we did because after a while it started to sprinkle and all we had to do was pull the cover over top of us. The next night, we spent in Lazaro Cardenas, and it truly rained. We tried the same stunt, sleeping in the boat. But the rain kept dripping on us and the boat cover filled up like a swimming pool, pushing down on my legs. Tim had to get out in the middle of the night and get the water off and tighten the tarp. From then on, it was like sleeping in a sarcophagus, with the tarp about one inch off our faces. I am not generally claustrophobic but I had to work on myself to not freak out. Getting out of that spot next day, an inlet of the Pacific called Bahia de San Quintin, we had to slip-slide on the mud for kilometers back to the main road.
Tim is doing the driving. It's like threading a needle all day long. The boat trailer is just a little wider than the car, so he has to constantly think about positioning the rig in our lane so we don't scrape the semis going by in the opposite direction. Today, more of the same.
The scenery is magnificent, although it rained off and on all yesterday. I am following a geologic field guide that necessitates keeping track of the mileage markers and landmarks. I am juggling a map, a field guide, the GPS, and my field notebook on my lap. And the camera. Now and then, when the fog lifts, we stop to shoot a few photos. Today it's sunny, fortunately, so the driving should be a little easier.
Last night we crossed into Baja California Sur. It's kind of disturbing to cross a state line and go through a military checkpoint and get sprayed with insecticide. We had to pay 10 pesos for that privilege. I felt like saying, "No, I don't want the spray." Military checkpoints are everywhere down here as they fight this losing battle against the influx of drugs into the US.
More later when we get to a stopping place. For now, the whales in Scammon's Lagoon will have to wait for us as we head down the peninsula.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Tucson!
Made it to Tucson. Four hours down boredom boulevard, turn right at Hatch, and then 4 more hours to Tucson. I worked for a couple hours on a paper while Tim drove. Stopped at a million dollar bathroom and pulled out some tahini, bread and carrots for lunch. Then I snored while Tim drove. Hatch looked kinda cool. Hot Damm Chile. Chile Willie's. Hatch is famous for its chile--red or green. Found some coffee at Sparky's Espresso.
At dusk, east of Tucson, we drove through a zone of rounded granite boulders in Texas Canyon that reminded us of Joshua Tree National Monument where we did a lot of climbing while I was in grad school. Cochise Stronghold in the distance was blood red in the setting sun. The traffic got a little intense near Tucson. Leo's directions got us to their house without much confusion. Parked out front, met their new puppy Sukie and their old puppy Olive. Leo grilled up some slabs of steak with mushrooms, green chile, and a roasted red pepper-garlic-olive oil sauce.
For breakfast we have requested the Leo Special, a Fiesta de Bacon! And some exercise before we get back in the car to go to Yuma. Our Christmas present from Leo and Leslie is a new door handle for the Nissan! Leo found one at a Tucson auto parts store. Que milagro! Now we won't need therapy over letting each other in the passenger side door.
Houston, we have lift off!
We're out the door at 9:30 AM, Saturday. First stop, Tucson. We should arrive there by 7 PM. I just broke the door handle off the Nissan. So let's hope that's the only untoward thing that happens all day!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Almost legal
As you may recall, today was the day for MVD Express, the long-awaited chance to finally get a NM title to Valdesca. I left the house with my folder of paper, with Tim asking me if I had it all in order. Yes, yes, yes, see you later. Got to MVD Express with a bag of knitting for the anticipated lengthy wait. Got called up to the counter before I had my knitting out of the bag. Well, this looks promising. I told an abbreviated sob story to Al while shuffling paper to find what I needed to show him. I pulled out the MD title only to realize that I had forgotten to sign for the previous owner. Uhhhh, "I forget to get something I need from the car." "That's OK," Al responded, "we've got plenty of time." Out in the car, I practiced my orthography, filled in the blanks on the title and then hustled back inside. Things were kind of touch and go there for a while as Al's computer balked at the beam width and length; the computer didn't like it when the boat was wider than it was long. Sheesh. I had to call Tim for the MD registration number. Then I started to worry that we had wanted the title in my name OR his, not just mine. But would Al make me get Tim's signature? That would mean a half hour to get back home, a return trip to Santa Fe, and then all my other errands. Al seemed to be copacetic with just one of us signing. I had to call Tim back for his social security number. Fortunately, he and Lee were huddled over the Thursday crossword waiting for calls. It was especially dicey when Al started piling up papers and telling me that we could finish when the stickers arrived. I told him that we wanted to clear out of Santa Fe and get the sticker FedEx'd to us en route. "Well, when are you leaving?" "Tomorrow at 10:30 right after we pick up a strut at Pep Boys." "Oh." And and and I was worried that we were getting close to 90 days since we bought the boat and would incur a penalty if we didn't get it titled before Feb 2 (which is the truth; we bought the boat Nov 2). Al said, "Oh, we can just do the title then." Yeeeeeees (breathe in, breathe out). Eventually he got around to printing out the title and calculating the taxes. I wrote the check and passed pleasantries, all the while maniacally knitting while standing at the counter. The way we left it, I would send somebody in with a copy of the title to get the registration and we would have it before we put the boat in the water.
Phew! Dripping relief, I went out to the car and called Tim. "Well, I got the title. But I locked the keys in the car." Happily, Lee was about to head to Santa Fe, and he could meet me somewhere with a key. I told Tim, as I looked around at the not-terribly exciting landscape of St Michael's Drive, that I would be at Molly's Kitchen and Lounge. I strolled over there and walked in, not having eaten at Molly's Kitchen since it moved from downtown about 30 years ago. It was like a morgue in there, at 11 AM. The sign said OPEN so I sat down at a table and started to knit. After a good long while, and a few beer deliveries, a guy passed by an open door and saw me. "Are you open?" I asked him. They were. I ordered some lunch as I waited for Lee, who arrived as I was finishing. Good thing I wasn't writing a restaurant review because Molly's wouldn't have gotten even one chile. We visited awhile, as Lee likes to do, and I headed off to complete my round of errands, which included some clothes shopping at REI, copying our precious boat and trailer titles, and a few other details. I parked near REI and paid 75 cents for 45 minutes of parking. I managed to get out of REI with a FEW shillings left in our bank account, walked back to the car, picked the parking ticket off the windshield, had a good laugh, and went home. Can't say I have ever locked the keys in the car AND gotten a parking ticket in the same day. But at least we can leave town now.
Phew! Dripping relief, I went out to the car and called Tim. "Well, I got the title. But I locked the keys in the car." Happily, Lee was about to head to Santa Fe, and he could meet me somewhere with a key. I told Tim, as I looked around at the not-terribly exciting landscape of St Michael's Drive, that I would be at Molly's Kitchen and Lounge. I strolled over there and walked in, not having eaten at Molly's Kitchen since it moved from downtown about 30 years ago. It was like a morgue in there, at 11 AM. The sign said OPEN so I sat down at a table and started to knit. After a good long while, and a few beer deliveries, a guy passed by an open door and saw me. "Are you open?" I asked him. They were. I ordered some lunch as I waited for Lee, who arrived as I was finishing. Good thing I wasn't writing a restaurant review because Molly's wouldn't have gotten even one chile. We visited awhile, as Lee likes to do, and I headed off to complete my round of errands, which included some clothes shopping at REI, copying our precious boat and trailer titles, and a few other details. I parked near REI and paid 75 cents for 45 minutes of parking. I managed to get out of REI with a FEW shillings left in our bank account, walked back to the car, picked the parking ticket off the windshield, had a good laugh, and went home. Can't say I have ever locked the keys in the car AND gotten a parking ticket in the same day. But at least we can leave town now.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Gearing up
I want to tell you about the whole process of gearing up for this trip but it's a long story and will take several installments. All I can say is thank god for the internet and UPS. How else would you gear up for an ocean sailing expedition from a landlocked high-altitude desert? We hatched the plan to buy a sailboat and go to Mexico about four months ago, in September. I initially figured we'd go in February. That would leave plenty of time to find a boat, buy it, gear up, pack, and get there. My doctor, however, intimated that I might want to go sooner if not right away. We didn't even have the boat though! I put on my old logistics sergeant hat and went at it like a fiend. Some days I spent 12 hours reading books, ordering more books, making lists, searching for gear, searching for deals on gear, ordering, and dragging stuff out of closets and sheds. It may be a small boat, but the task of outfitting it for a three-month cruise ("a three hour tour") is monumental. First there is the gear that pertains to the boat: sails, oars, motor, lines, anchors, anchor rodes, gas can, ladder, fenders, battery-powered running lights, boat hook, fire extinguisher, fiberglass repair kit, motor repair kit, sail repair kit, spare hardware. Then there is the navigation and safety stuff: charts, parallel rules, dividers, protractor, china markers, compass, GPS and digital charts, cruising guides and weather books specific to the Gulf of California, VHF radio, single sideband shortwave radio, logbook, waterproof binoculars with rangefinder, hand bearing compass, first aid kit, life vests, whistles, strobes in case we fall overboard, red flares and orange smoke flares (night vs day), SPOT GPS tracker, a dinghy (and paddles), a ditch bag with survival gear. And the stuff for camping on the boat and onshore: a tent that fits over the cockpit of the boat, a tent for shore camping, burly stakes that will hold a tent down on a beach in a big wind (for which Baja is famous), sleeping pads, sleeping bags and fuzzy fleece liners, a lantern and headlamps, a loo (of some sort). Lots of thinking went into gear for cooking, eating, and hydrating: a two-burner propane stove, a slick fiberglass propane tank that weighs half what the steel ones weigh (and floats!), an aluminum dry box for all the kitchen gear, a cooler (for the beer!), 7-gallon water jugs, 2.5-gallon collapsible water jugs, 10-liter Dromedary bags for storing in the bilge in case of water shortage, gear for a solar still, dry bags for storing dry food, a kitchen tarp for either the boat or the beach, fishing gear (rod and trolling lines). Then we have our personal gear: foul weather pants and jacket, boat shoes, layers of polypro and fleece ("engineered clothing" as my sister Anne calls it), sunhats, sunglasses, sunscreen, bathing suits, flip flops, snorkeling gear, rashguard shirts and nylon pants, waterproof camera (16 Gb of memory oughta do it). Tim has his art stuff and I have my knitting stuff. I also have a lot of geology stuff; never leave home without it: rock hammer, Brunton compass, sample bags (there's always some rock that wants to come home with me), hand lens, field notebooks, a waterproof box full of Baja geology literature. We also have a waterproof box full of books on marine mammals (whales and dolpins), tide pool critters, Baja plants (they are weird; ever see a Boojum?), Baja fishing guide, birds, marine first aid, and forecasting weather. Don't forget the folding chairs and rolling table! I don't think the table is going to fit. But the chairs are the difference between a good trip and a bad trip. They are going if I have to strap them to the transom.
More thought than you can imagine went into every decision about every thing we are taking along. Confronted with running GPS, VHF, SPOT, strobes, shortwave, flashlights, lantern, computer (oh yeah, don't forget the laptop in a waterproof Pelican case), walkie talkies (so I can go pound on rocks while Tim paints), and camera, we decided we'd rather rig up a solar panel than fill a dump with three months' worth of batteries. That decision meant finding a solar panel suitable for a marine environment and a deep cycle marine battery as well as DC chargers for everything. The solar panel is waterproof (and folds up to the size of a small paperback book) and can be mounted on deck, but the battery isn't and has to live in a dry bag. A side note: the deep cycle battery has a built-in air compressor (for flat tires on the drive to and from) and jumper cables; the engineer that thought this one up gets a gold star. I wasn't even looking for those options. We have a sack full of electronics parts. I finally had to label all the DC chargers with adhesive tape so I could tell which one is which. Of course, no two items use the same charger; I checked. I want to mention here some of the gizmos we AREN'T taking. No sat phone, no satellite modem for the laptop, no EPIRB (another kind of locating beacon), no HAM radio, no chart plotter, no LORAN, no fish finder, no electric razor, no iPhone-iPod or other iGizmo. No margarita maker. And the boat doesn't have a cabin. We're going minimalist.
More thought than you can imagine went into every decision about every thing we are taking along. Confronted with running GPS, VHF, SPOT, strobes, shortwave, flashlights, lantern, computer (oh yeah, don't forget the laptop in a waterproof Pelican case), walkie talkies (so I can go pound on rocks while Tim paints), and camera, we decided we'd rather rig up a solar panel than fill a dump with three months' worth of batteries. That decision meant finding a solar panel suitable for a marine environment and a deep cycle marine battery as well as DC chargers for everything. The solar panel is waterproof (and folds up to the size of a small paperback book) and can be mounted on deck, but the battery isn't and has to live in a dry bag. A side note: the deep cycle battery has a built-in air compressor (for flat tires on the drive to and from) and jumper cables; the engineer that thought this one up gets a gold star. I wasn't even looking for those options. We have a sack full of electronics parts. I finally had to label all the DC chargers with adhesive tape so I could tell which one is which. Of course, no two items use the same charger; I checked. I want to mention here some of the gizmos we AREN'T taking. No sat phone, no satellite modem for the laptop, no EPIRB (another kind of locating beacon), no HAM radio, no chart plotter, no LORAN, no fish finder, no electric razor, no iPhone-iPod or other iGizmo. No margarita maker. And the boat doesn't have a cabin. We're going minimalist.
Things are heating up!
Yesterday, our cute UPS man Armando brought by our new propeller. Shiny black freshly painted reconditioned used propeller. Fits perfectly. I tried it because I didn't believe it would. Tim was worried (excited?) that we might be in countdown mode so he rushed off to Santa Fe to buy some batteries for the kitty collars, deposit a check, go to the MVD to get a copy of the VIN number inspection form and then to the MVD Express to see if they are saving us a 2009 registration sticker (they aren't). Meanwhile I went out to the mailbox about every twenty minutes to see if the title had arrived from Maryland. Ralph the mailman was off duty today, though, and the other guy was slow so the mail arrived late. But the title got here! Along with a few loose ends--a yellow pennant that will fly from the top of the gunter (the thingie that holds up the top of the mainsail since the sail is a quadrilateral not a triangle), a transparent dry bag for the "yacht" log, and a snap shackle to connect the jib to the stemhead (arrrrgggh, mateys! Got your sealegs yet?). We also got two yards of sail fabric for repairs (what was I thinking? I could make a whole mizzen sail out of two yards). When Tim got back from Fanta Se, he vacuumed out the Nissan (about 3 years' worth of sand and gravel and a bunch of old pens and pencils and lip balm containers), while I went to the store to get some ziplocs for my wool that is getting moth-eaten, more lithium batteries (I am having doubts about our solar panel), and some chlorox for our seaside dish-washing. This evening, I organized my knitting projects. I always try to keep it to a minimum on the knitting, until the last minute, when I start fearing I won't have enough to do. Tomorrow I get to do the duty at MVD Express. Barring more issues, we should be rolling SOON.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
What a saga!
I don't know why we are being thwarted at every step, but this is getting ridiculous. Today we went to the Santa Fe MVD with the boat on the trailer, arriving by 8:15 AM. I got number 26 this time. I sat there for a few minutes, listening to the numbers being called in English and then Spanish. Number 26 popped up in no time. We gave our documents to Shirley, and she informed us that we could title the trailer and boat but we could not register the boat today as they did not have the stickers available yet. Oh boy. But some lady on the telephone had said specifically that the stickers were not at issue. Oh yes they are! No amount of groveling would make her budge. She said we could title everything but no registration until the stickers show up in February or March.
Next, we got to know Julie. She is a vehicle identification inspector. I asked if we could have one of last year's stickers (remember last year was only 5 days ago). Nope. I said I didn't care if it I had to pay for two years but only got one. Still no. They all got a memo yesterday that said they can't give out last year's stickers. She was so sorry... Only title today, folks. Then come back in February or sometime after that.
We dragged outside to the boat and Julie began her inspection. The trailer number passed inspection (LOL), but we couldn't find the boat hull identification number. Tim crawled all over the boat and couldn't find it. I finally called Lee, our housesitter (sitting our house with us in it), and asked him to look thru my email to find David's phone number (David is the previous owner) so I could call him and ask where the hull ID is. Left a message. Slumped down in the front seat of the car. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sometimes that's so hard to remember. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Julie told us that we would have to go the State Police about the hull ID number. Recall we narrowly avoided the State Police on the trailer ID. At this point, Tim decided maybe we could get SOMETHING accomplished. He went back in and a while later returned with the trailer title and a license plate! We were just about to roll out of there, resigned to our January 22nd appointment with the State Police, when David called. "The hull ID number is inside the starboard bow on the gunwale." Aggggghhhh! Sure enough, it was there, under an old washcloth that he had taped on to keep a cleat from abrading the boat cover. Back in went Tim. Out came Julie. She was happy with the number. Back into the office. Back out came Tim and Julie to look at the number again. Strange... Into the office. And finally Tim came back to the car. "So, did you get the title?" No. Somebody at the Maryland MVD is dyslexic. They transposed two letters in the hull ID number so we have to get a replacement title from Maryland." OMG. This development called for a stop at the Tesuque Village Market for a pecan roll and a latte. Eaten in gloom. I called David to tell him about this new development ("I see a trip to the MD MVD in your future..."). He allowed that this really couldn't be very difficult; all we would have to do is scan the title and email to the MVD. I told him that if his MVD was as disfunctional as ours, we might as well sink the boat.
It turns out though that there is intelligent life at the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, where boats, which are not considered motor vehicles, are registered back there. Sheritta is going to be head of her department if she isn't already. We were worried when she didn't call back after we left several messages. When she did, however, she confirmed what she had told David earlier--that all we needed to do was send her the original title, she would research it to find out where the fault lay, and then provide us with a new title. She asked for the boat number (its current registration) and called back 5 minutes later to say that she had looked it up and found that, yes, somebody in their office transposed the letters on the original title. Tim rounded up the documents, I wrote a quick letter to Sheritta, and Tim rushed off to mail the title posthaste. Well, the US Postal Service doesn't really do posthaste. Their rush delivery will arrive Thursday. That's the day after tomorrow.
As for the registration sticker, we thought about who we know who could call the governor, but instead called MVD Express, a private contractor that will provide MVD services for a fee. One of the only good things Gary Johnson did as governor. I asked about getting a sticker from last year, and guess what? Yes, we can do that! Once we get the title, of course.
Ah, life in a banana republic.
Next, we got to know Julie. She is a vehicle identification inspector. I asked if we could have one of last year's stickers (remember last year was only 5 days ago). Nope. I said I didn't care if it I had to pay for two years but only got one. Still no. They all got a memo yesterday that said they can't give out last year's stickers. She was so sorry... Only title today, folks. Then come back in February or sometime after that.
We dragged outside to the boat and Julie began her inspection. The trailer number passed inspection (LOL), but we couldn't find the boat hull identification number. Tim crawled all over the boat and couldn't find it. I finally called Lee, our housesitter (sitting our house with us in it), and asked him to look thru my email to find David's phone number (David is the previous owner) so I could call him and ask where the hull ID is. Left a message. Slumped down in the front seat of the car. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sometimes that's so hard to remember. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Julie told us that we would have to go the State Police about the hull ID number. Recall we narrowly avoided the State Police on the trailer ID. At this point, Tim decided maybe we could get SOMETHING accomplished. He went back in and a while later returned with the trailer title and a license plate! We were just about to roll out of there, resigned to our January 22nd appointment with the State Police, when David called. "The hull ID number is inside the starboard bow on the gunwale." Aggggghhhh! Sure enough, it was there, under an old washcloth that he had taped on to keep a cleat from abrading the boat cover. Back in went Tim. Out came Julie. She was happy with the number. Back into the office. Back out came Tim and Julie to look at the number again. Strange... Into the office. And finally Tim came back to the car. "So, did you get the title?" No. Somebody at the Maryland MVD is dyslexic. They transposed two letters in the hull ID number so we have to get a replacement title from Maryland." OMG. This development called for a stop at the Tesuque Village Market for a pecan roll and a latte. Eaten in gloom. I called David to tell him about this new development ("I see a trip to the MD MVD in your future..."). He allowed that this really couldn't be very difficult; all we would have to do is scan the title and email to the MVD. I told him that if his MVD was as disfunctional as ours, we might as well sink the boat.
It turns out though that there is intelligent life at the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, where boats, which are not considered motor vehicles, are registered back there. Sheritta is going to be head of her department if she isn't already. We were worried when she didn't call back after we left several messages. When she did, however, she confirmed what she had told David earlier--that all we needed to do was send her the original title, she would research it to find out where the fault lay, and then provide us with a new title. She asked for the boat number (its current registration) and called back 5 minutes later to say that she had looked it up and found that, yes, somebody in their office transposed the letters on the original title. Tim rounded up the documents, I wrote a quick letter to Sheritta, and Tim rushed off to mail the title posthaste. Well, the US Postal Service doesn't really do posthaste. Their rush delivery will arrive Thursday. That's the day after tomorrow.
As for the registration sticker, we thought about who we know who could call the governor, but instead called MVD Express, a private contractor that will provide MVD services for a fee. One of the only good things Gary Johnson did as governor. I asked about getting a sticker from last year, and guess what? Yes, we can do that! Once we get the title, of course.
Ah, life in a banana republic.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Got a prop!
Just found out our replacement propeller is on the way! Should arrive in a few days. Thanks to thepropshop in Tacoma, WA.
Getting ready to go
I am a PhD geologist and my husband Tim is a painter. I have had cancer three times in the last five years. Recently, I got a clean bill of health and decided it was time for an adventure. When I was doing my PhD thesis field work in Baja CA, I wanted to kayak the length of the peninsula, but I had to write my thesis first. Fifteen years later, it's time. But we are going to sail instead of paddle because Tim couldn't imagine three months sitting in a sea kayak. Our boat is a 21 ft sailboat with oars and a small auxiliary outboard motor. It is an open boat--no cabin. We will be sailing in the Sea of Cortez in January thru March. We are going to start in Mulege and sail south to Cabo. Then we'll trailer the boat back north to San Felipe and sail south to Mulege. We are doing it in two parts, rather than sailing from San Felipe to Cabo, because I have to go while the gettin' is good. And I know from my field work down there that in January in the northern Gulf it can blow like stink. So we'll start farther south and do the northern Gulf later. When I was 20 yrs old, I sailed and rowed from Maine to Florida with six friends on a 30 ft open boat. It took us three months. Tim and I are going alone on this trip. Friends will meet us along the way and do some sailing with us. We are waiting on a new propeller, and then we'll get started.
Current hurdle: Registering the boat and trailer
Last week we went to the MVD in Los Alamos to title and register the boat and trailer. I sat inside knitting, and Tim sat outside in the car with the boat on the trailer, for more than an hour. When my number "38" finally popped up, I handed the clerk all my paperwork. He shuffled thru it all and hmmd a bit and twisted his face and then asked me "Where is Tim?" I said, "Outside in the car." Well, he needed to see him because we had variously filled in his name as Tim and Timothy and Timothy A. and Tim A. We had to go get a form notarized showing that all of these Tims are one and the same Tim. Snore. So we did that. We returned to find the clerk circling the boat and trailer with a quizzical look on his face. He couldn't find the VIN number on the trailer. Which meant that the process could not continue. What do we do if there is no number on the trailer? Because there wasn't. Just a sun-faded plastic sticker that obviously used to have the VIN number on it. He told us we had to go the State Police for an inspection. He didn't know where the State Police do their inspections. Nor did he know how to arrange for one. But he did know that it wasn't worth looking at the boat, or at the trailer lights that Tim had laboriously just made functional. We couldn't advance one step farther without the trailer's VIN number. So we drove back down the hill to our house with the boat in tow. I called the State Police only to find out that the next available appointment is January 22. The State Police would likely assign us a new number if they found no number on the trailer. All of this despite the fact that I have a sheaf of documents that show what the VIN number is. I got off the phone and Tim said, "I think we should get a set of metal punches and emboss the number on the trailer and go try a different MVD." A little searching on the internet showed that other owners of 1980s vintage Highlander trailers have had the same problem--and resolved it the same way. We'll see what happens this week with the registration.
We rigged and derigged Valdesca a couple times this weekend to make sure we have everything we need and know what we are doing. We don't want to look like a couple of yahoos upon arrival in Baja. Pete and Jane came up on Sunday and we crawled all over the boat evaluating the functionality of this or that and pondering upgrades. We decided not to rig the new sails just yet. We'll go with the old ones to start with. Tim, the guy whose sailing experience amounts to 15 minutes on a sunfish, figured out how to rig the whisker pole. Pete and I couldn't figure out if it was for the jib or the main. Or how to afix the end of the pole to the sail. Tim said, "What about that slantwise pocket in the clew of the main?" Duh, Gilbert. Then, he said, "And I think the end with the yoke goes partway up the mainmast so that the pole is at the same angle as the pocket." So much for experience. In short order, mark my words, Tim will be the Skipper and I will be Gilligan.
We rigged and derigged Valdesca a couple times this weekend to make sure we have everything we need and know what we are doing. We don't want to look like a couple of yahoos upon arrival in Baja. Pete and Jane came up on Sunday and we crawled all over the boat evaluating the functionality of this or that and pondering upgrades. We decided not to rig the new sails just yet. We'll go with the old ones to start with. Tim, the guy whose sailing experience amounts to 15 minutes on a sunfish, figured out how to rig the whisker pole. Pete and I couldn't figure out if it was for the jib or the main. Or how to afix the end of the pole to the sail. Tim said, "What about that slantwise pocket in the clew of the main?" Duh, Gilbert. Then, he said, "And I think the end with the yoke goes partway up the mainmast so that the pole is at the same angle as the pocket." So much for experience. In short order, mark my words, Tim will be the Skipper and I will be Gilligan.
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