As we approach the one-year anniversary of moving aboard Sorella, it’s time to reflect on how life has changed. Our priorities are so different, and yet, it’s interesting how many of our old habits remain.
Like most Americans (or maybe most humans?), we still look at our phones first thing in the morning, but now we check the weather first. The cruising community brings “talking about the weather” to new heights. We marvel at how, before Sorella (BS), the most critical feature of the weather was the temperature, and now, temperature is the last thing we think about. First and foremost, we look at the wind. We look at the wind ALL THE TIME, multiple times a day, from multiple sources, because although we don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, we do need one to know which way it’s blowing later. Three or four weathermen, just to be safe… We plan our lives around the wind and the waves (which are caused by the winds).
We’re currently in the Bahamas, most of the way through our approximately 11-week tour. We did some research and chose which areas we’d like to visit, with a loose timeline, because although we may plan WHERE we want to go, we are beholden to the weather to determine WHEN. We’ve skipped places we wanted to see and stayed longer in places we’d seen enough of, always waiting for the right “weather window” for sailing and the right locations for protection from bad winds and big seas. If the winds are high and shifting a lot, what starts as a comfortable, stable anchorage turns into a rocking and rolling carnival ride, and may include a few terrifying anchor drags–yours or someone next to you.
If it’s a sunny day, we move the boom to one side of the boat or the other to maximize solar panel exposure and charge our house batteries. We take advantage of the dry weather to open all the hatches and air out the boat. We plan provisioning trips ashore for nice weather, since our car, Little Sister, is a convertible. If we get a big rain, Sorella gets a shower and we can fill our water tanks with free water rather than using a lot of energy on our watermaker (aka desalinator). We keep a close eye on our house batteries and our fresh water supply. We are spoiled compared to other sailboats, but it isn’t like living on land in America, where one may take for granted the unlimited supplies of water and electric power.
Another item formerly of much less importance is the tides. BS, the tides primarily either made it easier or harder to get on and off the island in Maine because of the effect a ten-foot tide had on how steep the ramps would be. The tide would also dictate which route you might want to avoid (which we were painfully reminded of last summer when we ran aground). Now, we have to pay attention to high and low tides not only regarding the depth of water (and how hard it will be to climb onto a dock from Little Sister), but also the currents they create through various cuts (aka passages between islands). If the tide and wind are in your favor, you can fly through a cut at ten knots with a five-plus-knot current. Yeehaw! Maybe the tide is in your favor but the wind is not, and if neither are in your favor, that can make for a very uncomfortable or very dangerous ride–or both. Imagine trying to motor your vessel against a six or seven knot current with the wind pushing against you, through a narrow and rocky passage, and that there are other boats trying to navigate through also… Let’s just avoid that scenario altogether, shall we?
Here are some other things we think about on a regular basis:
- Is it secure?
Will it go flying with a big wave? Is it on silicone or does it need to be stowed? How big are the seas? If they’re big enough, silicone may not hold it and it needs to be stowed. Power boats and dinghies going flying past all the time when we’re at anchor, throwing an enormous wake and upsetting all manner of things. Open container laws are strictly upheld on the boat (well, they should be, and we’re reminded why too many times). Are the doors latched and are rolly things in drawers stabilized, or will we be awoken in the middle of the night by the equivalent of Chinese water torture? - Eek, MOLD!
Boats are damp, and mold is inevitable. You can air it out, wipe it with vinegar, use Damp-Rid (aka calcium chloride, a chemical we used in the brewing industry to adjust water pH, which also works to absorb moisture from the air), and endless other solutions, but just plan on pulling out those shoes or hats or books and finding them covered in mold. - Will the plan work?
In the cruising world, “plan” is a four-letter word. Sailing to a schedule is dangerous, and we spent the first three months on our boat doing just that, to get back to New England in time for Henny’s memorial. It makes you take undue risks. Having visitors or crew join us on the boat means being in a specific place at a specific time, winds and weather be damned. We can either find a nearby marina–always pricey and added risk for the cats getting off the boat–or an anchorage, and hope the winds are favorable so we don’t have a very wet and uncomfortable dinghy ride with the guests and their luggage followed by a rolly and uncomfortable stay on the boat. - Lights On?
Back when we lived on land, we always liked to make sure to leave lights on so we wouldn’t come home to an unwelcoming, dark house. It’s even more important now, when driving a dinghy through an anchorage and landing it at a moving boat. Plus, we want to make sure other vessels see our boat, too. Safety first!
We have learned so much, and have much more to learn. We are so grateful for the amazingly generous, protective and sharing cruising community, which we’re happy to be welcomed in as family. It’s been an amazing adventure, and it’s really just begun.
