S.V. CAMBRIA: 2013

From Our Home to Yours . . . Merry Christmas!

Tuesday, December 24, 2013TheCambrians

Cambria at anchor in the Bunsby Islands

Here we are at the end of yet another year and, once again, we’re left wondering where the time went – it all passed by so quickly.

The 2013 cruising season took us as far north as Bishop Bay Hot Springs (53°28.22 N) and back to one of our favourite cruising grounds, the Central Coast in northern British Columbia, before we turned south and made our way down the West Coast of Vancouver Island. While not as spectacular as the scenery and surroundings of the Central Coast or as kind as the waters along the Inside Passage, this area has a rough charm all of its own. Open to the influences of the Pacific Ocean, cruising these waters is challenging: changes in conditions caused by approaching weather systems, the occurrence of frequently dense fog, and the very nature of the coast itself with its many off-lying rocks, scattered reefs and shoals, require a crew to be constantly aware and performing to their best abilities. Despite the challenges, the solitude found in many of the areas and the rugged nature of the coast is alluring; almost magnetic, something that’s difficult to describe in words.

As seasons go, this one was more demanding than most, though they all present their own set of challenges. In August, Sally fell ill and it’s proven difficult to get her back on her paws again. She was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, and finding the correct dosage of medication was a struggle. Come to find out, she shouldn’t have been prescribed the medication at all and was immediately taken off of it by our vet in Wichita. It’s been a slow process and we've spent many sleepless nights trying to calm her down but, after a week or so, we’re beginning to see signs of Sally’s personality again. The old girl’s stubborn to a fault, a quality that has served her well over the years, and we’re hopeful that we’ll get through this with barely a scratch.

If it wasn’t Sally giving us cause for concern, then it was most certainly the house batteries aboard Cambria. We lost one of three in late July and the remaining two progressively grew weaker over the course of the season. Because the West Coast is so isolated, we weren’t able to replace them and had to nurse them along. By the end of the season, we estimated that we were working with less than 80 amp-hours of battery capacity, down from the original 640, whereas our average daily use is approximately 150. Needless to say, our solar panels and generator earned their keep in the final weeks of the season.

And if it wasn’t Sally or the house batteries keeping us on our toes, then it was surely the weather. In addition to the regular monthly summer storms, in late August we sat out the remnants of a typhoon that hit the coast of Japan and brought day after day of strong winds and torrential rain. In September, we were caught in a lightning storm in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. And we rode out forty plus knots of wind at anchor in late September. By the time the first of October rolled around, we were ready to tie the boat up for the winter.

After five years in Poulsbo, Washington, we have a new winter home. The port failed to re-negotiate their live-aboard contract for temporary moorage with the city, so we took a berth in nearby Kingston and couldn’t be happier with the change. Though they’re both communities with less than 10,000 residents Poulsbo, as it turns out, is much too busy for us and we should have moved years ago.

Now that the holidays are upon us, we’re back in Kansas spending time with family and friends but, once again, we have a long list of jobs we want to tackle on the boat and plan to be back in the Seattle area by the end of January so that we might (finally) be able to drop our lines and head north in April. Our plans were to cruise Southeast Alaska, but we’ve decided against that because of Sally’s health. Instead, we’re going to have a more leisurely season and spend some more time along the Central Coast exploring the many fjords and hot springs. Before we left Washington this winter, I was offered the opportunity to so some writing for an online boating magazine so I’ll use the extra time to concentrate on that. And I’m sure David will be happy to have more time with his guitars.

Wishing you and your families all the best this holiday season,

David, Stephanie and Sally the Sea Dog

All Is Lost: Hollywood Misses the Mark

Saturday, November 09, 2013TheCambrians

All Is Lost, written and directed by J.C. Chandor (Margin Call), is the latest in a long list of survival movies to come out of Hollywood. The story begins as a single-handed sailor wakes to find water coming into his boat after hitting a shipping container full of tennis shoes that was floating in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The boat is holed above the waterline on the starboard side just at the navigation station where the skipper, listed as “our man” in the credits, keeps his computer, sideband radio and electronics, destroying them all.

Although he is able to repair the hull, he is caught in a storm which dismasts his vessel and holes the boat in another location. He is eventually abandons ship for his life raft and the remainder of the movie takes place there as he continues to fight for survival and attempts to be rescued.

The film stars Robert Redford who plays the only character in the movie and, with the exception of an opening narrative and crying out an expletive late in the story, is completely silent and carries the plot along through his actions. When the film was debuted in Cannes earlier this year, he received a nine minute standing ovation for his performance: He deserved it. The film, however, did not. With so many true-life stories of sailors who have lost their boats at sea and spent day after day fighting for survival in hopes of being rescued or rescuing themselves to draw upon, Chandor settles on a piece of sloppy fiction.

The movie leaves you with more questions than answers but there is one thing we do know: Redford’s character is a competent solo-sailor. How do we know this? Because he’s in the middle of the Indian Ocean, a difficult and remote stretch of water. And his demeanor is calm, cool and collected throughout the film, which Redford plays brilliantly. So why so many amateurish mistakes?

We went to see the movie with the sole expectation of being entertained for an hour and forty minutes but found ourselves analyzing the plot because there were so many issues with it. Here is a list of some of the more significant ones we found:

Where is his safety equipment? His jack lines? His PFD? His harness? His tether? When the movie starts, “our man” is napping in the v-berth and the conditions are calm, so you can believe that he would be willing to walk around the deck of the boat untethered. But in the height of a storm? No way. Using the proper safety equipment would take nothing away from the plot. In fact, it makes it more plausible. At one point, the boat is rolled while he is in the cockpit and he miraculously manages to get back in as it uprights. We don’t buy it. The ocean can be a very violent place and if there are waves large enough to roll a sailboat occurring, they’re most likely going to drag you away unless you are inside the vessel or tied to it.

Why wasn’t his para-anchor rigged? To stave off the container, “our man” deploys a para-anchor that he has stowed below decks. But it’s not a piece of equipment that you pull out at the last minute. It’s somewhat complicated and requires a retrieval line, chains, a bridal and hundreds of feet of one-inch line for a vessel his size (39 feet) all neatly coiled and ready to deploy. That aside, the manoeuvre works and he returns to the container to retrieve the anchor by hitting it, bow first (an action that could easily have caused further damage to the boat) rather than approaching it cautiously from the leeward side and attempting to tie up to it like adock. “Our man” then jumps off his vessel with only a line in his hand, walks precariously along the floating container, and retrieves the line to the sea anchor with the other hand. Really?

Why did he leave the hole open and allow more water to enter the boat? As “our man” leaves the container behind, he sails off on a port tack which means the wind is coming from the port side of the boat and the boat is leaning to starboard, the side the hole is on. This puts the hole below the water and allows it to come rushing in. No sailor in their right mind would do this. They would leave on a starboard tack (or start their engine) in order to keep the hole above the water until they could address the problem. In the meantime, he should have stuffed the hole with anything he could have found (clothes, a mattress, pillows, etc.) to help keep water out before ever trying to fix it AND pumped the bilges. Had he kept the water at bay rather than invited it in, his batteries may have survived and he could have used the electric bilge pumps rather than doing it all by hand (a job made much harder by the fact that he allowed so much water into the boat). And why on earth did he have to whittle a handle for his Whale Pump? They come with perfectly good stainless steel handles that most sailors have mounted near the pumps themselves. It’s very difficult to believe that a sailor with “our man’s” experience would make such a mistake.

What about the hull repair? Again, this guy isan experienced solo-sailor and that means one thing, he knows how to fix problems. Offshore boats oftentimes carry extra boards with them. We have pieces to replace our weather boards should they be swept away and pieces to cover every port and hatch in case they’re blown out. But if he didn’t carry extra with him, he should have used one from a berth or settee, adhered it to the hull with screws and 5200 (we all carry it), and fiberglassed over that instead of the ridiculous job he did. It just doesn’t make any sense. Besides, it isn’t the hole that eventually gets him, so why not take the time to do it right?

Why doesn’t he sail towards the shipping lane from the beginning? After attempting to send out a distress call, “our man” doesn’t seem to take charge of the situation, another inconsistency with a seasoned sailor. He doesn’t pull out charts to plot a course to the nearest port or a place where he might be able to receive help from other vessels (i.e. the shipping lane). Rather, he continues to pump the bilge, mop the floor, eat and sleep. At one point he even pours a couple of large drinks from a bottle of alcohol (nobody in their right mind would do anything that could impede their senses) when he should have been actively seeking a way out of his predicament.

Where is his EPIRB (Emergency Position-Indicating Radio Beacon)? Most offshore boats have them. Why doesn’t he? Again, he’s a competent sailor. He has a para-anchor, so why doesn’t he have and EPIRB? For under $500, he could have set it off, boarded his life raft and waited. Okay. Sure. This destroys the plot but there’s no reason there couldn’t be an issue with the EPIRB. With water rushing in the boat, it could have been swept away or some other convoluted reason, but it should have been there. And the audience should have seen it whether or not they understood its significance.

Why did he pull out a storm sail in the middle of a storm? First off, despite the fact that the sail bag reads, “Storm Sail” it isn’t. For his size vessel, a 39 foot sailboat, the sail would be approximately 80 square feet and be constructed from a heavy material. What he attempt to raise was a large sail made of Dacron, or something similar. Because the conditions are rough, he abandons the effort mid-job and leaves the sail lying on the deck where it can be swept away by the wind or water creating even more problems that the film could have used to its advantage but chose to ignore AND he does it all without wearing a PFD, harness and tether. With that said, the time to put out a storm sail is before the storm arrives, which he clearly saw coming.

Why did he deploy his para-anchor from the stern of the boat? While they can be deployed off the stern in moderate conditions and stable seas (not the case here) for a brief rest, para-anchors are designed to be deployed off the bow. If they are deployed off the stern in heavy seas (which presumably we’re in because the boat was rolled twice), waves will come over the stern and funnel into the boat and eventually sink it.

Why does he leave his boat for the life raft? First rule in offshore sailing, never abandon ship unless you’re stepping UP to the life raft. In other words, you stay with the vessel, which is more secure than a rubber raft, until it’s no longer feasible. Rather than attempt to pump the vessel again, “our man” deploys his life raft, tethers it to his sailboat, and spends the night in the raft . . . still tied to the boat, completely ignoring the fact that it could sink and take him down with it. And why doesn’t he have a ditch bag, a (normally) waterproof bag with emergency equipment in it, to take with him? Yes. Life rafts come equipped with some emergency gear, but it’s limited and most (if not all) offshore vessels carry extra items with them (an EPIRB, an extra waterproof handheld VHF radio, a handheld compass, additional flares, a solar still or watermaker, sunscreen, hats, swim goggles, binoculars, fishing gear, etc.)

Why did he only have four flares with him? At the end of the film, “our man” has to resort to lighting a fire in his (flammable) life raft, destroying the only thing separating him from shark-infested waters. Why? Because he only has four flares with him and he’s already used three. Why doesn’t he at least set off the final one to attract the attention of a passing boat? Supposedly because his previous two attempts to signal another vessel was unsuccessful. Still. It’s doesn’t make sense. He had only been out there eight days and seemed prepared to give up.

Surely the answer to one or even all of these questions is for dramatic effect and/or to keep the story moving. But you don’t need them. Enough can go wrong at sea when you do everything right without inventing problems. In all fairness, fatigue can and will effect your decision making but the fact that “our man” was so unprepared simply doesn’t ring true.

With that said, the cinematography is beautiful (with the exception of a cheesy underside shot of a school of fish and sharks circling the life raft) and the special effects are, for the most part, convincing. Robert Redford delivers a brilliant performance and, if he receives an Oscar nomination for best actor, we won’t be surprised. But if you’ve ever stepped aboard a sailboat and spent any time at all at sea, save yourself the money and don’t waste your time seeing this film. All Is Lost, despite its rave reviews, is merely the latest example of Hollywood’s laziness and need to over-simplify life.

*Our Background: David has over fifty years of sailing experience and I have more than fourteen. We have been living aboard sailboats for twelve years, six in the Southern Hemisphere cruising New Zealand with an offshore passage to Tonga and six in the US and Canada cruising the West Coast and the Inside Passage.

Boat Guests Surviving Guests on a Boat Top Ten Lists

Having Guests Aboard: Our Top Eight Ways to Survive

Saturday, October 26, 2013TheCambrians

When I asked David if he had any advice about having guests aboard, his recommendation was “don’t.” Which is exactly what I knew he would say. Whether on land or on the water, guests can be stressful. Part of this, of course, is simply because they don’t know your rhythms and routines . . . or what drives you crazy. But whether you have a “good” guest or a "bad" one aboard, there are some things you can do to make the experience enjoyable for everybody aboard:

David and our guest, Ian, enjoying a sail in the cockpit.

Choose Wisely: There are exceptions to every rule but, in our experience, friends and family with some boating experience make the best guests: They understand that there’s an ebb and a flow to this lifestyle. Landlubbers. Not so much.

Flexibility is Key: This is the one that seems to get into the way most often. Plans change. Things happen. Weather interferes. And boat equipment fails. We don’t sail to a schedule and can’t say with any level of certainty where we’ll be at any given time – we live in generalities, which is perfectly fine with us. But try to add a third party into the mix and it becomes complicated. So, unless we’re tied up for the winter, flexibility is key for anybody who’d like to come for a visit.

Communication: It’s your job to educate your guests on everything and anything they may need to know while aboard – from the general “boat rules” to knowing where everything is and how to use it (this goes double for the head).

We All Need Our Space: Make sure your guests have space of their own, or they’ll always be in yours. This goes for their things as well. Cambria has a great layout for guests with a private v-berth and ensuite, but lacks when it comes to common areas. The salon is “cozy” and the cockpit is built with ocean passages in mind, not entertaining. So it’s important to keep these areas clear of “stuff” to make room for people (not to mention a curious dog who likes to be part of the action).

Our friend Lee in Cambria's v-berth.

Plan, Plan and Plan Some More: And when you’re finished with that, make back-up plans. Keeping your guests busy is key. While we’re happy to spend lazy days aboard doing next to nothing, guests who just spent a lot of money to see us are not. Visit anchorages with plenty to do and rediscover some of your favourite places through the eyes of your guests. The days will pass much faster and, before you know it, your boat will be yours again.

Galleys Weren’t Built For Two: They really weren’t, so share the responsibilities. There’s nothing wrong with allowing your guests to help prepare some of the meals (three times a day adds up to A LOT of extra work) or to help out with the dishes.

Our friend and boat guest, Eleanor, steaming mussels in the galley.

Be Realistic: Don’t bite off more than you can chew. If guests aren’t your thing, so be it. Know yourself and how long you can share your space – if at all.

See the Light at the End of the Tunnel: Nothing lasts forever, even boat guests, and it’s important recognize that they will be leaving sooner or later and mentally mark the days off the calendar.

And remember, having a guest aboard is an opportunity to spend quality time with people you love, so let go of your routine, relax and enjoy!

Happy Hour with boat guest and friend, Ian, in Cambria's cozy cockpit.

Cruising with a Dog Pets Aboard Tips for Living Aboard

Advice for Freshman Cruisers . . . With Dogs

Friday, October 18, 2013TheCambrians

Sally enjoying the beaches of Calvert Island along the Central Coast of British Columbia.

The Monkey's Fist, a website that collects blogs from cruisers on a series of topics, recently posted a request for blogs about the most important things you learned in your first year cruising to share with other newbies. I’ve been wanting to write about Sally, our dog, for a while now and decided to add my own personal twist to the subject. And I think that if you change a few words here and there, you’ll find the information translates into cruising in general. So, without further ado, here are some things we've learned along the way about cruising with a dog:

Quarantine days in Auckland, New Zealand, 2001. Ahhh! The shame!

Information is key. If you’re sailing to another country, make sure you know what the regulations regarding the importation of domestic animals are and follow them to a ‘T’ – your pet’s life depends on it. When we brought Sally to New Zealand over twelve years ago, we had to prepare six months in advance, microchip her and put her through rigorous testing for rabies. And she still had to spend 30 days in quarantine (which has now been reduced to 10). The sad thing is that, even after all of our hard work preparing Sally to move south, FDA sent her to New Zealand with the wrong paperwork (she clearly wasn’t a cat, let alone two of them) and if it wasn’t for the good working relationship between the kennel owner who was charged with receiving her and MAF (Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry), she would have been “destroyed”.

Sally pounting as we sail along the coast of New Zealand because she has to stay in the cockpit.

It’s all a compromise. It’s not always possible to follow the wind when you have a dog aboard. When we first embarked on this lifestyle twelve years ago, we had dreams of sailing the world . . . not necessarily a circumnavigation, but close. Sally changed that. She was fine cruising around Lake Mead (where we had our first boat) for days on end, but the open ocean turned out to be an entirely different story. While she could handle short passages, sailing for several days would be too stressful for her (after all of these years she still won’t go to the bathroom on deck – not that it’s possible in 4 metre seas). We talked about flying her to different destinations but, at the end of the day, importation regulations got in the way. We tried leaving her behind in a friend’s care while we sailed up to the islands, but that didn’t work for me – I missed her too much. So we changed the way we do things. We eventually left New Zealand for “dog-friendlier” waters and, as along as we have Sally in our lives, are happy to post-pone offshore passages. For us, the important thing is that we’re all together. The ‘where’ is secondary.

Be flexible (you won’t be sorry). Carrying on with the previous point, Sally needs have to be taken into consideration when planning a passage, choosing an anchorage or a marina: When we came up the West Coast of the US in 2008, we had to harbour-hop to accommodate her, which turned out to be a really special way to see part of the country (thanks, Sally!). When we plan our routes for the season, I choose state or provincial parks as our anchorages as often as I can, so that I don’t have to worry about trespassing when taking Sally to shore. As it turns out, they’re our favourite spots (thanks again, pup). And the absolute best marina we ever wintered in was in San Diego and all because the other marinas didn’t allow pets (you’re the best, Sal!). We may not have always ended up where we intended, but it’s been one hell of a ride thanks, in part, to Sally.

Taking Sally to shore on a nice day.

Having a dog aboard is a lot of work. Shore trips, brushing, feeding, cleaning, walking . . . it all adds up. And it’s not always fun. Ask me after going to shore in the pouring rain if I enjoy cruising with a dog and my answer will be a resounding ‘no’. But you’ll get the same response out of David after he’s just finished fixing the head for the third time in as many days.

Share the responsibilities. Sally and I were together before David entered our lives and because of that, I ended up being her primary caretaker. Not only has David missed out on seeing some amazing things on our walks and trips to shore, but he also missed out on a part of Sally’s life that he can never get back and, now that she’s 17, I'm a little disappointed for him. But frankly, when it’s pouring down rain and cold outside, I can’t help but wonder why I’m the only one who has to don their foul-weather gear and head outside. To do it all over again, we’d share the responsibilities . . . just like we do with everything else.

At it again . . . Sally finds something nice and smelly to roll around in.

Be realistic. Cruising with a dog is no different than cruising in general – it’s not all romantic walks on exotic beaches while watching the sunset (although there are plenty of those): It’s dealing with the endless bureaucracy associated with government officials. It’s sprained paws from jumping off rocks. It’s impromptu baths after your dog rolls around in whatever smelly thing they can find on the beach. It’s being woken up at 3 in the morning to make an emergency run to shore because your dog has diarrhoea. It’s having your dog throw up on your head (through an open hatch) after swallowing too much salt water. It’s the good, the bad and the ugly all rolled up into one.

Pets can be a liability. They’re lovely. They’re great friends. They help enrich our lives. But don’t kid yourself; having a pet aboard a boat (at one time or another) is a liability. When you’re out at sea and things turn ugly, the last thing you want is a nervous dog underfoot. But it happens. When Sally was younger, we carried a collapsible kennel aboard that we’d set up in the aft head for times just like that. She hated it and used to howl like a banshee; but she was safe and we could take care of the boat without worrying about her. Now that she’s a ‘mature’ dog, she’s much more relaxed and only looks up at us with her big brown eyes to ask, “what’s going on?” before tucking herself in behind the salon table.

Be prepared. Like with anything else associated with cruising, it’s important to be prepared. Before we leave port, Sally has a long list of provisions to buy which, now that she’s older, includes prescription medicines. We may go several weeks without access to a veterinarian, so a medical kit aboard for Sally is a must. And our ditch bag wouldn’t be complete without dog food, her PFD and a spare leash.

We all need our space . . . even the dog. Over the years, David and I have found ways to be alone, even if we’re in the same room. But Sally prefers walls between us and has taken over certain areas of the boat – both heads, complete with comfy dog beds. If your dog isn’t pushy like our Sally, take a look around for a small, den-like space aboard. It’ll help bring them comfort when they’re nervous, sick or just ready for a nap.

It’s all about the quality time. We don’t have much time on earth with our furry friends and cruising is one lifestyle that allows us to make the most of it. Not only do we get to spend 24/7 with Sally, which is exactly what pack animals live for, but our lives have been enriched by the company of this ridiculous little creature who, even at the age of 17, continues to amuse and amaze us every day.

Creature Comforts Living Aboard a Boat Notes From the Dockside

15 Things That Make Life On The Water Easier (For Us)

Tuesday, October 15, 2013TheCambrians

Now that our cruising season has officially ended, I’m excited to get back to blogging about things other than destinations; and what better topic than some of the products that make our lives a little bit easier and more comfortable on the water. But I can’t claim the idea: It comes from The Monkey Fist website where you can find posts from other cruisers on this subject, and hundreds other.

So, without further ado, here’s our list of 15 things that make our lives more enjoyable (in no particular order):

1. Satellite Radio: We never thought we’d actually pay for radio, but it’s turned out to be one of our favourite sources of entertainment on the boat. Sure. We have an iPod full of thousands of songs, but most of the time we prefer to leave the DJing to the professionals. It’s a great way for me to get my daily news fix (much to David’s chagrin) or just kickback in the cockpit watching the sun go down while the sound of electric blues fills the air. And because we’re currently cruising the Pacific Northwest, we have service whether we’re anchored in some of the world’s largest cities or in the remote wilderness – all without commercial interruption or channel surfing! It’s also flexible enough to meet the demands of our lifestyle: We can cancel coverage any time we like without paying a penalty and start it back up just as easily.

2. Heated Mattress Pad: I know what you’re thinking. But in this damp climate, it’s a godsend. On cold, rainy days when we have to run the generator, we plug in the mattress pad and heat it up. We may not go to bed until hours later, but when we do, it's still warm and dry.

3. Hydronic Heating System: The first thing David did when we arrived in the PNW five years ago was have a heating system installed. Even during the height of the summer, mornings can be cold up here and a little heat circulating through the boat helps keep things warm and dry. In addition to making life more comfortable aboard, it has the added bonus of extending the length of our cruising season into the spring and fall.

4. A Good Camera: Cruising in one of the world’s most beautiful areas (if not the most beautiful) requires a good camera. For us, it's the Pentax K-5 Digital SLR.

5. An Everyday Camera: There are just some places where it’s not practical to bring an expensive SLR and that’s where our everyday cameras come in. We have a small Panasonic Lumix (DMC-TZ3) that we can just throw in our pocket without fear of losing or getting wet. And a more advanced Lumix Superzoom (DMC-FZ150) that’s larger in size but still lightweight and more portable than the SLR. Neither one is water resistant (which would be an excellent feature) but were chosen for the quality of their lenses (Leica).

6. iPad with RAM Mount: From e-books to weather data to chart plotting, the iPad has turned into one of the most useful tools we have aboard. AND it makes life easier.

7. Library Card: On the water? Absolutely. Especially if your library has an electronic collection. You can be thousands of miles away and still check out the latest e-books or audio-books. Just like a regular library loan, it only stays on your iPad or Kindle for a few weeks, but it’s a great way to expand your reading list without additional costs.

8. Dustbuster: With a dog aboard who sheds A LOT, daily shore trips into rainforests, and two smokers aboard (I know, I know) our little Dustbuster manages to keep the boat clean all season.

9. Folding Dock Cart: On those long walks to the grocery store or laundromat (even not so long ones), the dock cart makes the job easier and doesn’t take up much space.

10. Sonic Toothbrush: Regular visits to the dentist aren’t always possible, especially in the US where it can take months to get an appointment for a cleaning. Our Sonic Toothbrush helps see us through those (sometimes) long periods without professional care.

11. No-Spill Dog Dishes: Sally may be beautiful, but she’s no delicate flower and makes a real mess when slopping up water from an ordinary bowl. These doggy dishes keep water off the floor and out of the bilge.

12. Inflatable Kayaks: Clear decks are important to us and inflatables allow us to have all the toys we want without cluttering them up. They’re also more stable in the water and easier to get in and out of from the transom of a boat. They’re not as efficient through the water, but we’re going nowhere fast and don’t mind a bit.

13. Microfibre Sponges: This is sort of a silly one but they really have made my life easier. Not only are they washable (and therefore reusable), they do a GREAT job of getting crumbs out around fiddles.

14. Electric Fly Swatter: When you cruise the wilderness, the bugs can be BIG and plentiful, and we often find ourselves in deer (or horse) fly territory. Even if we close up the boat, they find their way in and aren’t detracted by mere bug spray, so electric fly swatters are our only defense against these pesky creatures that bite through jeans. Besides, they provide hours of entertainment for David (who has already broke two of them in over-zealous attempts to protect his woman).

15. Indoor Hobbies: It’s been known to rain a time or two in the Pacific Northwest and being able to stave off cabin fever is vital, so we both have several portable hobbies. David’s favourite is music. He can play just about anything you put in front of him and has two guitars aboard (an acoustic and an electric) which come in handy for beach gatherings, music festivals or just passing the time. For me it’s knitting. I learned how to knit when we first arrived in the Pacific Northwest and have been addicted ever since. Not only is it compact, it’s practical and passes hours of the day in the blink of an eye.

From Our Home to Yours . . . Merry Christmas!

All Is Lost: Hollywood Misses the Mark

Having Guests Aboard: Our Top Eight Ways to Survive

Advice for Freshman Cruisers . . . With Dogs

Sally enjoying the beaches of Calvert Island along the Central Coast of British Columbia.

15 Things That Make Life On The Water Easier (For Us)

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