S.V. CAMBRIA

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Wednesday, September 20, 2017TheCambrians

Filling In the Blanks (Part Two)

Wednesday, July 19, 2017TheCambrians

We’re in between “homes” right now, sitting at anchor in a little village north of Kingston trying to decide our next move. WiFi is hit and miss and the signal through the cellphone isn’t much better – three bars of “edge” coverage. So, it’s taken some time to update the blog with the second part of our recent stay in the hardstand (you can read the first part here). Here’s how I left things:

Over Memorial Day Weekend, we were approaching Tacoma Narrows when our prop snagged a plastic bag that was hidden below the surface. The following week, we scheduled an emergency haulout in Swantown Boatworks where David checked the prop and the shaft for damage. Everything checked out okay and Cambria was dropped back in the water on Thursday. David engaged the engine while the Travelift waited on standby in case there was a problem: We had rear propulsion back and the ticking sound that was coming from the prop was gone, so we tied up to the work dock for the night with plans to leave the following morning with the tide.

Encore, Encore!

Did you know props can sing? They can. Not very well, mind you. Some props just do it (something to do with propeller diameter, rpm, boat speed, trailing-edge size and “roundness” of the blade and includes complicated math that I have no interest in exploring). But ours never has. Not until that Friday.

We untied our lines and started to make our way up Bud Inlet. Everything was fine until we cleared the marina. We upped the throttle and started to hear a strange noise a few minutes later. It sounded like a work whistle from adjacent lumberyard; but it persisted. I stuck my head outside the cockpit for a better “look” and the sound faded. It wasn’t them, after all. It was us: We would have to come out of the water again.

We turned around and slowly made our way back to the work dock. A little research and a few phone calls later and we learned the prop was most likely out of balance – something that wasn’t apparent until we reached a high enough speed and had enough water flowing past it. It would have to be sent to the shop for service, a process that could take two or three weeks.

The boatyard was busy and couldn’t schedule us to haulout until Monday, so we stayed put for the weekend. We were joined by Mike and Melissa from Little Cunning Plan who had completed their time in the hardstand – the lucky buggers. We didn’t get to socialize much, though. As luck would have it, we both had family coming into town.

David got a call from his eldest son, John, Friday night. On a whim, he and his husband, Craig, decided to cash in some air miles and fly up to Seattle for the weekend. So we rented a car on Saturday and joined them for drinks at a local brewery. We had such a great time! So good, in fact, that we didn’t get back to Olympia until two in the morning and had to call security to let us in the boatyard. Needless to say, Sunday was a day of rest as we waited to start the process all over again.

Monday afternoon arrived and we were on the hard once more, using the day to remove the prop and shaft again. This time David brought the shaft over to a local shop and had it bench tested, and it was 70/1000 out of alignment (our shaft has a 30 mm diameter). The damage had been hiding at the point where the shaft tapers down to meet the prop.

Back to Seattle

Another day and another rental car later, we brought the shaft and prop to Seattle. The news wasn’t good. The bend on the shaft couldn’t be straightened and a new one would have to be made. Surprisingly, it only took one day and the company, Sound Propeller Services, delivered it to us in Olympia on Wednesday where it sat for another week or so waiting for its mate, MaxProp, to arrive.

For those of you with a MaxProp in the Seattle area, there are two places to have your prop serviced – PYI and the other is the PropShop, Ltd (as opposed to the three other Prop Shops in town). Word to the wise – don’t bring your prop to PYI. They’re more expensive, take longer, and don’t actually do the work themselves – they send it to the PropShop, Ltd. So you might as well cut out the middle man and save a little time and money.

From then on, all we could do was wait. I’d polished the hull the week before and had done the anti-fouling on our last haul-out (which was only seven months ago). Olympia’s a pretty nice little city, but there’s not a lot to do outside of visiting the restaurants, cafés, and bars – none of which appeals to us. We could have taken a tour of the Capitol building, but somehow forgot all about that distraction – probably too busy feeling sorry for ourselves.

It was more than a week later when we learned what was wrong with the prop: Three of the internal gears had been damaged – all from a ridiculous plastic bag. In hindsight, it makes sense. The amount of torque applied was enough to make us believe we’d hit a log. And when David ran the numbers, he came up with an applied force ranging somewhere between 950 and 1,000 pounds: We should’ve known better than to think we’d gotten away (relatively) scot-free.

Our insurance company’s marine surveyor said we needed to replace the cutlass bearing (something we’d just done in October), which David organized through Aloft Marine in Swantown. The shaft is 30mm but the stern leg is an inch and three-quarters – a metric and imperial mix. They do make cutlass bearings like that, but they apparently take a long time to come in. The closest we could get on short notice was a 30 x 45 mm bearing which then had to be set on a lathe to turn the outside diameter down to 1 ¾ inches. With the old bearing pressed out and the new one in place, David could install the new shaft.

We took painful measures to make sure the shaft was clean – one little burr or piece of dirt could catch on the dripless stern gland seal and damage it – and carefully slid it into place only to discover it wouldn’t marry up with the transmission coupling. So, out it came. David used a piece of 800-grit wet sandpaper to polish the end of the shaft and we tried again. Success . . . sort of.

The engine was slightly out of alignment. We scratched our heads a bit and, in the end, decided the new cutlass bearing was the most likely culprit. I won’t bore you with the details other than to say that accessing all four engine mounts to make the adjustments is a job better suited to a small child than an adult male and David came out of it battered, bruised, and dripping with blood. But he finished the job and all we had to do then was wait for the prop arrive.

Sound Propeller Services, the company that made our shaft, offered to deliver our MaxProp from the Prop Shop, Ltd, so we were saved the trouble of renting another car and dealing with the Seattle traffic. It arrived late on a Friday, which meant we couldn’t get back in the water until Monday (as a standby). We’d already been out of the water for three weeks so what’s a couple more days, right? Wrong.

It's a Heat Wave

The weather had been heating up over the course of the week and we were struggling to keep the boat cool (and by “cool” I mean under 90°F), so our goal was to get back in the water before the weekend when the local forecast was calling for 93°F on Saturday and 97°F on Sunday. It wasn’t meant to be.

We had a backup plan – renting a hotel room for a couple of days. But there was a job to be done and David was determined to do it. It wasn’t easy. The prop had to be reassembled in place and there wasn’t much for shade near the stern of the boat. The best he could do was work a little, take a break in the shade, wipe away the sweat, and get back to it.

If you’ve never seen a MaxProp disassembled, it’s a lot like one of those wooden puzzle cubes – every piece fits together in a specific way. First comes the hub, which is secured to the shaft. Next is the spinner, the gears and, finally, the blades. If any one of the pieces isn’t put back together perfectly, the whole thing is wrong (the pitch being the most obvious problem but we know of a situation where the prop ran in reverse when the transmission was in forward). It’s a complex little machine. Clever. But complex, nonetheless.

The MaxProp had been restored to factory original and, the clearances were very tight, so David had to hand-fit it as well. That meant taking it all apart, easing the clearances by lightly sanding the surfaces, and putting it all back together. And that was that. The job was done.

We’d survived the yard and the heat wave. The boat was ready and so were we. Now all we needed was Monday to roll around and for somebody to cancel so we could get back in the water. As luck would have it, someone did. And this time when we left Olympia, no siren called us back to its shores – we were free to go anywhere we chose. So we did.

Boat Maintenance Living Aboard a Boat South Sound

Filling In the Blanks (Part One)

Monday, July 10, 2017TheCambrians

I have a little confession to make. I wrote a blog post called “Inspiration Can Be Overrated” a few weeks ago which ended with a promise to write about our misadventures in Southern Puget Sound and included teasers of a singing prop, a surprise visit from David’s sons, and finally meeting Mike and Melissa from Little Cunning Plan. And then I forgot all about it . . . until now.

Be warned. It’s a long story. So long in fact, that I decided to split it in two. Here’s part one – the South Sound to Swantown Boat Works.

South Sound

David and I’d been threatening to sail down Puget Sound for months; so when the Port of Kingston needed to open up a few more spaces in guest moorage to accommodate boats over Memorial Day weekend, we finally made good on our threat.

Things were going well. We slipped back into life at anchor easily and were enjoying all of the things we love so much about cruising – dining in the cockpit, kayaking, finding the time to play the guitar (David) and to draw (me). And then we went through Tacoma Narrows.

The current through the narrows ranges anywhere from 0 to 5 knots, depending on the tide. As we approached, it was running slightly in our favour and the water was “active”. We could see a rip line ahead of us with debris gathered in it, but we had a clear path and went through. When we did we heard a sound that made our hearts sink – bang! A direct hit on the prop.

We put the motor in neutral and looked behind us, expecting to see a log come up, but there was nothing there. Back in gear and moving forward, we felt a slight vibration from the engine but it seemed to settle down so we continued to Carr Inlet where we anchored off the home of some friends. We thought we’d dodged a bullet; but when David put the boat into reverse to set the anchor, we didn’t have any rear propulsion and there was a “ticking” sound was coming from the prop: We were going to need to haulout.

I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointing this was. Heartbreaking, really. I still haven’t blogged about it (some things are better off forgotten), but we’d just spent four weeks on the hard last October while David worked through the driveline – new engine mounts, a new flexible coupling, a new dripless shaft seal, and a new cutlass bearing. Needless to say, it was an expensive endeavour and we were looking at doing it all over again (the four weeks and the expense, that is).

Swantown Boat Works, Olympia

These things always seem to happen on a weekend and, for us, holiday ones. So, David left a message for our insurance agent and we waited until Tuesday to decide our next step.

The closest boatyard was in Tacoma but they don’t allow live-aboards, so we opted for Swantown Boat Works in Olympia. They had two openings: one on Wednesday morning and one on Friday. We weren’t sure whether we could make it under our own power or if we would end up needing a tow, so we chose Friday.

We took our time and made it to the work dock safely Thursday evening, relieved to be tied up again. And when Cambria came out of the water the next morning, this is what we found:

We were expecting to see a bent prop and were sure we were looking at a 2 or 3 week haulout while we waited for it to be serviced, so we were a little relieved. We shouldn’t have been.

We worked through the week. David removed the prop to inspect it and the shaft, while I cleaned and polished the hull. On Monday, Mike and Melissa from the blog Little Cunning Plan arrived for a scheduled for a haulout. We’d been wanting to meet them for months and were happy to finally have the chance, even if it wasn’t under the best of circumstances.

It was really nice to have the opportunity to get to know them a little in person (rather than virtually) and exciting to watch the first steps of their new adventure begin to unfold (they’re heading down the coast to Mexico and beyond later this summer). It’s been a long time since we were in a similar position and the flashback to brighter days was a welcomed break from fixing yet another unexpected issue. If you’re not already familiar with their blog, I highly recommend having a look.

Everything checked out with the prop and shaft, so we dropped back in the water on Thursday. David engaged the engine. Rear propulsion was back and the ticking sound was gone, so we tied up to the work dock for the night with plans to leave the following morning with the tide.

Holidays Kingston Living Aboard a Boat

Independence Day the Kingston Way

Friday, July 07, 2017TheCambrians

Created with flickr slideshow.

The last time I celebrated the Fourth of July was probably 20 years ago, but I’m only guessing. It was then that Sally the Dog came into my life (David followed suit a few years later). Like most dogs she was deathly afraid of fireworks. But unlike most dogs, she took her fear out on my side of the bed – by peeing on it. Needless to say, I did whatever I could to steer clear of pyrotechnics over the years . . . or anything else that might upset Miss Sally. So, apart from teasing David about England losing its greatest colony in a war, we’ve never celebrated the occasion (D’s British and claims his countrymen were too busy fighting Napoleon to handle the job themselves – but just because the facts support him on this doesn’t mean he’s right, lol).

This year was different. After spending four weeks stuck in a hardstand in Olympia, we desperately needed to clean Cambria and get back to work listing her with a local yacht broker. Thanks to a last-minute cancellation at the Port of Kingston, we were able to do just that Sunday afternoon.

We’re not ones for crowds, but our need to move forward in this (seemingly) never-ending process outweighed our disdain for being surrounded by the masses. And I’m glad that it did.

I have to admit, the 241^st anniversary of our country’s birth didn’t feel like a cause for celebration to me. I won’t get too political, but I harbour a strong dislike of the current administration based on their heartless policies and propensity to lie, to say the very least. So for me it felt more like a day of mourning, but Kingston changed that.

For a small community, they sure know how to throw a party. The festivities began on Monday with bouncy castles and blow-up ball rooms set up at the Village Green. There was a talent show, live music, races for the kids, and hot dogs throughout the day. In the evening, things moved to Mike Wallace Park (the marina’s backyard) where there was a beer garden and more bands. It was impressive.

Tuesday started off with a pancake breakfast at the local yacht club which was followed by a fun run. Meanwhile, the farmer’s market was in full swing at the marina. By noon, the main street was cleared of traffic and spectators where lining the road to watch the 4^th of July parade – the longest running one west of the Mississippi, or so they say.

This year’s theme was “Independence Day the Kingston Way” and it was a true community event with entries from the fire department, sheriff’s department, local schools, businesses, and bands. People cheered. Candy was thrown. And everyone had a great time. Our favourite float was one of the last ones featuring a Star Wars theme with dozens of marching Princess Leias (including a slave version pulling a paper mache Jabba the Hutt). They even had a cantina band – it was brilliant!

While events were taking place for the kids at the Village Green, we hid out on the boat until the evening. With a blanket in hand, we walked up to Mike Wallace Park to listen to some live music, eat a couple of hot dogs, and people watch. We never made it over to the beer garden, darn it!

Homebodies at heart, we packed things up after an hour or so and came back to Cambria where we sat on the aft deck and listened to the bands while we waited for the fireworks to start. For simplicity’s sake, I decided to use the iPhone to take pictures but wished I hadn’t. The show was fantastic and the photos don’t do it justice, so please don’t judge it by them.

So if you’re looking for a great place in Puget Sound to celebrate the 4^th of July next year, give Kingston a try. You won’t be disappointed. But call early for a reservation. The marina is completely booked by 10 o’clock on the morning of January 2^nd – it’s that good.

How about you? Did you do anything special to celebrate the 4^th of July or did you avoid the crowds and hide out somewhere?

Laundry Living Aboard a Boat Narrowboats

Airing Our Dirty Laundry

Monday, July 03, 2017TheCambrians

I spend a lot of time looking at narrowboats for sale online. Too much time considering we have no idea when we’ll be ready to buy one ourselves. But I want to get a feel for what’s on the market and how that compares to what I’m looking for in our next boat. I’m sure David has ideas of his own, but he’s entirely too practical to be trusted with choosing our next home. Besides, I’m nosy and like looking around other people’s boats.

I don’t mind telling tales on myself, and the truth is I can be lazy. Very lazy. I always have been and probably always will be. It’s part of my DNA. I’m okay with that and so is David, but he might be losing patience with me thanks to my latest encounter with slothfulness and the ensuing pile of dirty clothes that’s taking over the v-berth (the cabin at the front of a sailboat).

The thing is, I hate doing laundry*. I’m not exactly sure why. It’s not difficult and I like wearing clean clothes, but I tend to put the job off whenever I can. I appreciate being able to do more than one load at the time, so it’s not going to a Laundromat that I find so offensive. I think it has more to do with sorting smelly clothes, packing them up, lugging them off the boat, dragging them into the dinghy, and shuttling them to shore only to wait around all day for the spin cycle to end that rubs me the wrong way me – even writing about it is exhausting.

My record for not doing laundry is eight weeks, something I’m pretty proud of. We were transitioning from summer to winter at the time and I have four sets of sheets, three duvet covers, countless undergarments, piles of towels, and heaps of socks stored all over the place so it wasn’t difficult. But I took a lot of our personal items off the boat over the winter, including a significant portion of our clothes. And that’s turning out to be a problem.

We left Kingston with an empty hamper five weeks ago and things are starting to look grim. I only have one clean bra left and two pairs of underpants. I’m completely out of socks and wearing my last pair of shorts. I have one pair of jeans hanging in my wardrobe, but I’ve worn them a couple of times over the last three weeks and they’re ready for the hamper as well (if only there was room!).

David’s situation is slightly better. He still has a healthy pile of socks and underwear to choose from, but he’s out of clean sweatpants and jeans. He has several pairs of shorts, but doesn’t like to wear them because he thinks his legs resemble a chicken’s (they don’t) and are ghostly white (they are). But, hey, at least his feet aren’t cold (like mine).

Despite my laziness, the problem usually boils down to logistics. We like to cruise in remote wilderness areas where it could be days before you see another person, let alone a Laundromat. I’ve tried the “chuck it in a bucket” method to keep on top of things but that doesn’t work very well in a temperate rainforest.

Which finally brings me to the point of this blog: Our next boat has to have a washer and dryer. They’re truly the only things I’ve missed in all of the years we’ve lived-aboard and cruised (that would be 16). And if the boat we ultimately choose doesn’t already have a unit, (at the very least) it has to have a place to put one (as challenging as that might be). Because, after 16 years, I’m finished with Laundromats . . . or I will be once the hamper is empty.

*Why not have David do the laundry? Good question. For the same reason I don’t change the engine oil and filters: I’m perfectly capable. I know how to do it. But I make one hell of a mess in the process and so does he (i.e. my shirts usually come back bleached).

If you were in the market for a new (to you) boat, what are some of the things you wouldn’t want to live without?

Boatyard Living Aboard a Boat Ramblings From the Dockside

Life is Hard

Friday, June 30, 2017TheCambrians

Sailors have a unique language all their own: On a boat, the front isn’t called the front. It’s the “bow”. The back of the boat’s the “stern”. The “port” side is on the left and the “starboard” side is on the right, but only if you’re facing the bow – if you’re facing the stern, it’s the opposite. Below decks, the “head” is the toilet because it used to be located at the front of the boat, which was the head but is now the bow. The kitchen’s the “galley”, the living room’s a “salon” (or “saloon” if you’re British), we sleep in a “cabin” where we have a “berth”. And when a boat’s in a boatyard, it’s “on the hard”.

Why? Because the ground is hard and so is life when a boat’s sitting on it.

Water

Alot of our personal comfort depends on the boat being in the water. When we’re at anchor, the bow points up to the wind and a nice breeze flows through – it’s Mother Nature’s air conditioning. Right now the boat is parked with the wind off our stern quarter, so it’s having a difficult time finding its way inside.

Like a lot of places around the country, we’re in the midst of a heat wave. And while temperatures in the 80s and 90s don’t compare with the 119°F that Phoenix is dealing with, the fact that we’re currently sitting on top of tarmac makes things a lot hotter.

This chart was designed for pet owners, but you get the idea. By the time 5 o’clock rolls around, it’s close to 90 degrees on board and we’re melting from the heat (it hit 95 on Sunday).

Then there’s the refrigerator, a keel-cooled system (the water temperature cools the compressor). Normally, we turn the fridge off when we’re on the hard to save the strain on the compressor, but this was an unplanned haul-out so it’s full of food and our portable freezer is in storage. With this heat, it looked like we were going to have to shut the system down until David came up with this clever idea (the bucket is full of water):

Logistics

Our water-worries don’t end there. Unlike RVs, most boats don’t have a grey water tank (for sinks and shower drains): We dump straight into the sea. So any time we turn on a tap while on the hard, the water lands in a puddle on the ground. That means doing the simplest of tasks (like brushing your teeth, washing dishes, or taking a shower) are off the table. We have to do these chores on land . . . and getting to land requires climbing up and down a ladder.

We do, however, have a black water tank (a.k.a. the holding tank), so we can use the head when we’re on the hard. It’s plumbed with salt water, which means we need to use fresh water from the sink to flush the toilet. No big deal there. But we don’t want to end up with a full tank before we can get ourselves to the nearest pump-out station, so we only use it when we have to. The rest of the time, it’s up and down the ladder to use the bathroom in the boatyard (which is pretty grungy).

Ladders

When your on the hard, the boat is propped several feet in the air. It no longer moves. It no longer heads up wind. It’s static. The lack of motion feels completely wrong; and if the yard staff doesn’t set the boat level, it’s even worse. But more importantly, it means you have to climb up and down a ladder several times a day to get on and off the boat. It also means that if you fall, it’s going to hurt – a lot!

Dust and Dirt

There’s no escaping the reality that boatyards are dirty places. And in this heat, all of the hatches have to be open. That means there’s a nice coating of black dust everywhere we look – on the cabinetry, the floor, the decks, and us. We do what we can to minimize the effect (like taking our shoes off before stepping onto the decks), but after four weeks, it’s pretty much a lost cause.

Noise

Swantown is operating from 8 am to 5 pm during the week, but the gates are opened at 6 in the morning. So, from about 7 am on, it’s power washers, power tools, hammering, and banging – the noise is deafening. I finally got smart and started spending my days in the library where it was nice and quiet . . . and there was air conditioning (after all the work was done, of course).

And that’s our list of things that make life so “hard” while living on the hard.

Do you stay aboard when your boat’s on the hard? What are some of the things that make you sing the boatyard blues?

Boat Maintenance Boatyard Living Aboard a Boat

Boatyard Blues | The Encore

Monday, June 19, 2017TheCambrians

Okay. It’s time to bite the bullet and write about what happened and why we’re (still) on the hardstand. It’s not an easy thing to do. The last place in the world we want to be is sitting in a boatyard – we just spent four weeks on the hard in October, after all. But it is what it is, so we might as well tell you all about it.

Here’s where I left the story in a previous blog post:

There’s one thing you can count on while sailing the Inside Passage and that’s debris in the water. David and I take this hazard very seriously – we’ve seen too many boats with holes in them not too. And despite the fact that we keep a keen eye out at all times, we’ve hit a log or two along the way.

After leaving Quartermaster Harbor, we made our way down to Tacoma Narrows where there’s a decent current flowing (0 to 5 knot range). It was close to slack tide, but the water was “active” and we could see a rip line ahead with some debris gathered along it. We had a clear path, though, and went through.

Then we heard a sound we hadn’t expected – bang! A direct hit to the prop.

We put the motor in neutral and looked behind us, expecting to see a log pop up, but there was nothing there. Back in gear and moving forward, we felt a slight vibration from the engine but it seemed to settle down so we continued to Carr Inlet where we anchored off the home of some friends, thinking we’d dodged a bullet. But when David put the boat into reverse to set the anchor, we learned the truth: Cambria no longer had any rear propulsion and there was a “ticking” sound was coming from the prop – we were going to have to haulout.

These things always seem to happen on the weekend and, because it was a holiday, we had to wait until Tuesday to contact our insurance and a boatyard. We were closer to Tacoma, but Melissa from the blog “Little Cunning Plan” told me they didn’t allow live-aboards so David called Swantown Boat Works in Olympia – the yard that they would be hauling out in themselves the following week.

We had two choices: Wednesday or Friday morning. Not sure that we could make the earlier appointment, we chose the latter and slowly made our way to the work dock at the boatyard over the course of a couple of days.

The yard staff loaded Cambria into the sling and when she came out of the water, we discovered a surprise: The prop hadn’t been hit by a log after all. It was a heavy-duty lawn bag.

The insurance surveyor came out that afternoon to assess the damage. She was really good and recommended a long-list of items to check. We were way ahead of her, but needed some tools first – most of which were still in storage. So, we put a list together of what we needed, rented a car, and drove up to Kingston to fetch it all.

Monday saw the arrival of Mike and Melissa aboard Galapagos. We’d been threatening to meet up for months and were finally getting our chance, albeit in a boatyard. But here’s something you may not have thought about (because we hadn’t): Buddy-boating in a yard makes the experience a lot more fun. You should try it.

David got to work taking the prop apart (it’s a 3-bladed feathering MaxProp) and checking the shaft for damage. He spent several days going over everything and felt confident it was just as he’d left it seven months earlier when he’d gone over the driveline – replacing the engine mounts, coupling, dripless shaft seal, and cutlass bearing.

I’ll admit it. We were feeling pretty relieved, but we shouldn’t have been. The amount of torque the bag applied to the prop while it was spinning should have had us looking deeper for answers (i.e. involving the professionals), not running away from them. But we were too keen to get back in the water, and that’s when mistakes can happen.

The yard put us in the sling on Thursday and David tested the prop once Cambria was floating again. We had reverse propulsion back and everything seemed fine. So, we tied up to the work dock for the night and made plans to leave with the tide the following day.

At 10 o’clock the next morning, we dropped our lines and slowly motored up the channel. By 10:15 am, we heard a noise. It sounded like a work whistle coming from shore. I checked my watch. Tea time? That seemed a bit odd so I stuck my head outside the cockpit and the sound faded away. It wasn’t a whistle at all – it was the prop . . . singing! So we turned around and went back to the boatyard.

A few phone calls later, and we learned this meant it’s likely the prop was out of balance and it would need to be serviced. The shaft would also have to be pulled and inspected beyond what David was able to do with it in place. But we couldn’t haul out again until Monday (damn the busy season!).

Mike and Melissa came back in the water on Friday and joined us at the dock for a night or two, misery loves company after all. But come Monday we went our separate ways – us back into the yard, and them out to anchor. I’m sure our paths will cross again. At least I hope they do. They’re a lovely couple and we really enjoyed spending time together. If you ever see Galapagos on the water, do yourself a favour and say hello. You won’t regret it.

David went to work removing the prop and shaft. And guess what. The shaft was bent at the taper by 70,000^th of an inch (about 1.1 mm). Bloody plastic bags!

We rented another car on Tuesday and drove up to Seattle to drop the prop and shaft off – one to be checked and serviced, the other to be straightened. But unfortunately, the shaft couldn’t be fixed and a new one had to be made, which Sound Propeller Services delivered on Friday (they don’t have a website but we can’t say enough good things about their customer service). We haven’t heard anything from the PropShop, Ltd. yet, but it’ll be interesting to learn what the issue there was.

So, that’s the story up until now, such as it is. We’re just hanging out on the hard (again), twiddling our thumbs and dreaming of the day we can go back in the water . . . hopefully for good!

Blogging Ramblings From the Dockside

Blogging Mistakes? I've Made a Few

Friday, June 16, 2017TheCambrians

When I started this blog, I was young and foolish. Okay. Maybe not so young, but definitely foolish. And I made a lot of mistakes. I’m not alone in this. My blogging-buddy from The Cynical Sailor and His Salty Sidekick has written a post on the subject that reflects similar experiences. And now that I’m starting our second official blog, which is called “From the Towpath”, I wanted to share some of them with you.

I managed to narrow the list down to five things, but I promise you there are a lot more where these came from:

I Chose a Bad Blog Name

“S.V. Cambria” is named after our current boat, and I hate it: It’s unimaginative, restrictive, and tells the reader very little about what they can expect to find if they log on . . . it also won’t transfer to our next adventure in life, which is a real bugger. But when I started it nine years ago, its sole purpose was to keep our friends and family up to date so it didn’t really matter at the time. It does now.

Somewhere along the way I decided I wanted to reach out to more readers, particularly ones who cruise the Inside Passage, and “S.V. Cambria” isn’t a name that stands out from the pack. But, more importantly, it limits what topics I can write about.

My life is more than just sailing . . . or sailboats. And that will hold true for narrowboats, so I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

I want the new blog to be one that anyone can enjoy, not just people who have an interest in narrowboating. At the same time, I wanted the name to hint at our chosen lifestyle – that of “continuous cruisers”. I think “From the Towpath” fits the bill. Whether that’s true or not, I can’t really say, but I do like it better than “S.V. Cambria”, so it’s a start.

I Picked the Wrong Platform

“S.V. Cambria” first showed up on webs.com, a free website builder. I stayed for five years and was happy; but when I got interested in expanding readership, it started showing some of its limitations. So, I decided to make the move from website to blogsite, did a bit of research, and switched to Blogger.

The change made a big impact on the stats, but the benefits didn’t stop there. It was easier to use, offered more flexibility with templates, allowed me to link up with Cambria’s social media accounts, and came with enough storage space to post more pictures from our travels.

I really like Blogger and would have chosen them again had the name “From the Towpath” been available (the person who has it hasn’t posted since 2012 – argh!). But it wasn’t, so I chose WordPress this time around.

I’ve read a lot of good things about the platform – it’s user-friendly, has hundreds of templates to chose from, offers thousands of plug-ins, unlimited storage space, and more control. But that’s only if you sign up for the WordPress.org site. Right now I’m with the “dot com” version, which is similar to (and just as restrictive as) Blogger. Once I purchase a domain name and choose a server, I’ll make the switch to “dot org” (assuming I can).

Cambria’s No Different from the Rest

I love Cambria. She’s given us some amazing experiences as my husband and I have explored New Zealand, the west coast of the US, and the Inside Passage over the last 13 years. But “S.V. Cambria” is a different story.

There are a lot of sailing blogs out there and most of us are writing about the same things – our experiences on the water (both good and bad). And I’m tired of it. No, that’s not completely true. I’m bored with it.

It’s the same with narrowboating blogs. I’ve tried to follow along with several of them but have no idea what they’re writing about, where they are, or why I should care so I don’t come back. I don’t want “From the Towpath” to be like that. I want to offer something more . . . something a little different.

I want it to be about more than what we did on a particular day or how beautiful the scenery was. I want it to reflect who we are as people, not just to be a source of information. I want it to be real and honest, especially as we transition from sailboat to narrowboat. We’re going to make some stupid mistakes as newbies on the canal (because lord know we’re making them now!). I want to own those mistakes. To laugh at them. And to share them.

Will that be enough to separate us from the pack? Probably not. But I have a few other ideas about how to help accomplish that (namely by shamelessly stealing ideas from fellow bloggers and vloggers – giving them credit along the way, of course).

I Didn’t Write About What I Love

Yes. I love cruising and everything it’s given us over the years but sometimes writing about it is a downright chore (and a bore). This time around, I just want to have fun.

There’s a lot more to me than sailboats and sailing. In fact, some of my favourite posts didn’t have anything to do with them at all. They were about Sally (our former dog), attending the Women’s March on Washington in DC, a walk through a ghost town, the word of the week. As much as I enjoyed writing posts like these, I didn’t do it often enough. I don’t want to make that mistake again.

I Didn’t Post Regularly

This is probably a big one when it comes to the world of blogging mistakes, but it’s a symptom of the lifestyle. During the cruising season, we spend a lot of time in remote areas where we don’t have access to the internet so weeks can go by without a word posted to the blog. I hope to change that on “From the Towpath” and get back to a regular schedule (three times a week). But I also hope to build our social media presence, especially through Facebook and Instagram, something else that hard to do in the wilderness.

It Wasn’t All Bad

Despite all of the mistakes (and these are just a few of the ones I’ve made along the way), blogging has been a great outlet for my more creative side. It’s given me the opportunity to improve my writing skills and to use some of the photos I’ve taken to tell a story. It’s helped me discover other hobbies, like photography and drawing. And allowed me to meet people with similar interests – both virtually and physically. It’s also been a lot of fun. And at the end of the day, that’s really the point, isn’t it?

What mistakes have you made as a blogger? Would you choose the same name if you had the chance to do it again? Join the conversation in the comments section below or on our Facebook page – we love hearing from you!

Puget Sound South Sound

Inspiration Can Be Overrated

Monday, June 12, 2017TheCambrians

Cambria at anchor in Carr Inlet, South Sound.

I envy bloggers who are able to sit down and write about something, anything, off the top of their heads. That’s not me. Not normally, anyway. I spend my time fussing over the details: Is the grammar correct? Is that what I really meant to say? What purpose does it serve?

The truth is, I’m more interested in editing than writing and normally need a little inspiration to get down to the work of blogging . . . and sitting in a marina can be pretty uninspiring.

Cambria has a berth at the Port of Kingston guest dock until the end of June, but we needed to leave over Memorial Day Weekend to open up some space for visiting boats. So, we dropped our lines Thursday afternoon (the 25^th of May – geez! where does the time go?) and pointed our bow south.

We’ve been threatening to sail down Puget Sound for a couple of months but the weather has gotten in the way. Either it’s been pouring down rain, too cold, or too windy to enjoy life at anchor (yes, we can be wimps when it comes to the weather). Or it’s been so nice that we’ve used the time to work outside on the boat while we had the chance.

To be honest, neither David nor I have been excited about the fast-approaching start to the summer season. We’ve clearly moved on from this lifestyle in our heads and aren’t very interesting in cruising this season. But with no other option (for the weekend, anyway), we decided to take the opportunity to check out some new anchorages in the South Sound.

Our first stop was Blakely Harbor, Bainbridge Island, which sits across Puget Sound from Seattle and has a beautiful view of the cityscape . . . along with the roll from passing container ships.

Our second night saw us anchored in Quartermaster Harbor, Vashon Island, which we thought was pretty unremarkable . . . or at least the spot we chose. But it wasn’t the “where”, it was the “what” and we found ourselves slipping back into life at anchor easily and enjoying some of the things we love about cruising again – dining in the cockpit, reading books, finding the time to play the guitar. It was lovely.

The cruising life is one of ups and downs and it was our turn for some bad news.

There’s one thing you can count on while sailing the Inside Passage and that’s debris in the water. David and I take this hazard very seriously – we’ve seen too many boats with holes in them not too. And despite the fact that we keep a keen eye out at all times, we’ve hit a log or two along the way.

After leaving Quartermaster Harbor, we made our way down to Tacoma Narrows where there’s a decent current flowing (0 to 5 knot range). It was close to slack tide, but the water was “active” and we could see a rip line ahead with some debris gathered along it. We had a clear path, though, and went through.

Then we heard a sound we hadn’t expected – bang! A direct hit to the prop.

We put the motor in neutral and looked behind us, expecting to see a log pop up, but there was nothing there. Back in gear and moving forward, we felt a slight vibration from the engine but it seemed to settle down so we continued to Carr Inlet where we anchored off the home of some friends, thinking we’d dodged a bullet. But when David put the boat into reverse to set the anchor, we learned the truth: Cambria no longer had any rear propulsion and there was a “ticking” sound was coming from the prop – we were going to have to haul-out.

So, it looks like I finally found the “inspiration” I’ve needed to write a blog post after two weeks of silence but the story has to stop there . . . for now. There’s a lot more to tell (including a singing prop, a surprise visit from David’s sons, and finally meeting Mike and Melissa from Little Cunning Plan!) but that will all have to wait until the next time.

Dear Blog

Filling In the Blanks (Part Two)

Filling In the Blanks (Part One)

Independence Day the Kingston Way

Airing Our Dirty Laundry

Life is Hard

Boatyard Blues | The Encore

Blogging Mistakes? I've Made a Few

Inspiration Can Be Overrated

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