S.V. CAMBRIA: May 2016

Los Algodones | Visiting the Dentist (Part One)

Saturday, May 28, 2016TheCambrians

I've been putting off visiting the dentist for years, too many years in fact, using excuses like it takes months to get an appointment and I'm never in one place long enough. That's true; but when you get right down to it, I was just being a big fat chicken: I knew there was a problem with one of my teeth and I was afraid it was going to mean a root canal, something I really, really wanted to avoid . . . so I did.

I didn't initiate the visit. It was David. There were several issues he needed to address for himself and the estimate he received in the

was way over budget. So, we decided to look south of the border for more affordable options. I started with a simple Google search and read through some RVing blogs. One place kept popping up in my research – Los Algodones,

Mexico

. Meanwhile, David discovered a company called Dental Departures (more on that in the next blog).

Los Algodones is a small, 5-block town that sits on the border of

Mexico

and California, approximately 10 miles west of Yuma, Arizona. Until the 1980s, it was a popular tourist destination for shopping and dining but as the need for inexpensive prescription drugs and medical care in the US grew, so did the number of pharmacies, eye doctors and dental offices in Los Algodones. The town shifted its focus from tourism to medicine and today most of the shops and restaurants have been replaced by more than 300 dentists who deal in every specialty from basic cleanings to dental implants.

We actually made our first trip in early December after visiting family in Las Vegas. But it wasn't until March that I mustered the courage to make an appointment for myself (okay, so David made it for me before I could wimp out again). And, after an amazing week camping in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, we moved on to Yuma, Arizona and a hotel for a few days to start the next leg of our journey: getting me to the dentist.

Why Los Algodones?

The answer's simple: logistics. If we were going to seek dental care outside the

, we wanted to be able to access it easily by car and Los Algodones fit that bill to a 'T'. The border is conveniently located off I-8 and day-parking is available on the

side in a large lot professionally run by a local Indian tribe ($6 fee). Walking across is straight-forward and easy (though some people drive) with only a 20 to 30 minute wait on return during the busy season (there was no waiting when we went in December).

Los Algodones also promised to be less expensive. I'm not sure if it's true or not, but most clinics claim a savings of up to 70% over US prices. In my situation, it was closer to 80%. When it comes to the work David had done, it's difficult to know. He chose an entirely different option than the one he was quoted for in Washington but the savings were in the range of 73%, possibly more.

Safety played a role in our decision as well. In 2007, we spent nine months in

Mexico

and experienced a couple of incidents that left a bad taste in our mouths, primarily an encounter with the local police which resulted in paying a bribe. But everything we read online claimed Los Algodones was a safe option, free from the corruption we'd encountered previously and our experience confirmed that. There's a relaxed attitude on the streets and people are friendly and eager to help. The only nuisance we encountered were the dozens of men hawking for dentists but, honestly, they were more amusing than annoying and all part of the local colour.

This blog post is starting to get a little long, so I'll stop there and pick up the rest of our story next week (we're off to an area without internet or cell coverage for a few days – yay, us!). In the next post, I'll write about why we chose the clinic we did and our personal experience. But before I go, I'll leave you with this little interesting geographical tidbit: no matter which of the four cardinal directions you travel from Los Algodones (due north, due south, due east, due west), you end up in the

United States

. Pretty cool, huh?

Checking in with Customs

Sunday, May 22, 2016TheCambrians

Taking a walk out to Turn Point Light on Stuart Island is one of the many ways I've been keeping busy this week.

When the week started, we were in the

U.S.

and now we’re not. We’re in an entirely differently country. For most cruisers, that would mark the end an epic journey. For us, it was a simple matter of five miles.

Checking into a new country can be an officious process and, over the years, we’ve had our fair share of run-ins with customs – all from the

U.S.

side. From the benign encounters with bored officers who seem to take great pleasure in pointing out a perceived mistake to the constant badgering in attempt to get us to import the boat, something that’s never going to happen.

The most serious incident occurred in 2014 when we were checking out and had the misfortune of drawing the duty of Officer Holmes (whom I believe has since transferred out of Friday Harbor). For whatever reason, he was confrontational from the minute we walked through the door and did his best to make the process painful to the point that I was embarrassed to call myself an American. The big issue, of course, was the boat’s British registration. He wanted us to import it and wasn’t interested in our reasons for not doing so (of which there are many). Honestly, I don’t really know what happened because I had to excuse myself and leave the room before I said something to worsen the situation – the guy was being that big of a jerk. After 30 minutes of asking the same questions over and over, he finally decided he wasn’t getting anywhere so he consulted with a colleague behind closed doors. We have no idea what was said, but he returned with a different attitude and happily checked us out of the country (I’m guessing it was something like, “quit acting like a complete jerk and let these people be on their way”).

At this point you’re probably asking yourself why we had to check out of the country when everybody else is just free to leave. Here’s where things get a little confusing. When we brought Cambria into the country in 2007, she was issued a cruising permit which allowed her to remain in US waters for one year. Under the permit, we could leave without checking out. That changed in 2009 when we forfeited our permit and were issued a Standard Entrance which required us to check in and out of the country, but without the one year limitation. When we arrived in Ketchikan last May, the officer issued us another cruising permit (while complaining that the people in Friday Harbor didn’t know what they were doing). The point being, this year we didn’t have to check out and it made our lives so much easier . . . and more enjoyable.

Welcome to

Canada

I read a lot of cruising blogs and am always interested to learn how much people have to pay when checking into a foreign country – $200 here, $300 there, perhaps a small gratuity on top of that for the officer’s time – all while running paper work from customs, to the bank, to immigration and back to customs in some countries. And I thought it might be interesting to know what’s involved in checking into

Canada

Go to a designated Canadian customs dock (there are 14 to choose from in British Columbia).
Pick up the phone at the dock.
Someone in Ottawa will answer and ask you questions (how long would you like to stay? do you have any firearms aboard? any alcohol or tobacco? any fruits or vegetables? etc.).
The agent issues you a permit number.

And that’s basically it in a nutshell. This year, however, there was a little more involved. David was told that someone would actually be coming down to board the boat but one of the officers recognized him from previous years and said, “I don’t need to see your boat. I know who you are. Come up to the office and we’ll get your entry number.” The whole process took a total of 20 minutes (10 of which David spent chatting with the custom’s officer). And how much does it cost? Absolutely nothing.

Coming back into the

is a little different. Boats 30 feet in length or more have to pay an annual processing fee of $27.50 to enter the country, something that really irks one of our friends who cites the fact that you can drive across the border for free so there shouldn’t be any charge for boats. He has a good point but, compared to other countries, $27.50 is a bargain. According to Waggoner Cruising Guide (which is likened to the bible around here), all US and non-US boats are required to pay the fee, but that’s never been our experience. For us, it’s always been $19 for a cruising permit or $19 for a Standard Entrance, full stop.

Of course, checking into a foreign country, whether it be the

U.S.

Canada

or some exotic port, requires knowledge of custom’s restrictions and any overages or non-permitted items need to be declared and/or left behind. We spend six months in Canadian waters, so we bring in extra beer and wine (which are very expensive here) along with massive amounts of pipe tobacco and cigarettes (I know, I know but you really don’t want to be around David when he’s out of tobacco, which runs about CA$40 for a 50 gram pouch – ouch, and I find that one cigarette after dinner is something I really don’t want to give up even though I know I should. We’ve been doing this for several years, declaring the overages every time, and customs has yet to require us to pay duty. As long as we keep the items on the boat and they’re for our own personal use, it’s a non-issue. They’re just happy that we’re being honest and upfront.

So, now that we’re in

Canada

, what have we been up to?

As I said, after an epic 5-mile journey, we’re now in

Canada

where we’ve been for the last five days and have found ourselves at a bit of a loss without a real cruising plan in place. We left Kingston three weeks ago and have only made 140 miles to the city of Nanaimo since then – by this time last year we were in Alaska (though we did leave a month earlier). We’re hoping that some friends on another boat will catch up to us in a couple of days and we’ll all make a trip to Princess Louisa Inlet together, one of British Columbia’s most beautiful fjords. But until that happy day arrives, we’ll just have to content ourselves at lower latitudes and in busy anchorages. Somehow, I think we’ll survive.

Fireworks in Nanaimo to celebrate Victoria Day weekend.

How about you? Have you had any memorable experiences with customs on or off the water? Join the conversation below in the comments section or on our Facebook page – we love to hear from you!

Boat Maintenance Throwback Thursday Tips for Living Aboard

How to Polish Diesel Fuel

Thursday, May 19, 2016TheCambrians

This blog post was first published on Three Sheets Northwest, on online boating magazine local to the Pacific Northwest, in February of 2015. The original article can be read here.

We were motoring up Fitz Hugh Sound along the Central Coast making our way to Ocean Falls on June when the engine started hunting, fluctuating 150 RPM from where it was set. It’s always a concern when there’s something going on with the motor, but the symptoms were consistent with a dirty fuel filter – something David was planning to change out once we got there – so he eased the throttle back a bit, which seemed to help. The next day he replaced the old fuel filter; and when we left Ocean Falls, the engine was running smoothly again.

Fast-forward to October and issues with our diesel-powered hydronic heating system: We had started getting flame-outs about 12 months beforehand, which coincided perfectly with a dying house battery bank. Ever the optimist in search of the easiest solution, I thought the problem resulted from low voltage and would resolve itself once we replaced the batteries. David (the mechanical engineer and practical one) wasn’t convinced, so he changed out the fuel pump along with the filters and we were back in business . . . for a while. But there we were, months later, plagued with flame-outs; it was starting to look like we’d picked up some bad fuel along the way.

To check, David disconnected the fuel lines (supply and return) to the heater’s boiler and installed temporary lines that he ran from a jerry can that contained fresh, clean diesel. The system tested well: The hydronic loop heated up quickly and the cabin fans went online in less than 10 minutes (a big improvement over recent start-up times). Similarly, the domestic water Aquastat was quickly satisfied – all with no flame-outs.

Our questions had finally been answered: We had “The Bug”.

Getting Rid of the Gunk

Our fuel system is set up so that diesel can be drawn from all three tanks (starboard side, port side and forward) simultaneously. The fuel is then run through the engine’s filtering system before it flows to the engine and the excess is fed back to the port side tank. Because the fuel in this tank had already been technically “polished”, we were confident it was clean . . . or at least the cleanest. The forward tank sits higher than the other two and feeds directly into the starboard side. This tank was already empty, so we knew the only fuel we had to remove was on the starboard side.

First, David built a pump system to empty the remaining fuel from the starboard tank. From Cambria’s log:

The fuel transfer rig consisted of a piece of 3/8-inch OD Type copper tubing about 6-feet long to be able to reach all the way to the tank bottom; two pieces of matching-sized clear hose, one connected to the pump intake, and the other as discharge into the buckets; and a 12-volt Facet Cube fuel pump (a spare for our Hurricane Heater).

When I set up the fuel transfer/polishing "rig" I was in two minds about installing a bank of filters (10-5-2 micron) ahead of the pump, and finally decided that would have cost more than the value of the fuel I was trying to clean. Instead I elected to pump the fuel directly out into buckets in order to really see what was living in the tank. Then, depending on its condition, either return it to the tank via Baja filter, attempt to "polish" it chemically and return it filtered to the tank, or discard it entirely.

With the transfer rig in place, we started to remove the diesel from the starboard tank and placed it in clean white buckets. Initially, the fuel coming through the lines was clean with no obvious signs of contamination – approximately eight gallons or so. Once we started to see particles in the fuel, we stopped pumping. David then treated the “clean” fuel with a shock dose of Bio-Kleen biocide and transferred it to the port side tank, filtering it through the Baja filter as he did.

We continued to remove the rest of the fuel from the tank:

The remaining seven gallons of diesel were obviously contaminated – black particles, held in suspension ranging in density and size from negligible to significant, trace “smudges” to small pieces, yet still large enough to clog the fuel pump periodically during the transfer operation. The amount of contaminant drawn from the tank also varied as the suction tube was moved around within the tank. As the fuel passed through the pump, the algae/growth particles were broken down and blended into the fuel.

Very surprisingly, I chemically treated the "molasses" fuel and allowed it to stand overnight. By mid-next day, there was a heavy black sediment in the bottom of the buckets and the fuel was perfectly clear and ready to be filtered back into the tank. From a total of 12 -15 gallons drawn from the contaminated tank, the quantity of fuel unable to be re-used amounted to less than a half gallon.

With as much of the sludge removed from the tank as we could manage, we then filled all three tanks to 100% with fresh diesel and treated them with the following products from Power Services:

Bio-Kleen Diesel Treatment (kills microbes in diesel fuel): a shock dosage for all three tanks.

Clear Diesel Treatment (removes water and contaminates from diesel fuel): a maintenance dosage for the port and starboard tanks.

Diesel Kleen With Cetane Boost (injector cleaner): a shock dosage to all three tanks.

How Much Did We Save?

Out of curiosity, David contacted an all-service fuel company in Everett to see how much they would charge to polish our tanks. For a two-man team to come out to the boat, the hourly rate is $215 plus travel time. Assuming the job took two hours, the cost to us would have been in the neighborhood of $700.

Here’s what we actually spent:

Copper Pipe: $10

Clear Hoses and Fittings: $10

Diesel Treatment: $70

Fuel Pump: $0 (we used a spare; a new one costs $40)

Total: $90 (and an afternoon’s work)

It’s been over a year since we polished the fuel and, so far, the heater has been performing very well. We did start to experience occasional flame-outs again after a couple of weeks but the problem was resolved by cleaning the deposits from the burner nozzle on the boiler. The engine is also running well, but there’s likely some debris sitting at the bottom of the tanks that we weren’t able to reach. The biocide, however, would have killed the algae and kept it from growing further.

Arizona Camping

The Great Outdoors | Organ Pipe Cactus National Wilderness

Tuesday, May 17, 2016TheCambrians

We didn’t know much about Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument before we went. For example, we didn’t know it’s the only place in the

U.S.

where the organ pipe cactus grows . . . or what an organ pipe cactus was, for that matter. We didn’t know that’s it’s a UNESCO biosphere reserve and a Globally Important Bird Area. And we didn’t know that it was deemed the nation’s most dangerous park and was mostly closed off to the public until 18 months ago.

I’m not sure if this last fact would have dissuaded us or not but if it had, we would’ve missed out on an extraordinary camping experience.

The park is located in southern Arizona along the border with the Mexican state of Sonora. Because of tighter policing in the surrounding areas, illegal activity was inadvertently funneled through the park where security was more porous and thousands of migrants and drug smugglers used it every year to enter the

U.S.

In 2003, a ranger was shot and killed by fleeing Mexican cartel members, prompting the closure of most of the park to the public and measures to improve security. The nearby Ajo U.S. Border Patrol Station increased the number of agents from 30 to 500 and the Department of Homeland Security added towers and 35 miles of pedestrian and vehicle barriers. At the same time, the National Park Service tripled the number of rangers from 3 to 15 and has shifted its focus from closing areas of the park to educating visitors about the potential dangers, working closely with the Border Patrol to achieve this goal.

The approach is working. Since the park has fully reopened day-visitors have increase by 25% and campers by 41%. But the problem of illegal migration and smuggling still exists. The Border Patrol arrests approximately 20 people a day in and around the park boundaries and park rangers discover human remains in the desert, on average, once a month. Signs warning visitors of the dangers are posted throughout the park but it’s not something that was ever a safety concern for us or other visitors – people coming into the country illegally aren’t interested in being seen.

The 516 square mile park is incredibly diverse and is home to 28 species of cacti with the greatest concentration in and around the slopes of Ajo Mountain. The mountain’s also where you'll the greatest concentration of wildlife: mountain lions, javelinas, coyotes and desert tortoises. It’s also home to the best hike (in my opinion) in the park: Bull Pasture.

The park provides several services including ranger patio talks at the visitor’s center, shuttles to trail heads, a ranger-led visit to Quitobaquito Springs (can’t really recommend that one), guided ranger hikes, ranger programs at the amphitheatre and a ranger-led Mount Ajo van tour. The 21-mile Ajo Mountain Drive is a highlight of the park and not to be missed, either by the van or personal vehicle.

The Twin Peaks Campground, at first glance, seems pretty generic. It’s basically shaped like a large bell with row after row of campsites, 208 of them (34 tent-only and 174 pull-through RV sites), and not someplace that would normally appeal to us. But it’s well thought out and incorporates the beauty of the desert in its design giving campers a front row seat to the best show in the house: the sun setting over the vast Sonoran Desert.

Do you like camping? Where do you like to camp? And where’s your favourite campground? Join the conversation below in our comments section or on our Facebook page – we love hearing from you!

Living Aboard a Boat Sum It Up Sunday

First Steps

Sunday, May 15, 2016TheCambrians

Camping New

You Rock, Rock!

Wednesday, May 11, 2016TheCambrians

Camping Living Aboard a Boat New Mexico

Camping Anyone?

Monday, May 09, 2016TheCambrians

We hadn’t planned on going camping. In fact, we hadn’t planned on being away from the boat much during the winter. I was going to fly to Wichita to spend Christmas with my family and David was going to stay aboard Cambria to start tackling his to-do list after a long cruising season. But then we received an invitation to spend Thanksgiving in Las Vegas from one of David’s sons saying it had been too long since he’d seen us – he was right, it had. So, we packed up the truck and hit the road, fully intended to be back in January.

From top left to right: Our sweet suite in Las Vegas (thanks to David's son), one of David's granddaughters racing in a soap box derby, my niece picking me up at the airport in Philadelphia to start a 1,300 mile drive to Wichita, me and my niece in Casey, IL in front of the world's largest chair, my niece in front of the world's largest pitch fork, me and Santa, my 97-year old grandma opening the present I drew for her, and me and David on Christmas morning.

But then it started to rain.

Not in Kansas where we spent the bulk of the winter but in the Seattle area where we berth the boat. And it didn’t stop until April. There was no reason for us to come back, not unless we wanted to spend our days hunkered below decks just waiting for the chance to get outside to tackle the brightwork. So, we lingered. And then we lingered some more.

I have to hand it to my mom. I’m sure it’s exciting when we first arrive and take over the lower level of her house; but after a month or two, I’m imagine she’s ready to have her space back. To her credit she never said a word but by the time month three rolled around, I decided we needed to come up with a plan.

It was still raining in Washington, so there was no point going home. Even if we wanted to leave, I-80 to the north was a mess and had been most of the winter so any westerly movement would have to happen through the south. We both needed to see a dentist, something we’d been putting off for years. So, it seemed like a good idea to take advantage of logistics and make a trip across the border to

Mexico

(more on that in a future blog) on our way

Hatching a plan.

I decided we should camp our way back to the boat. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I have this “thing” for late-winter camping. And my practical side (i.e. David) was distracted when I was putting together a plan, allowing me to run rampant. Which is exactly what I did.

It’s not that winter camping is a bad idea. It’s not. It’s just that our last attempt didn’t go very well (or the one before that): It snowed, it was cold, it was windy and we encountered a drunken fool who decided it would be fun to shoot off a handgun and say things like “I’m going to light you up.”

So, why on earth would I decide to give it another try? The answer’s simple: What practical side I have usually loses out to optimism.

The first of March rolled around and we needed to go. Saying goodbye is never easy; it’s the worst part of this lifestyle. But we’d put it off long enough, and it was time to finally get moving. Our first campsite out of Wichita was one we already knew: Oliver Lee Memorial State Park near Alamogordo, New Mexico to visit White Sands National Monument – 275 square miles of gypsum sand dunes and a World Heritage Site.

We were off to a good start . . . .

How about you? Have you done any late-winter camping or do you have a favourite place to camp? Join the conversation below in our comments section.

Alaska Reflections on Cruising

Alaska by the Numbers

Friday, May 06, 2016TheCambrians

What does it take to cruise from the Seattle area to Southeast Alaska in your own boat? Miles. A lot of miles. Most of which will be done under motor. And to go along with those miles, you’re going to need a lot of time and patience.

You probably won’t need as much time as us. We’re pretty slow when it comes to cruising and we like to take our time, enjoying stops along the way. We dropped our lines on the first of April and didn’t tie up again until the end of October. That’s the total number of days you’ll find listed below, but the actual amount of time we spent in Alaska was three months with about two weeks of travel on each side (i.e. four months altogether). I should add that some of the days we spent waiting for the weather to clear, it would've been safe for us to be on the move. However, one of the reasons we went was to view the scenery, a lot of which was hidden by rain and low clouds.

Our daily distance number below doesn’t represent the whole story. Towards the end of the season, we spent several weeks in and around the Gulf Islands (British Columbia) where the distance between anchorages was often less than ten miles. A more accurate number for passages on our way north and while we were cruising Alaska was approximately 50 miles or more (which means we were underway 7+ hours most travel days).

Cambria motoring up Tarr Inlet in Glacier Bay National Park.

The Inside Passage runs in a northwesterly direction and the wind generally comes from that quadrant during the summer months. It is, however, light. That coupled with narrow inlets and channels means the opportunities to sail are few and far between. Over the course of seven months, we never raised our mainsail and threw out the jib for a downwind push only a handful of times: Motoring, unfortunately, is the norm.

*this number includes time for anchor up/down, oil changes, and maintenance.

Brrrrrr!!! It's cold in Alaska . . . even in July!

It’s difficult to imagine cruising in the Pacific Northwest without a heater aboard, especially in the higher latitudes. Ours is a hydronic system that’s fueled by diesel and consumes about a third of a gallon for every hour of use. The boiler is located behind our berth and wakes me up when it cycles during the night, so we only run it during daytime hours.

Our energy needs were primarily filled from three sources: alternator output, the solar panels, and a portable generator. The fourth source, shore power, came from the few nights we spent tied up in marinas.

For a closer look at David's handy-dandy graph, click on the jpeg.

As you can see from the numbers, spending a season in Alaska can be costly in terms of time, miles, and fossil fuels consumed. If we could sail there and back, I think we’d both be happy to make the trip again – we saw and did some amazing things, after all. But the chances of that happening are pretty slim, so we'll just have to content ourselves on sights a little closer to "home" this season, starting with British Columbia's Gulf Islands and see where the wind carries us after that.

Los Algodones | Visiting the Dentist (Part One)

Checking in with Customs

How to Polish Diesel Fuel

The Great Outdoors | Organ Pipe Cactus National Wilderness

First Steps

You Rock, Rock!

Camping Anyone?

Alaska by the Numbers

Welcome Aboard

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