Unusual Gifts

Have you ever read O. Henry's “Gift of the Magi”? It's one of our favorite short stories and perhaps one of our favorite love stories, too. To give up something of yourself that you truly value in order to give joy to another is the ultimate idea of generosity and love. We don't exchange expensive gifts any more. (No matter what David says, a new dinghy engine or a whisker pole is not a gift in my book.) When we do, they're usually small in monetary value, but significant in worth. Cutting my hair wouldn't net me a penny (in fact, they'd charge me $50) and David has no watch fob to sell. We have to improvise. As we've traveled, we've received many, many gifts over the years. Those that have the least to give always seem give the most. Perhaps it's the thought and the amount of effort that go into some gifts that make them all the more special. I make a distinction here between bartering and outright gifts. Some gifts were exchanged; others were simply a token of friendship with no thought of remuneration.

In New Zealand, we met a Maori fellow who enjoyed carving bone and shells. He was an excellent craftsman and much of his work was in paua, New Zealand's beautiful opalescent abalone shell. Seeing his work, David asked if he'd ever tried working with nacre, the black pearl oyster shell of French Polynesia and he admitted, though he'd seen it, he'd never had access to any. We had lots aboard, gathered from shell piles in the Gambier and we made a trip back to give him some. He showed up at the boat a few days later with some kiwi feathers that he'd gathered from a kiwi nest. A gift, he said, to thank us for the shells. Totally unnecessary, and so very appreciated.

I became fast friends with Veronica at Suwarrow Atoll. She and her husband, John, and their three boys lived six months a year on a remote little island as caretakers for the Cook Island's only national park. We had learned before we left Bora Bora that they were out of propane and several other basics. There were no scheduled supply ships stopping at Suwarrow for the season. We arrived with a propane tank, some sugar, a blown-out mainsail and several other problems. Only accessible by boat, Suwarrow was frequented in season by hundreds of boats making their way across the Pacific. Most spent a few days and moved on. We spent three weeks trying to get our repairs done.

Vero realized from the start that we had lots of work to do and made room for us to get it done ashore. When there was a pot luck and I didn't have time to get back to the boat to prepare something, she'd always tell me she had made more than enough for our contribution, no worries. She'd bring down coconut water or a cup of tea during the day while I was repairing the sail on the beach. While other cruisers were visiting some of the atoll's many islets, David and I were working on our repairs. Finally, when we were finished, John and Vero offered a “private” tour with them of some of the off-limits islands which were breeding bird sanctuaries. When we left Suwarrow, I gave her one of my sundresses that she had admired so much. She gave me a bouquet of red-tailed tropic bird feathers. (Note: female tropic birds lose their tail feathers when they're nesting and Vero just collected them … she didn't pluck them!). Those feathers still reside on the boat in a place of honor.

In Vanuatu, Natu, the first grade teacher, was a sweetheart. It was easy to bond with her in the way women do. She was a mother of five, university-educated and lived in a thatched hut in a small village on Aneitym. We met at the school and spent many hours there and at her home, chatting about teaching and the importance of education for her village's children. While David helped the village men with solar panels, Natu showed me the many uses of taro. I held her baby and washed her. I found some needed school supplies for the kids … glue sticks were in high demand. When we left, she presented us with a hand-woven palm basket full of fresh fruit, vegetables and local flowers and a wonderfully, endearing hug. I was so moved, I nearly cried. What a lovely parting gift.

Black pearls in French Polynesia, tiny white pearls in the Cook islands, bead bracelets and molas from the Kunas of Panama, Pisco from fellow sailors in Peru, fresh fruit and veggies, cray fish, carvings, baskets ...the list goes on of the gifts we've received in our travels. Unsolicited, generous giving on the part of our hosts as signs of friendship. We are so often overwhelmed with the life we lead and the people we meet.

More than three decades ago, when asked what I'd like for some obscure holiday, I remember telling David in jest that I'd like a new ring. He obliged within hours, crafting a paper clip into a piece of “fine” jewelry. I wore that ring for a month till my finger turned green. I still have it, though I admit I don't wear it much … us, being on a boat and it, being fine jewelry and all. The spontaneous sweetness of it keeps it in my memory and reminds me how a simple, thoughtful gesture, no matter how small, can mean so much.

So, to all of those people who make the 90-day rule come true and to Tim from Wisconsin who named some of my website butterflies for me and Phil in Sydney who sent us a jump drive with thousands of e-books and Gonzalo who keeps us supplied with sunscreen despite the fact he's in Peru and we're always in some obscure place and Miks in Maine who makes sure we have an email every day when we're at sea and so many others of you whom we've never met and who continually send us well wishes and good energy … we thank you most sincerely for your generous gifts!

The Blue View - Prepping Cups for Storage

Saying goodbye to Nine of Cups, even for a couple of months, is always difficult. She looks so forlorn, sitting high and dry, as we leave. We'll try to make it up to her with some new paint on her topsides and new varnish on her brightwork when we return, but in the meantime, she's clearly unhappy.

There are always a number of things that must be done to prep her for an extended stay on the hard. In some climates, like the cool days of Tasmania or the hot dry days of South Australia, the list isn't all that long. When we are leaving her in a hot, tropical climate like Trinidad or Panama, however, there are a number of other things that should be done to prevent an outbreak of mold or an infestation by the local critters.

We have a checklist (yet another of David's @*%* checklists!) of things to do before leaving Cups for any length of time on the hard. We've never left her in a place that was likely to drop below freezing, so our list doesn't contemplate prepping her for the cold, but it does address the additional things that should  be done when leaving her in the tropics. We thought it was pretty complete until we made a new friend here in Trinidad who is the real expert on the subject. Frederick VerPlanck, aka Fast Fred, has been spending part of each year in Trinidad for longer than we've been sailing. He's put together a much more comprehensive list, and I added several things to our list after reading his. Here are the highlights of what we do.

Heads. The heads will really stink if left for more than a few days with seawater in the intake hose or pump. I drain the intake line to the head, then pump fresh water mixed with a little mineral or vegetable oil through the system. Then I fill the bowl with fresh water mixed with a few teaspoons of bleach and seal the top of the bowl with plastic wrap to keep it from evaporating.

Bilge. The only time our bilge high water alarm has ever gone off was when we were on the hard in Uruguay. We had shut off the automatic bilge pump, and enough rain water made its way into the bilge to slowly fill it up. Now I remove the water speed transducer, which is located low in the bilge. Any rain water that collects in the bilge will run out of this thru-hull before it gets deep enough to set off the high water alarm. The same thing could be accomplished by removing the hose from a thru-hull and leaving the valve open. I leave a big note on the saloon table to remind myself to replace the transducer before we splash.

Dehumidifier. We rent a dehumidifier to keep the interior humidity low, which helps prevent mold from growing. We saw a boat in Panama that was left for a few months without one, and the walls and header were coated with black mold when the owners returned – nobody's image of a warm homecoming. We set the dehumidifier over the galley sink, so water from the hose and any drips will go down the sink drain. All cabinet doors and drawers are opened to help dry them out, and we put dryer sheets in all the clothes drawers. Since its operation depends on shore power, we arrange to have someone check on the boat once or twice a week to make sure it is working and that  the shore power hasn't been disconnected.

Vermin.  Rats, roaches, ants and termites are common in boatyards. We seal or screen every opening we can to make it as difficult as possible for them to find a way below. Since the sink drain and the speed transducer thru-hulls are open, we stuff these with stainless steel scrubbers, which block most vermin, but allow water to drain out. We sprinkle boric acid liberally on counters and the edges of the sole, and make up dozens of roach cookies as treats for any roaches or ants that do make it aboard.

Bees, wasps and birds like to nest in our boom, so we stuff a rag in the end to prevent them from getting in.

Refrigerator. Marcie cleans out the fridge, turns it off and leaves it with the door open. She stores a bowl of baking soda inside.

Food. Any perishable food is removed. Any open containers of food, condiments or staples that could conceivably go bad are given away or dumped. With the boat closed up and the dehumidifier running, it is going to get quite hot inside, so anything that can melt is eaten or removed. (We were forced to eat the last few remaining chocolate bars in the days before our departure from Trinidad).

Power. With the fridge off and most of the DC and AC circuits shut down, the solar panels have no problem keeping the batteries topped up. If anything, they are likely to become overcharged unless a reliable solar power regulator is in place to divert or disconnect the solar output when the batteries are charged.

Propane. We close the tank valves, then open the solenoid valve and burn off any propane in the lines. Then we close the solenoid.

Electronics. If the boat is in an area where the possibility of thunderstorms exists, we disconnect any antennas and power connections. We store handheld electronics in the microwave in the hope it will act as a Faraday cage and protect the circuitry from electromagnetic impulses.

Dinghy and engine. We stow the dinghy on our foredeck and cover it with a tarp. I add a fuel stabilizer to the dinghy fuel and run the engine in freshwater for several minutes to flush it out. Then I shut the gas line off and let it continue to run until the carburetor runs dry.

Flags and halyards. I remove all flags and burgees, and tie off the halyards to prevent them from slapping against the mast or shrouds.

Security. On occasion, we've had a few things go missing from the boat while it was being stored. Now we remove or lock everything on the deck that might find 'legs' in our absence. The hatches are secured and the companionway locked. We leave the combination with the boatyard in case of an emergency.

Fred's list is much more comprehensive, and he has given us permission to distribute it. If you would like a copy, send us an email and we'll happily send it along to you.

Boxing Day 2015

Boxing Day, December 26th, is a national holiday in many British Commonwealth countries. It's not celebrated very much in the USA although my sister, Lin, celebrates it in fine fashion visiting or hosting friends. The tradition stems from “Christmas boxes” or presents given to servants the day after Christmas (because, of course, they had to work on Christmas Day). Many servants also had the day after Christmas off to spend time with their own families.

Boxing Day allows an extension of the Christmas holiday and some recovery time before the New Year's celebrations. With Christmas on a Friday this year, everyone gets a long, long Christmas weekend. Time to get away on a holiday or spend more time with friends and family. If you're in the UK, perhaps you might go on a fox hunt. Here, sports and after- Christmas-sales shopping seem to be high on the activities list.

It's also the start of the Sydney-Hobart race. A few years ago, we were at Sydney Heads on a friend's boat as the race participants flew past on their way to Hobart. The following year, we were in Hobart to watch the racers arrive. This year, we'll have to be content to see the results on the Internet.

As for us, we'll be busy entertaining more family and friends at Lin's house. The festivities are never-ending. We'll cook some more, eat some more and drink some more and then contemplate our plans for New Year's Eve … and beyond.