Sailing Intermezzo: The Voyage

By Stephen Cox

THIS IS A SAILING STORY about a voyage from San Francisco to New York and a man's struggle with love. The sailing adventure is as chronicled in the author's Sailing Intermezzo blog, full of descriptions of natural beauty, sailing skills and mistakes, weather challenges, boat breakdowns, land excursions, foreign cultures, family friendships and more. The love story draws from deeper, more personal sources and introspection, a more emotional tale. The stories combined are of a voyage through outside and inside space, of realizing a dream and building the foundation to become a better man from the experience.

The Voyage was originally conceived as a fun, challenging adventure, a break from life on land. It doesn't turn out that way, is almost abandoned, but becomes a lifeline, something to grab and hold onto as life stormed on. This is a story about a journey that was very significant, a revelation of deeply personal experiences, one of personal growth and maturation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350914313

Book preview

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Copyright © 2022, 2023 by Stephen J. Cox

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at the address below.

Stephen J. Cox/Self Published

P.O. Box 151

Penngrove, CA 94951

therealstevecox.com

Book Layout ©2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

Book Cover Design by BookBaby.com

Ordering Information:

blog.sailingintermezzo.com

Sailing Intermezzo/Stephen Cox. —1st ed.

Hardcover: ISBN 978-1-66789-686-1 (with color photos)

Softcover: ISBN 979-8-35091-430-6

eBook: ISBN 979-8-35091-431-3

Printed in United States of America

To my mom, who taught me how to love unconditionally.

To my dad, for buying me my first boat and setting me free.

Contents

Introduction

Prologue

Preparations and Goodbyes

The California Coast, Petaluma to San Diego

The Baja Ha-Ha, San Diego to Los Cabos

La Paz and the Sea of Cortez

The Pacific Coast of Mexico

El Salvador

Nicaragua

Costa Rica

Summer 2016 Lay Up

Panama

Back to Mexico

Winter 2016-17 Lay Up

Return to the Sea of Cortez

Hiatus

The Voyage Resumes, La Paz to Ixtapa

The Voyage, Ixtapa to Puerto Chiapas

The Voyage, Puerto Chiapas to and through the Panama Canal

The Voyage, Panama to Isla Mujeres

The Voyage, Isla Mujeres to Florida

The Voyage, Florida to North Carolina

The Voyage, the Final Leg

Epilogue

Egregious man, boat, voyage, life.

The fool smiles and sails on.

―WEBB CHILES

Introduction

This is a book about my sailing voyage from San Francisco, California to Long Island, New York via the Panama Canal, hereinafter referred to as The Voyage. I wrote about the journey as it progressed in my Sailing Intermezzo blog. My mom was the inspiration for writing this book. She’s been a loyal and encouraging reader since I started the blog and, after I completed The Voyage, asked if I could print it out so that she would have a hardcopy. That seemed easy enough, so I readily agreed.

It was a bit more difficult to convert the blog to printable form than I originally figured, but I got it done. When I received the conversion and looked it over, I decided that it would be nice to divide the blog up into chapters and write a short preface for each one. As I began writing the chapter prefaces, I referred to my personal journal to remind myself what the journey was like for me, inside. I realized that I had written the blog as a travelogue and that I wrote very little about my personal life or how I was feeling beyond the context of sailing. I decided to add insights drawn from my journal to the chapter prefaces to add more personal perspective to the story of my voyage. And thus, printing out the blog for my mom turned into writing this book.

I wrote the blog on the fly and decided to preserve its character and style by making only minimal edits. As a result, this is a long book, and the writing isn’t as polished as it could be. To be consistent, I didn’t try to fine tune the writing of the chapter prefaces, either.  For better or for worse, there’s not much between what you read and how I express my original thoughts.

I have been very careful to write honestly and only from my own subjective perspective. I have avoided guessing what others were thinking or feeling and have only quoted words that I’m certain were spoken. If my perspective causes any pain or discomfort to anyone, I’m sincerely sorry. I admit to being concerned that by sharing aspects of my private life, some may think less of me as a man but, if they do, so be it. I was what I was, I did what I did, I am who I am.

I’m not sure what to make of this book. For me, it is a story about a journey that was very significant, a revelation of deeply personal experiences and feelings, and a chronicle of personal growth and maturation. Yet I have the humility to also realize that it’s not that big a deal, it’s just a story about sailing a boat and of a privileged man’s woeful struggles with love. I can read it either way

Prologue

I grew up in the town of Patchogue, on the south shore of Long Island, New York and along the Great South Bay, a shallow body of water separated from the Atlantic Ocean by Fire Island, a long narrow barrier island of wetlands, dunes and sandy beaches.

My sailing life began in 1970 when my dad’s friend, Mitch Silbert, invited us to go sailing on his Pearson 26 on nearby South Oyster Bay. I was nine years old and fell in love with the boat the moment I stepped aboard. I observed intently as Dr. Silbert explained how the boat worked as we enjoyed a summer’s day sailing. I remember the thrill of holding the tiller in my hand, steering the boat as it slipped through the water, feeling proud when Dr. Silbert told my dad, He’s pretty good at this. I also spent quite a bit of time below in the small cabin, imagining what it would be like to live and sleep aboard a boat.

My dad became interested in sailing and that winter we went to the New York City Boat Show. It was the best place I’d ever been. I scampered aboard dozens of boats, small ones, big ones, sailboats and power boats, poking around in cabins, galleys, heads and lockers. I collected a big bag full of brochures for boats, motors, equipment and accessories.

Back home, I went meticulously through each piece of literature, studying different models of boats and engine specifications, looking at pictures and dreaming of what boats (note the plural!) I would own. I entertained myself in a fantasy world of adventures with a fleet of boats in my imagination.

The next spring, my dad bought me my first boat, a 10-foot, flat-bottomed aluminum Jon boat from Sears. At first, the boat was powered by oars. I rowed that little boat many miles, back and forth along the shoreline of the Bay and up and down the creeks that flowed into it. We later acquired an ancient, cantankerous British Seagull outboard and then I had my first power boat. It was only a little boat and the British Seagull barely made five knots at full throttle, but it was mine, and I loved it.  In my little boat I felt gloriously free, independent, and capable.

A year later, my dad bought a sailboat, a well-used 14-foot O’Day Javelin, and together we set about learning how to sail it.  Dad had a basic understanding of sailing theory and would suggest to me what he thought we should be doing and I would figure out how to do it. Dad was a cautious man, I was a fearless boy, together we were a great team. Our sailing skills and confidence grew rapidly, mine more quickly and naturally. For the first time in my young life, I could do something better than my dad, the highly intelligent and athletic man that I so looked up to. That felt good.

A year later, I was 12 years old and sailing the Javelin more frequently with my friends than with Dad, often crossing the Bay to go to the beaches on Fire Island. I sailed the Javelin and other people’s boats all through my middle school and high school years, acquiring enough skill and experience to see myself and be acknowledged by others as a good, competent sailor.

I left Long Island when I was 17 to study engineering at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. I joined the sailing team and raced on 420’s, but never really enjoyed racing, nor sailing on inland waters. My joy of sailing was refreshed whenever I made trips back home in the summer to take the Javelin out sailing on the Bay.

My graduation from Penn in 1982 marked a long hiatus from sailing. I was in a committed relationship with Carol, a woman I met couple of years earlier, and together we built our careers, moved to Arizona, explored the desert by Jeep, traveled around the world, moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, built a house and brought two children, Luther and Hannah, into the world. My life was full and rich with work, kids, the house, and travel for work and pleasure. Sailing just didn’t fit into the picture during those years, yet my childhood dreams of owning a cruising boat and voyaging endured.

Carol and I separated in 2001 and I found myself living on my own for the first time in 20 years. I had advanced to an executive position in my engineering company and enrolled in an MBA program to fill in the gaps in my understanding of business leadership and finance. I became good friends with a fellow student, Renée, a friendship that later turned into a romantic relationship.

I had become an avid reader of Latitude 38, a West Coast sailing magazine, which regenerated my interest in sailing and voyaging. I saw an ad in the magazine for the annual sailing boat show at Oakland’s Jack London Square and invited Renée to go to the show with me. We strolled along the docks, boarding boats to look them over, and around the exhibit hall, browsing around boat gear and equipment. A local sailing school had a booth at the show and was offering a 2-for-1 special on a package of lessons leading to bareboat certification. Renée responded enthusiastically when I asked if she was interested in learning how to sail, so I signed us up for lessons.

Renée had never sailed before and I had never taken a formal sailing lesson, so the classes were fun and worthwhile for both of us. We progressed steadily through the classes, enjoying the often-challenging conditions on San Francisco Bay and moving from smaller to larger boats. By the time we earned our bareboat certifications, Renée had become a competent sailor and we had learned how to sail well together.

Now that I had a sailing partner, I started looking for a boat of my own. In 2003, I bought Ariadne, a 1983 Pearson 37 racer-cruiser. Renée, Luther, Hannah and I sailed that boat almost every weekend and took short cruises in the bay, along the coast, and up the Sacramento River delta. We also chartered boats in the British Virgin Islands and Belize for vacations. I supplemented all this by crewing on racing boats. My 20-year break from sailing had come to an end and the door had opened for me to realize my childhood sailing dreams.

After a few years, Ariadne began to show her age, requiring more maintenance than I had time for, so I decided to buy a newer boat, one that I could sail singlehanded. In 2007 I bought a 2003 Hanse 342, mainly for its self-tacking jib and beautiful African mahogany interior. I renamed the boat Javelin in honor of the boat my dad bought 35 years ago and on which I learned to sail. We continued our practice of sailing nearly every week, taking short cruises on local waters, and doing bareboat charters further afield. Sailing was now fully integrated into my life again.

Around 2010, I realized that my financial position was such that I could potentially stop working and embark on a sailing voyage in five years or so. I talked this over with Renée and she was game for setting this as a goal. In 2011, my successful regional engineering-environmental firm merged with a much larger international company and my financial situation stepped up significantly. I had the financial security to allow me to leave work in a few years to go sailing and I could afford a nicer boat for our voyage.

The big question for my next boat was, Monohull or catamaran? Monohulls sail better than catamarans and I enjoy sailing them more.  But catamarans are a much nicer platform for living afloat; more stable, more room. I figured that around 90% of our time on the boat would be lying at anchor rather than sailing, which favored a catamaran. But I was reluctant to forgo the upwind sailing performance of a monohull. I was on the fence until we chartered a Leopard 39 catamaran in the Windward Islands of the Caribbean for a 10-day test cruise. I discovered that I could sail the boat singlehanded all day in boisterous trade wind conditions and not be tired at the end of the day like I would be from sailing a monohull. Plus, my beer didn’t spill while I was sailing. The decision was made. We would buy a catamaran. The Leopard 39 was our first choice based on its build quality, strength, maintainability, and affordability.

I signed a purchase agreement for a new Leopard 39 in the summer of 2012. The boat was built in South Africa and launched in late October.  The 3-person delivery crew set sail from Cape Town on Hull A4135 and arrived in Oakland, California on February 1st 2013, an 11,000 nautical mile journey via the Panama Canal. I took delivery on February 8th and Hull A4135 became my now beloved Intermezzo.

I chose the name Intermezzo from all the words I could think of related to the concept of a transitional break. I considered sabbatical, intermission, interlude, entr’acte, etc., and various word combinations. I landed on intermezzo, an Italian word meaning a brief entertainment between two acts of a performance. I liked the sound of the word and that intermezzos of operas often provide comic relief to the drama of the main performance either side of them. I didn’t want to take our sailing break too seriously.

Renée and I sailed Intermezzo as often as we could to get accustomed to the boat and plan its outfitting for cruising. We discussed different options for a voyage and decided on a two-year cruise from San Francisco to my childhood waters of Long Island via the Panama Canal. We set October 2015 as a departure date and began planning and living our lives accordingly.

Big changes were on the horizon. We would be quitting our jobs, moving all our stuff into storage, renting our house, finding someone to care for our two cats and two goats.

Everything moved along pretty much as expected, except for one big thing. In 2014 I fell in love with another woman, Stephanie. My love for Renée hadn’t diminished, I cherished our relationship and didn’t want to end it. I told Renée about Stephanie and, despite feeling hurt and unhappy, she accepted things as they were and was willing to let them unfold as they would.

In February 2015 we had to make the final go/no-go decision for The Voyage. I still had strong feelings for Stephanie but wanted to embark on The Voyage with Renée.  Renée was faced with a difficult decision. Was she willing to leave everything behind and go with me under such circumstances? She made the supremely brave choice to do so, for which I will be forever grateful. My respect for her courage and self-confidence, my gratitude for her love and loyalty, my love for her, remain with me to this day.

We committed to moving ahead as planned, albeit with our relationship not standing on the firmest of ground and began to make the final preparations to depart on The Voyage.

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chapter 1

Preparations and Goodbyes

My Sailing Intermezzo blog began on July 7th 2015. I had just ended full time work so that I could get Intermezzo ready for The Voyage. I had many items on a To-Do list and several big boat projects to get done by the beginning of October so that we could depart in time to join the Baja Ha-Ha rally from San Diego to Los Cabos, Mexico.

One of the boat projects nearly killed me.

I was grinding fiberglass inside the engine compartment. I had draped plastic sheeting over the engines to protect them from the dust. My angle grinder got caught in the plastic sheeting, flew across the compartment, and cut into the back of my left hand, opening a serious wound. Just seconds before, I had lowered my head to look at the work and my neck had been right in the path taken by the grinder. It could have easily severed my carotid artery and I would have bled out in just minutes. Show over.

When the accident happened, it wasn’t that big a deal for me. I went to the hospital, got my hand stitched up, waited for it to heal and got back to work on the boat. Looking back now, I realize how lucky I was and how close I came to never even starting The Voyage, not ever doing anything again. How horrible it would have been for my family. How sad an ending to my life. I am so, so grateful for my good luck.

Life got intense as our departure date drew near. Renée was busy getting the house ready for our tenants/caretakers/friends Beth, Dan, Ray and Lauren. We both were realizing how big a change we were making to our lives, how much we were going to miss our home, our family, friends, and pets. We were stressed, we got into arguments. We asked ourselves, Why are we doing this?

I was so busy that I really didn’t miss my professional career and work life. That change and transition would sink in later. Reading my journal from this time, it’s all To-Do lists, notes on parts and vendors, calendars and work plans. It doesn’t reveal any of my inner thoughts and feelings or the struggles with my love life. I wish I had written about those things; all I have now are faded memories.

Renée and I got through all our preparations and began saying our goodbyes.

I remember feeling mostly excited about going on an adventure, relieved and satisfied for having completed a lot of work, a bit fearful that I was making a mistake, and sad to be leaving my home, Stephanie, my best-friend goats, Lola and Daphne, and our cats, Thor and Xena.

On October 3rd 2015 we hosted a Bon Voyage party for family and friends on board Intermezzo in the Petaluma River Turning Basin.

Just two days later, The Voyage began.

First Blog Post

Tuesday, July 7 2015

Petaluma, California

Well, this is the first post on our Sailing Intermezzo blog which will chronicle our sailing sabbatical.

On Monday I officially transitioned from full time to part time as-needed employment so that I can focus on getting the boat ready. This is a big change in lifestyle and I'm feeling a bit unsettled, but I'm sure it will feel more comfortable with time. Keeping busy with boat projects helps.

Renée is still working full time but also diligently working on projects to get the house ready for the tenants/caretakers who will occupy it while we're away.

Among the dozens and dozens of items on the To-Do list, the critical boat projects to get completed over the next two months are:

Get our anchors and ground tackle sorted out so we can sleep at night and leave the boat on the hook with confidence.

Install our storm drogue system to weather the worst oh shit conditions at sea.

Set up our satellite communications system to receive weather updates, to stay in touch and let people know where we are, and for emergency communications.

Install an inverter so that we have AC power on board for computers, tools, etc. (and to make espresso and blended drinks).

Install a watermaker to convert saltwater to fresh for drinking and showers.

Install a solar array to charge the batteries.

I'm also selling a lot of used boat gear and other stuff we don't need to lighten up, declutter, purge and offset the costs of new stuff we do need.

Next week we're taking a short cruise to the Delta to enjoy anchoring out and swimming in warm, fresh water. I'm determined to make progress on the To-Do list while there.

60 Days Until Departure

Saturday, August 1 2015

Petaluma, California

It's August 1st so that means only 60 days to go until we leave. We need to get seriously productive. August will be our big push month for boat and house projects so that in September we can prepare logistically, socially, mentally and emotionally for our departure.

Yesterday I started installing the chainplates at the stern of each hull for our Jordan Series drogue, the device we'll deploy in big seas when we want or need to slow the boat down and keep it pointed the right way. I got the starboard chainplate dry-fitted and it all went smoothly and looks good. I need to finish the install by epoxying in the backing plate, bedding the chainplate with sealant and installing the rest of the bolts. Then I have to do it all over again on the port hull. I'll post details and photos of the installation to share with others when I'm done.

Yesterday was also Renée's official last day of work, although she keeps reminding me that she has one last business trip in September to finalize her transition out. Stopping work is a really big deal to her and I think knowing that she has that trip still out there brings her some comfort.

I spent most of today at a nautical flea market in Sausalito, selling sailing stuff we don't need to offset the cost of buying the new stuff. It was a reasonably successful venture, although the flea market culture is new to me and a very different business environment than what I'm used to! I have strong preference for eBay, which I've been using extensively to sell stuff, both nautical and terrestrial.

There were a lot of long time live-aboard boat people at the flea market. Observing some of them (not all!) as I embark upon my own sailing lifestyle I am vowing to, 1) maintain decent personal grooming, 2) wear decent clothes, 3) stay in decent physical shape, and 4) not drink too much. I'll take stock of how I'm doing a year from now.

Design and Procurement

Monday, August 3 2015

Petaluma, California

Today I immersed myself in ABYC (American Boat & Yacht Council) standards to finalize the design of our main solar power system and our AC inverter power supply circuit. I am now fully versed in overcurrent protection, GFCI and ELCI requirements. I probably noodle on this stuff more than necessary because I am an engineer, but I strongly believe that having a fire on a boat miles from shore really sucks and believe that an abundance of caution is warranted when mixing AC electricity with salt water.

I purchased the inverter and today and will order the main solar panels and charge controllers tomorrow.

I developed project plans for installing the solar system, inverter, watermaker and upgraded (electric) marine toilet.

Holy crap, I have a lot of work to do!

A Setback, But It Could Have Been Worse

Tuesday, August 4 2015

Petaluma, California

I resumed the installation of the starboard drogue chainplate this morning. I draped light plastic sheeting around the interior of the engine compartment and over the engine for dust protection and then set to removing paint/gelcoat with a sanding disc on my angle grinder to prepare the surface for bonding the backing plate to the hull.

The light plastic was a mistake, as was not wearing work gloves while operating an angle grinder, even if it was in sander mode. The airflow from the high RPM spinning disk sucked the plastic into the shaft of the grinder and, since I was restraining the plastic by sitting on it on top of the engine, the grinder hauled itself at lightning speed into my left hand before the motor locked up. I didn't feel anything, but when I looked at my hand, I was a bit shocked to see a gaping wound and parts of my finger's anatomy that should not see the light of day until I donate my body to science.

Thankfully I didn't hit any major blood vessels, so I got the bleeding under control quickly. I was working alone and there was nobody around the dock to ask for help. I called the harbormaster's office for help but the person who answered the phone was incompetent and of no use. I had to decide if I should call 911 or drive myself to the ER. I figured I had 15 minutes of adrenaline left in me that was keeping me alert, focused and out of shock. Google Maps said seven minutes drive time to the hospital, so I decided to drive. Apart from an agonizingly long red light and not having the right glasses on for driving, I made it to the ER with no major drama.

At first I couldn't move my finger properly and I was worried that I severed its tendon, but it turned out that there was no damage to it or the bone, just an ugly wound. A good wash and 25 stitches later, I was good to go. The doc and ER team at Kaiser Permanente were good and I'm grateful for their excellent and prompt care.

Thankfully there has been little pain from the injury, its treatment, or recovery (so far). I won't be able to use my left hand very well until the stitches come out, though. That's a big setback, as I have lots of work that needs to get done on the boat and was counting on making a lot of progress this month. Back to the drawing board to come up with a revised plan of attack and schedule.

But it could have been worse. Just minutes before the grinder attacked the plastic and me, I had my head bent down deeper into the compartment. I figure that either my cheek or worse, my neck, might have interrupted the trajectory of the angry tool. Now THAT would have been a really big setback!

As it turned out, I have just ended up with temporary augmentation for non-verbal (middle finger) communication to bad drivers and a permanent reminder on the back of my hand to be much more careful when working with tools. I hope my accident motivates all who read this to think and put safety first when tackling even the most straightforward projects.

Getting Closer to Power from the Sun

Friday, August 14 2015

Petaluma, California

Quite a bit of progress has been made over the past week.

The biggest achievement is the fabrication of the frame for the main solar panels. I'm writing this from the KKMI boatyard with the frame sitting next to the boat on the dock, ready to be lifted onto and installed on the hard top tomorrow morning. I'll post pictures after it's done. The two main panels will generate up to 530 watts of power. Together with the two existing 70-watt panels and a probable fifth 100-watt panel to be installed on the top over the helm station, we'll have a theoretical 770 watts of solar power generation. That should be enough to power all the boat systems, make 20-30 gallons of fresh water a day from seawater, and let me make a cup of espresso and blend cocktails at will. Green, carbon-free power!

I also got the starboard drogue chainplate installation completed and the port plate is 80% done last weekend, thanks to help from Luther and Stephanie.

I have the solar charge controllers and appurtenances and the DC-AC inverter ready to install as soon as the solar panels are up.

Dan, Beth, Ray and Lauren are going to look after our house, yard, cats and the beloved goats while we're gone...thank you, thank you, thank you!

I had my doctor look at my hand yesterday. We decided to leave the stiches in for a few more days while I'm working on the boat so I don't accidentally open up the wound. Bummer diagnosis, though. It seems like I severed a secondary lateral tendon which is why the main tendon on my finger keeps jumping from one side of the knuckle to the other. Especially when I type. Not sure if I'll need to get it fixed or not. We'll wait until the swelling goes down and the wound is healed. The doctor says I can get it done any time after that but doesn't think it will be needed. Given our departure timeline, it will probably have to wait until next summer. That will give me plenty of time to evaluate if a repair is necessary or not. It certainly feels uncomfortable and looks gross to me when the tendon jumps. Plus, I can't type for long, which will be a problem as I am going to try to write a book during this trip. Oh well, like I wrote previously, it could be worse. Way worse.

Curing Perfectionism

Thursday, August 20 2015

Petaluma, California

I realize that if I'm going to come close to daily posts on this blog, I will often need to be brief and to the point. Which is what I need to do tonight.

The boat is curing me of perfectionism. All the current projects are going very well. Very well, not perfect. I strive for the latter. It is impossible to achieve, especially when doing things for the first time in imperfect conditions. I am coming to terms with that. I think that will do me good.

The solar panels are installed. The inverter install is 75% done. We graded the site for our storage shed back at the house. The garage is getting cleaned and emptied. I did the first read of the installation manual for the watermaker- that's going to be a big project.

Both Renée and I are suffering from insomnia due to anxiety. We both feel overwhelmed by all that needs to get done in the next 41 days. More than that, our whole lives are changing. I've managed change in business for a long time and typically deal with it well myself. But the magnitude of the changes we are and will experience personally is big. We must face the fact that we are mere mortals and are affected by change just like other people.

Damn.

Bon Voyage, Sailing, Progress

Wednesday, August 26 2015

Petaluma, California

Our Bon Voyage party on Saturday at Iver's was great; good to see old friends who seem excited about our plans and genuinely wished us well. I felt grateful and a little bit more pressured, in a positive way, to depart on schedule.

We finally went out sailing on Sunday with my mom, who is visiting from Virginia, and Nicholas and a girlfriend who is visiting from Vermont. The log shows we hadn't been out since July 19th! That's the longest I've gone without sailing for a long while. It was a great sunny day with 18-22 knot winds. As usual, I sailed the boat while everyone else talked, ate, and drank. Not complaining.

Monday, continued cleaning garage to make space for Dan et. al.'s incoming stuff. It's going to be a dance, us moving out as they move in.

Tuesday, got the wires pulled from the solar panels to the charge controller. Some detail work left to do en route, but otherwise looks good and I'll have everything hooked up to start making power on Thursday.

Starting to layout the watermaker install; the last big project left.

Ordering the IridiumGo! satellite communication device today.

Getting insurance quotes; underwriters don't like Colombia, so might be changing itinerary a bit to lay up in Costa Rica or Panama instead of Cartagena as planned.

Good progress!

Leaving Home

Monday, August 31 2015

Petaluma, California

On Sunday I cleaned out and replaced the goats’ straw bedding in their pen. This time of year, the bedding lasts almost two months, so I won't be doing this chore again for quite a while. It's not a chore I normally give much thought to while doing, but this time it was a very poignant reminder of how life will change soon and how much I will miss the goats, Lola and Daphne, and our cats, Thor and Xena. Of course, I know I will also miss my human friends, The Ranch and the rest of beautiful Sonoma County.

As of tomorrow, only 30 days left. It's looking like we're going to make our October 1st departure date. Renée has made solid progress on the house of the past week. I laid out the watermaker components and ran the main plumbing lines today on the boat. The watermaker install doesn't seem like it will be as complicated as I envisioned. Hope I'm right!

This Is No Vacation

Sunday, September 6 2015

Petaluma, California

The month of August was one of the busiest months of my life. I'm amazed by the diversity of tasks that need to be completed to set off on a voyage like ours. I've blogged about the boat projects and mentioned Renée's equally arduous house projects, but those are just the main events. Orbiting around them are all the satellite tasks, like figuring out health insurance that works overseas and is Obamacare compliant to avoid penalties, getting boat insurance that allows us to visit countries not favorable to some underwriters, purchasing all the spare parts and miscellaneous gear to be properly equipped for the trip, picking the right communications gear and setting it up, making sure we have complete charts and cruising guides for where we're sailing, arranging for mail forwarding, deciding what to store and what to get rid of from home...and more, all on top of normal life activities. Whew...it's definitely not a vacation.

I don't think this trip is going to feel like a vacation very often. With only two of us sailing, we'll be highly engaged with keeping the boat safely heading in the right direction without crashing into something, with only snippets of sleep between watches. I expect we'll have a pretty long list of loose ends to tie up and projects that we still want to get done on the boat to keep us busy when we're at anchor. Plus, we will either be doing preventative maintenance so that stuff doesn't break or be fixing the stuff that does. I have heard some people define cruising as fixing your boat in exotic places.

If it's not a vacation, why are we doing this? Well, primarily because it is an adventure. It's stepping out into unknown territory (for us) where we need to be totally self-reliant, a physical, mental and emotional challenge. It's a learning experience, in many ways, at many different levels. It's a bonding experience (or perhaps the opposite?) for our relationship.

So far, despite the hard work and stress, I'm finding the experience to be a relief from the boredom of the routine, a healthier, less sedentary lifestyle, and a welcome re-emergence into my love for designing things and the process of turning ideas into useful things. Yep, I'm an engineer-geek-tweaker at heart (among other things.)

One of my sailing heroes is Webb Chiles. He writes,

People who know of me at all probably do so as a sailor; but I have always thought of myself as an artist, and I believe that the artist’s defining responsibility is to go to the edge of human experience and send back reports.

Compared to what Webb has done, sailing-wise, Renée and I are taking a pleasant cruise on a luxury yacht. Yet it is true for us, that we will often be going to the edge of our individual human experiences and so maybe this trip we're taking is a form of artistic expression. Well, for me at least. Regardless, it doesn’t feel like a vacation now and I'm pretty sure it will only feel like one in the future on rare occasions.

A few side points: Good progress on the watermaker. It's not piped, wired or tested yet, but I'm happy with how it fits and looks in the starboard bow. Somehow, I drank the case of Lagunitas IPA I had on the boat last month. Time to replenish, but in the interest of maintaining my recently arrived at healthy low weight, I'm buying replacements in the tiny bottle size. 

Coping Strategy

Friday, September 18 2015

Petaluma, California

Renée and I hit the wall last weekend, overwhelmed by preparing the boat and house and the ever-decreasing number of days before our planned departure date. After a mutual freak-out and intense sharing of feelings, I decided I needed a coping strategy.

Renée already has one; she just keeps stoically plugging away, gets up earlier, and goes to bed later. Hers may not always be the most efficient strategy, but it works for her and she maintains continuous progress.

Me, I need to stop, analyze and develop a plan of attack. My progress stops until I figure something out. Our strategies tend to reinforce each other, but also can be a source of conflict and frustration.

My coping strategy was to take paper and pencil and layout two pages in my notebook. The first page is a list of all significant tasks that remain to be done arranged in timeline columns with headings Must Do to Leave, En Route, and Later. The second page is a three-week calendar. I took all the tasks under the Must Do to Leave column and fit them into the calendar. The result: We won’t be leaving on October 1st. It’s just not possible. But we can get close.

If all goes per my revised plan, we should be able to depart on October 3rd or 4th. That’s a bit better than our original October 1st target because it allows us to leave on a weekend so that people who want to can wave goodbye from the dock. More importantly, they can buy me drinks the evening before!

We’re almost a week into the plan and actual progress is tracking closely, but not perfectly. We hope not, but the schedule might end up slipping a few days. That’s okay, but each day of delay will give us less time to enjoy sailing down the California coast and fewer days to just kick back and relax along the way.

The fixed deadline we need to make is the start of the Baja Ha-Ha rally in San Diego on October 26th. Working the schedule backwards, we need to arrive in San Diego by October 21st to re-provision, care for the boat after sailing down the coast, hook up with our Baja crew, and enjoy the pre-rally events. It only takes 3-4 days to sail non-stop for San Francisco to San Diego, but we’re not doing that! With only the two of us sailing and so that we can pick good weather windows, and for our mental health, we need a minimum of two weeks. That means we must leave no later than October 7th.

We now have a departure window- sometime between October 3rd and 7th.

Meanwhile, Renée is finishing house projects, I’m buttoning up boat projects and doing the final outfitting of equipment and supplies and we are both starting to box up the stuff in the house so we can start moving it into storage.

Today I’m going to install and activate our IridiumGo! satellite device. This will provide basic communication (text, simple email) and provide weather forecasts and routing while we’re sailing. When I get it working, I’ll send my first blog post via satellite.

The Final Stretch

Friday, September 25 2015

Petaluma, California

After a solid week’s work and some help from my marine industry friends, the boat is getting really close to being ready to leave.

The watermaker is wired up and I ran the pumps for a second or two each. I’m holding off on finishing final commissioning and testing until next week. Once you start using a watermaker, you have to keep using it at least every five days or biological growth fouls the membrane.

The new fresh water flush electric toilet is installed and working. I tested it with a banana. I laughed to myself while I was selecting the banana at the market, trying to figure out what the appropriate ripeness should be for my flush simulation. I had to use my imagination. You might not ever think of bananas the same after this. Sorry.

I worked with Roberto at KKMI to figure out what engine spares to carry and purchased them. Mostly filters and belts, but Roberto thought a spare raw water pump would be a good idea and I agreed. I also had the valves adjusted, a few hundred hours ahead of schedule. It turned out to be a good idea because Roberto said they were pretty far out of adjustment.

The mainsail is at Quantum getting inspected and serviced, promised back for next Wednesday.

We should get most of the house cleared out this weekend. We made good progress last weekend, although it was far more stressful relationship-wise than I would have believed. I think boxing up stuff brought forth a lot of suppressed stress, feelings and emotions. Plus, it was 90-plus degrees out. Plus, we have a LOT of stuff. Hopefully that’s behind us now and we will be on a sounder footing for this weekend’s effort.

Next week will be a busy one. Finishing clearing out the house. Bring the boat to Gilles’ for some rigging upgrades and bend the mainsail back on. Finish the IridiumGo! antenna wire installation. Install padeyes for our tethers and jacklines. See Rose for my last hometown haircut. Officially leave work. Get all the insurance policies confirmed. Start mail forwarding service. Order last items left on purchase list and have them shipped to Jeanne in San Diego.

We’ll bring the boat up the Petaluma River on Thursday to have it closer to home for loading it up with our personal gear and provisions.

There’s a lot to do, but it looks like there is a very good chance we will depart on schedule, October 3rd or 4th. That’s amazing!

I'm starting to say goodbye to people. It's a big deal. Especially when saying it to someone who you really care about and will miss.

Departure Plan

Thursday, October 1 2015

Petaluma, California

We're still scrambling to get stuff out of the house and moving the stuff we need to the boat, but a departure plan is firming up.

This evening, Renée will drop me off at the boat so I can begin to transition it from a floating workshop to a semblance of a floating home. I'll sail the boat up to Petaluma tomorrow and tie up in the Turning Basin. We'll move gear from home to the boat Friday evening and Saturday.

We invited our friends to stop by and visit us at the boat on Saturday to check out Intermezzo (though we are likely to be in a state of mild to moderate disarray and feeling a bit embarrassed about our appearance). We'll be back and forth during the day, but at least one of us will be on the boat to welcome visitors from 7pm until bedtime, whenever that is.

We will officially start our voyage on Sunday. I am going to schedule an opening of the D Street Bridge for us to pass through at noon. That assumes we have tied up enough loose ends at the house to be able to leave it with Beth, Dan, Lauren and Ray in good conscience. It's going to be close, but hopefully they will let us off the hook for the few loose ends that we leave untied.

Departure Update

Saturday, October 3 2015

Petaluma River Turning Basin, California

The house and boat will be ready for us to depart Petaluma as planned on Sunday. However, the wind forecast is not in our favor for our passage to Half Moon Bay planned for Monday. Winds on our coast typically blow from the north-west quadrant, perfect for sailing south. As fate would have it, winds are forecasted to come from the south on Monday, meaning that we would have to tack down the coast with 20 knots of apparent wind in our faces. The winds are predicted to decrease some and start shifting to a bit better angle on Tuesday, which will make for a more comfortable sail.

So, we will extend our stay in the Petaluma River Turning Basin until Monday and head out the Golden Gate on Tuesday morning, after anchoring Monday night at Angel Island. This schedule will also give us an opportunity to decompress, spend some time with Renée's mom and aunt, and tidy things up. For the record though, it was the weather that delayed us! (I'm taking my cue from the airlines on this!)

The boat is now loaded with all our gear. Surprisingly, it looks like everything will fit and the boat isn't sitting much lower in the water under the added weight. We still need to find a proper place for most of what we brought on board. For now, we have staging areas forward and aft in the port hull. We can then strategically open up spaces and fill them, much like solving a Rubik cube puzzle. Another advantage of a two-hulled catamaran. I'm not sure how I would approach this in a monohull.

I Get by With a Little Help from My Friends

Sunday, October 4 2015

Petaluma River Turning Basin, California

We had a very nice Bon Voyage gathering on the boat last night. This week I had been reflecting on how grateful I am to all the people who helped us get us to where we are now. Being surrounded by close friends and family intensified my thankfulness. Thanks Carol, Ted, Laura, Iver, Cindy, Saman, Beth, Dan, Ray, Lauren, Brigitte and Jean for a nice evening and the food, wine, champagne and gifts.

There are a handful of people in the Bay Area marine industry who I have gotten to know and become friends with over the last 12 years of boat ownership. They taught me a lot, did quality work and helped lighten my bank account when it was too heavy. Thanks to Bob Hennessey at KKMI for helping crane the solar panels on the boat on a Saturday morning and making the yard available to me for DIY work. Thank you, Gilles Combrisson at GC Rigging and Composites for installing the Code 0 bow sprit, looking over the rig, fixing the weak links and machining new reef line sheaves that look like jewelry.  Gracias, Jeff Thorpe at Quantum Sails for knocking heads together to get my newly serviced mainsail back on the boat on time. These folks work with teams of people who are friendly, professional and care about their work.

Though both Renée and I are very healthy, I'm grateful to the health care providers that help keep us that way and make sure we are good to go and have what we need for this trip. Thank you Mara Bertoli FNP at Santa Rosa Sports and Family Medicine, Jon Fitzpatrick OD and James Forni DDS, a fellow sailor who will be participating in the Baja Ha-Ha rally.

Thanks to all my friends at work who sent many good wishes our way, to Iver for keeping me in the loop while I was occupied with boat projects and to Ted, Alex, Dan, Rick, Sue, and Saman for our long friendships inside and outside the office. Thanks to my dear friend Stephanie for turning me onto yoga that helped me get mentally and physically prepared for the trip and for inspiring me to sail green. (Environmentally green, not seasick green, that is!)

Thanks to my family for your support and encouragement, especially to my dad who took me to boat shows in New York City when I was a kid and bought the O'Day Javelin over 40 years ago which ignited my passion and dreams about sailing. Thanks Luther and Hannah for going sailing with me, when you wanted to and when you didn't. Thanks, Carol, for making ex not be a bad term for us. Thanks, Mom, for your own enjoyment and enthusiasm for sailing. Thanks, Brigitte, for helping Renée get the house ready; you really saved the day. Thanks, Jean, for helping arrange the ranch truck, tractor and help with gravel, fences and moving. Thanks Christina and Nicholas for not telling your mom to get rid of me, even though I can be difficult.

While all the preceding gratitude is sincere and significant, what I am feeling most grateful for right now is that Beth, Dan, Ray and Lauren decided to live in our house while we're away. They have been flexible, understanding and patient as we have struggled to get things moved and the house (sort-of) tidied up. I know they will take good care of the house and goats Lola and Daphne and cats Thor and Xena. It brings me immense comfort to leave the house and pets in the care of my best of friends instead of strangers.  They made one of our biggest worries about leaving on this trip vanish completely. I want them to really enjoy living on the beautiful ranch that we call home.

And of course, thanks to Renée, for learning to sail, sharing a passion for adventure, working soooooo f*ing hard on the house, and putting up with someone who can be a mean SOB curmudgeon on his worst days. I couldn't do this trip without you.

CHAPTER 2

The California Coast,

Petaluma to San Diego

The Voyage began when we departed the Petaluma River Turning Basin on October 5th 2015 and then headed out the Golden Gate and turned left the next day. I grew into my sea legs during the 18 days of sailing along the California Coast to San Diego and learned how to sail Intermezzo longer distances in a wide variety of sailing conditions.

I began learning to let go of my fear of the unknown on an overnight passage from Monterey to Morro Bay in the dark, in dense fog. Intermezzo was bounding steadily along, surfing elegantly down a moderate following sea at a good clip. I couldn’t see anything beyond the bows of the boat. All I had to steer by were the chartplotter, the instruments, and radar. I took some comfort in the statistic that most of the ocean’s surface is unoccupied.  If there was something in front of us, I wouldn’t see it in time to avoid it and, at the speed we were traveling, hitting something hard would probably do some major damage, maybe even sink the boat. I was afraid.

I could have stopped the boat and sat there bobbing in the ocean, hoping something didn’t hit us. Or I could continue making way, accepting the risks. I chose the latter. My fear transformed into the attentiveness, exhilaration and acceptance of not-knowing, the feeling of fear replaced by adventurous joy. I felt the exhilaration of sailing on the edge of my experience and competency.

I’ve now sailed thousands of miles at night, most of the time not being able to see very far ahead. I’m careful, but don’t worry, even though we still might hit something. I admit to getting tweaked out by fog, though. I don’t like the stuff- it’s cold, wet and spooky. I feel comfortable, capable when I’m sailing at night, my attentiveness matched to the conditions. Sometimes I feel and enjoy the exhilaration like I did that night sailing to Morro Bay. If I feel fear when sailing, it manifests itself as heightened awareness and perception, readiness to act, a calm, quiet tension, an openness to whatever might happen. I try to draw on that when dealing with fear on land too, with people, relationships, problems. I’m still better on the water than off, though.

We enjoyed several stops along the way to San Diego, exploring, hiking, kayaking. We got acquainted with cruising life, freedom from work, a different pace and texture to our days. The photographs in the blog begin capturing the natural beauty we enjoyed all around us.

My memories of this leg of The Voyage are good ones. I don’t remember any real stress or tension during the trip. Renée’s memory is different; she says that I was tough on her, pointing out mistakes, being impatient, verbally cruel. She felt like she couldn’t do anything right. My mental health and hurtful behavior would get worse in the coming months, but I guess I hadn’t woken up to reality yet and that’s probably why I have no memories of acting badly towards her. And I couldn’t do anything about it until I became aware of it.

I can say with some confidence that our trip down the California coast was a great introduction and preparation for what lay ahead, and Renée would agree with me.