Women – Gecko Sailing

June 10, 2019

Paradise, Loose Pants, and Party Crashing

The secretary pointed at a corridor to her right. “First door on your left is customs”, she said. I had just arrived in to St. John’s Antigua and was preparing to clear in to the country. I thanked her and made my way to a door that was slightly ajar. Through the crack in the door, I saw a woman in a blue uniform with her head on a desk, snoring lightly. I knocked, then took a step back to give her time to compose herself. After a “come in” wafted through the crack, I pushed the door open and entered. The woman, who introduced herself as Sage, was sitting up and blinking. She motioned me to sit in front of her desk, and pushed over a stack of forms. As I started filling them out, I saw Sage stand up to fetch something from the other side of the room. Amusingly, she had unbuttoned and unbelted her tight pants while she was sleeping. Completely unfazed, Sage held them together with one hand while she walked across the room to grab a stamp. Not bothering to rebutton, she returned to her chair. Her composure was so impressive that I was convinced this was a normal routine for her.

Antigua customs officials turned out to be just as friendly as all the other Carribbean countries I’d visited. Sage was a motherly woman, concerned about my well-being and sanity for sailing alone. She gave me her number and said she wanted to put me up for the night in her house. She couldn’t envision that I was getting good rest on the Geck. I thanked her profusely but explained that my boat was my home, and I didn’t want to leave her for the night. I also wasn’t happy with the place I’d anchored and was planning on leaving once I was cleared in. We bid farewell, and I returned to Gecko.

The next three nights I spend in Five Islands Bay, halfway down the western side of Antigua. Five islands is a magical location. It’s a huge bay, surrounded by green hills. Most of the land around the bay is national park, so there were almost no houses in sight. Right in the middle of the bay is an island called Maiden Island. I anchored in the lee of Maiden, and didn’t see another person come within a mile of my boat for the next three days. The water was clear and beautiful, the air sweet, and the nights full of bright stars. I set up the sailing rig on my dinghy and explored the shallow head of the bay. It was lined with deserted white sand beaches and tangly luscious undergrowth. I had finally found paradise.

I ran out of freshies on day four. Since I don’t have refrigeration, it’s hard to keep fresh vegetables for very long, and I hadn’t provisioned for more than a few days anyway. I also needed to top up my water tanks and make a hardware store run. It was time for civilization.

Jolly Harbor is just around the corner, and the perfect place to resupply. I arrived early in the morning and completed my errands by the afternoon. Like a hopeless addict, I upped anchor and returned to Five Islands for the night, telling myself that I had to leave for good the next morning. My plan was to sail to Falmouth, which is located on the southern side of Antigua. However, I hadn’t factored in the strong headwinds, and after a full day of sailing, and two hours spent trying to get around the southwestern corner of the island, I gave up and headed in to Carlisle Bay.

Carlisle is a tiny bay with a little beach resort and not much else. I wasn’t crazy about the location, but it would be a fine place to stop for the night. I had just finished putting away my sails for the evening when two kayaks approached my boat. They were paddled by three jolly British vacationers. We chatted and I invited them onto my boat It turns out that they were three of one hundred and fifty pharmaceutical reps who were on a work retreat. They informed me that this was their last night and they were having a big party at the resort to celebrate. “It’s an open bar. You should sneak in”. I didn’t need to be told twice.

That night, as the sun set, I heard the beginnings of the party. There was a live band, and the colorful lights twinkled all the way out to my boat. I heard what sounded like speeches and clapping. When the chatter was replaced by music, I decided to make my move. Easing into my dinghy, I rowed silently towards the beach and tied up on a small dock at the far right. Once my feet touched the sand, I straightened up confidently, and strode down the beach. The key to sneaking is looking like you belong. As the dance floor came into view, I paused and scanned for the friends I’d met earlier. Perhaps they weren’t there. Should I just go back to my boat? Suddenly a flamingo shirt caught my eye and I spied three familiar faces by the bar. My friends loudly introduced me around as the American on the boat, and quickly realized that my initial caution was unnecessary. Everyone was friendly, and nobody seemed to care that I was crashing their party. They were a lively bunch, and the rum flowed freely. Literally. Their company was going to need a crane to pick up the tab we must have left behind. We danced and chatted until the wee hours of the morning when we all parted ways. I waved to my friends as they retired to their hotel rooms. As I got back into my dinghy and rowed home, I decided Carlisle Bay wasn’t so bad afterall.

April 20, 2019April 19, 2019

Beaufort to Culebra: 14 days alone at sea

March 27, 2019

Home (freezing cold) Home

March 2^nd was 38 degrees Fahrenheit and blowing. The airport had lost my bag, so I made my way to Gecko with just a backpack and a down jacket clutched around me. My mom was visiting for a break from the cold Maine winter, and she followed me down the dock wearing all the clothes she had packed. Luckily our friends Tim and Jennifer had loaned me a space heater, and we were soon huddle around the tiny white beast while I put the kettle on and grabbed blankets. I felt like I’d never left.

Not many moms would visit their kid on a cold, snowy, unheated boat

For my mom’s entire visit, the temperature never got above 50 (in the sun, out of the wind). She can do anything, so she never complained. When she left, her shorts sat unworn in the bottom of her bag. That was when my work began.

Day 1 of being home. Note the clean hair, nice clothes, and well-rested face. Yep, definitely day 1

My work list looked something like this:

-Working jib (get one)

– Fix stupid leaking anchor chain locker

– Sew new slugs onto main

– Sun shade (make one somehow)

– AIS receiver

– Waterproof foredeck hatch

– Get charts

My first task was acquiring a sail. My dad had loaned me his working jib for my trip down with the stipulation that I send it back to him when I arrived. I was trying to figure out how to get a used jib inexpensively when I ran into Crazy Joe and his newly purchased marine surplus store. Oriental is home to a large population of sailors, both transient and local. It also has a marine surplus store with a colorful history of owners and inventory. When I sailed in in November, it was under different ownership but I had gone in to check out their vast inventory of sails. Nothing was marked or organized, and I spend a fruitless morning sifting through jib after jib and finding nothing. When I came back in March, Joe had purchased the place and he offered me a deal: if I helped to measure and organize the sails, I could take what I needed in return. I agreed, and thus came into two beautiful new jibs.

Sail inventory at the marine salvage shop.

The other projects on my list were more straight forward. To waterproof the anchor chain locker, I first rebedded the hawseholes themselves. There was a tired gasket under each one, and the screw freely turned in the deck. I realized that most of the water that had been getting in was probably washing between the ports and the deck. This might have accounted for much of the large volume of water I’d been pumping out.

I entirely sealed up the starboard anchor chain port. The ports themselves are too big for the boat and are an enormous hole to have right in the front of your boat. I figured with half the hole volume, I’d get half the volume of water. I then bought an inspection port and installed it into the door of the chain locker. I used putty and boatlife caulk and sealed the door in place. That done, I decided to see how the locker did at sea before I drilled a drainage hole in the bottom. It’s always better to wait before you drill holes in your hull. Perhaps the water coming in will be insignificant enough that I can get it out with a pump occasionally and not worry about flooding the compartment.

Waterproofing the anchor chain locker. It’s so nice to work from bed

I’ve decided I would like an ais receiver for passages. If I can set a guard alarm for ships, I’ll be able to get better sleep offshore, and I’ll be able to hail them at night if I’m unsure of their course. I looked into several options, including a receiver with a wifi antennae that I could pick up on my iPad. However I soon realized that the cheapest option would be to buy a new vhf that came equipped with an ais receiver. That way I wouldn’t have to install a new antennae, run new wires, or spend a surprisingly large sum of money on the string of electronics I’d need to make the luxury of wifi work.

Wiring in my new VHF with AIS capabilities!

For a sunshade, I found an old sail and cut it to make it fit over my cockpit. I sewed a slit with velcro to fit around the toppinglift, and then lashed the ends to the mast and shrouds. My only complaint is that it’s a bit bulky, but it’ll be great for catching rain water and withstanding heavier winds without tearing.

I’m hoping to leave Oriental in the next few days! I still have a few projects to get done before I go, but I’m almost there. I’m so excited to get going!

November 23, 2018November 23, 2018

Homelessness and the Final Push

I left Cape May when it was blowing 20 knots in the anchorage. I was waiting for the wind to switch from the south to the northwest. As it swung around, it grew in intensity until my boat was bobbing around and the rigging was clattering for attention. I didn’t want to go out where it was blowing 20-25 with 7-foot seas. I had just come through enough weather getting to Cape May and I was sick of it. Why couldn’t it blow 15-20 with a nice gentle swell? I knew that if I didn’t leave, I would be stuck in Cape May for at least another three days because of another system that was due to roll through. Once again, my choice was to jump out between two storms. I was tired, my legs were covered in bruises, and I was sick of the cold, windy, wet overnighters.

D50652E1-FBD3-4696-9383-30FC969EA547 — Days of pre-dawn departures were starting to weigh on me

At around nine that morning, before the wind had finished shifting, I laid on my back in the main cabin and called my mom. My parents circumnavigated on their Cal 25, and sailed up in the Arctic on their 33’ sloop. They’ve seen more weather than most, and I felt like I needed a pep talk. My mom was sympathetic: “You should just go”, she said. “If you can handle a little breeze, you’ll be so glad you went. Otherwise you’re going to be stuck in Cape May hating yourself”. She was right. So I went.

0696B758-063F-496C-A1F4-6B9149AACD59 — Cozy mornings in my PJs are a rare treat compared to my usual pre-dawn departures

To prepare for another offshore trip, I had blocked up the anchor chain ports as much as I could with my limited resources on hand. The starboard hole, I sealed off with a plastic bag held in place with hair ties and sealed with putty stuffed into the cracks. The port hole was trickier because it had my anchor chain coming up through. After upping anchor, I stuffed a bunch of plastic bags in the hole and hoped for the best. I pulled back the v-berth cushions away from the locker and staged the pump. I was as prepared as I could be.

623FA1DE-7391-4091-B8C3-18175175F6B5 — Other prep involved making baked potatoes to stuff into my pockets on deck as homesteader-style hand-warmers

I unenthusiastically upped anchor and headed out into the swell. The waves were bigger than any I’d seen yet, although the wind wasn’t gusting to 35 like in Sandy Hook, so at least there was that. “See,” I told myself, “It could be worse.” Once the sails were up and Gecko was pointed in the right direction, I actually began to realize that this trip was going to be just fine. The wind was strong enough that I was making good speed without the thrilling gusts that dipped the rail under. The waves were large, but they were hitting me on the quarter, and Gecko was scooting along as happy as a clam, and just as wet, I thought to myself, as I turned up the collar of my jacket. I set the windvane and settled back in the cockpit to watch the sun ride across the sky and plop below the horizon. Once darkness hit, I started my routine of napping for 20 minutes, popping up on deck to check for ships and adjust my course, and then heading below again. It was so cold that I pulled my blankets over my head and curled up in a little ball to get warm. Right when I started feeling cozy, my alarm would go off and I’d have to get up. I slept in my full foulies, sea boots, and harness, because it was so wet in the cockpit, and every second I spent adjusting my gear was a second I wasn’t spending sleeping.

B113204D-2857-45FD-AEC4-D5FF05F37102 — Another boat sailing next to me. Nice bottom paint!

I kept up this routine until about one in the morning. There was a shoal that I was going past and I wanted to keep my eye on it until it was safely behind me. I went below and pulled the sleeping bag up to my chin, but instead of going to sleep, I kept my eye on the chart plotter to make sure I didn’t veer off course and over the shoal… I woke up an hour later feeling great and wondering why. With a start, I realized I was sitting up with the chart plotter in my hands. I frantically checked my position and realized I’d sailed right past the shoal. Fool’s luck, coming to the rescue once again.

2A4C9EB4-DBD7-4F51-8B1F-C13E794006B5 — I’m a big fan of fool’s luck

I arrived in Norfolk the next afternoon. The wind never stopped its insistent blow, and Gecko sped down the channel. Navigating around all the container ships and navy cruisers on a half-working brain probably would have been more stressful if I wasn’t so tired. It’s kind of like a built-in anxiety destroyer, I mused. The more tired you are, the less you care about your limited functionality. I remembered the morning after I spent my first night sailing across the gulf of Maine. There were so many ships that I hadn’t had more than about an hour total of sleep that night. The wind died as the sun rose and I was motoring and falling asleep at the helm. At one point, I remember thinking: “It’s ok to go to sleep. Holly’s steering. She knows what she’s doing.”

88B5E89E-8F27-43CE-9465-60926529F9B1 — What I was wearing when I was mistaken as homeless

I spend that night in Portsmouth over by the Navy hospital. My legs were itching for exercise, so even though I was exhausted, I went ashore for a walk. I decided to go to the Food Lion and get some more provisions. On my way back, I found myself suddenly flanked by two woman wearing head-to-toe fleece, and big smiles. They told me that their church was having a free dinner and that I was welcome to join. I smiled and thanked them, thinking they were looking for new recruits or something. My sleep-deprived brain was too addled to realize what was actually happening. The women looked at me with concerned eyes, and started talking about how all hard times come to an end and that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Then they told me that they would walk me to their church. At this point, the truth started dawning on me and I realized that not only would I not get out of their free dinner, but that they thought I was homeless. It’s incredibly hard to refuse charity once people decide to give it, and the ball was already rolling. My protests only strengthened their resolve. I was ushered into a warm little room and given a fried chicken dinner from more sympathetic eyes and smiles. I tried to appear grateful and homeless so as to satisfy their need to provide aid to the destitute. How do homeless people act? I looked at the ground and smiled shyly at their compliments and kind words. Finally I was set free. I somewhat guiltily made my way back to my boat, the first home I’ve ever owned, and the first time I’ve had a permanent place of residence in over four years. The dinner was a beautiful display of charity, and I was touched by the church warrior’s generosity. I was also convinced that I had been thoroughly been initiated into the live-aboard shabbiness that seems to befall so many of the cruisers I’ve met. I was officially Boat Trash. I was psyched.

October 18, 2018October 18, 2018

Overhaul Part 1: Carpentry, Love Notes, and the Custom Galley

When I first purchased Gecko in May of 2017, she was set up as a weekend sailer. Even though she’s only twenty-seven feet, I was able to comfortably sleep seven people. The galley was perfect for storing booze, snacks, and plastic cups. The storage was minimal, and the cushions were plaid horsehair; in short, I had purchased a floating hunting lodge. Regardless, I had a great summer cruising around Maine and starting my fathoms-long list of changes and improvements.

0EA1C620-FFB2-45D5-8D4F-6100B0E412B5 — Gecko the way she looked when I purchased her as “Seamark”

I hauled out in October of 2017 and started on my first project: rip out and rebuild the galley, convert the pilot berth into lockers, change the drawers into lockers with doors, and redo the head storage area. I figured it was smart to start with something unambitious and easily manageable.

45AED159-7950-4A4E-861A-3A1A905DF789 — The most torn apart Gecko ever was. At this junction there was no plumbing, electrical, and all the main cabin lockers were torn out

I started by replicating the port side lockers into the space that was formerly the pilot berth. Once I had completed this, I took out the sink in the head, redid the counter top, and pulled the locker face forward by about eight inches to create more storage. Although I liked the idea of saving time by washing my hands while I was using the head, I felt like I could handle the twelve-foot trek to the galley sink.

Gecko’s original galley when I purchased her

I ripped out the entire galley and purchased a two-burner gimballed stove with an oven to install in lieu of the Princess two-burner stovetop. I started designing my new galley by putting all my kitchen supplies into the empty space and building cardboard partitions around my kitchen-ware. I find it much easier to build into the three dimensional space, rather than trying to draw it out on a 2D piece of paper.

7CDB4BDA-BE0B-434E-B5A6-F5D24E0AD011 — Early cardboard mock-up for my galley lockers area behind the stove

Once I was satisfied with cardboard palace, I created templates and started cutting out plywood and building my lockers. Therefore, my locker that holds pots and pans is the width of my widest pan, the plates fit perfectly into the plate area, and I can never buy any new kitchenware ever again or I’ll have to rip out all the wood and rebuild.

E7689B69-3636-4639-914D-7440285A2D86 — The dry-fit galley lockers. And new stove!

I also put in a new sink, a fresh and a salt water pump, and installed a new counter-top.

8871C50D-9599-4819-BEEC-B9C65A3C4550 — My completed galley

After I’d created all the shelves and bulkheads around the boat, I cut out locker faces and doors. Instead of using finger catches to hold the doors closed, I carved little tabs out of teak for each door. This is a locking system my dad came up with on his first boat, and it is an elegant and inexpensive solution for motivated fools with a chisel and spare day or two.

A98C578D-45B4-4DF3-B612-8E3C54853D08 — Same view, different boat! (This was pre-launch, so minus the mast)

I replaced all the port lights with lexan that I cut and routered into shape. I’m not sure what brand of ’till-death-we-part adhesive was used to seal in the original port lights (probably 5200), but it took about half an hour with a hammer and chisel to get each one out. They came out in splintered pieces.

F206D44F-6300-42FC-BB94-60C55911E4D8 — Replacing the port lights was a tedious job. Here I was celebrating my last day with giant holes all over my cabintop

Rebuilding the interior was the first project I started, and it was ongoing throughout my other renovations. After several months in, I went back over the very first locker I built, and was able to see how far my skills had come (not as impressive as it sounds since I was starting somewhere after macaroni necklace but before mud fort). Underneath the counter-tops, I wrote messages to myself like little hidden talismans in the heart of my boat.

September 27, 2018September 27, 2018

It’s spring! (In southern Chile)

For the past week, I’ve been back at work on one of the two research boats I’m employed on for about a third of the year. The Laurence M Gould is a 70m research icebreaker in the employ of the United States Antarctic Program. I work between this and our other Antarctica research vessel, flying down for a month or two at a time.

81F5A885-089E-485D-9217-A6449FC965EF — The Gould in one of the Antarctic fjords. I took this photo on my first trip down to the continent but am constantly awed by the endless beauty around me every time I come down to the ice

I work on board as a marine technician; every trip we do is different since we work with whichever scientists get grants to come study on our boats. I help them to interface their gear and the gear we provide with the icebreaker. Depending on the trip, my duties can include driving zodiacs, driving cranes, deploying large oceanographic instruments, deep sea fishing, etc. We have biologists who study penguins, whales, leopard seals, and other large marine life. We also have oceanographers, glaciologists, geologists, climate scientists, and ice scientists. We work with hundreds of different universities and scientific groups including NOAA and Woods Hole.

86A6DB56-42DA-47AC-84D5-ED0E106A525D — Hanging a block on the A-frame- one of my varied jobs on the boats

This time, I flew down early to help work on one of our RHIBs (reinforced hull inflatable boat). It’s a 30′ aluminium boat that we use for research at one of the stations. This speedy nugget can go over 20 knots, and was custom built to provide research support for the scientists down at the station.

13808AE2-F875-42F2-89FE-D52BAF0453C2 — One of the RHIBS in action down in Antarctica

The extra week working on the RHIB means that I’m spending more time in Chile than usual. Normally we have a few days of port call and then head straight down to the ice. I’ve been enjoying the equinox and the first few days of spring. Temperatures still hang out around freezing this time of year, but longer days indicate an entrance into summer. Eventually the sun never goes away and we experience all the beautiful shades of the midnight sun.

740EA3A3-8D5F-4DF8-B66B-B0FF691B7074 — 0645 Sunrise in Punta Arenas. At this time of year, each day is getting longer by four minutes. That’s about half an hour more daylight per week!

On the second of October we’ll head south into the Drake Passage, a crossing which takes about four days. Around the 6th we’ll see our first sights of Antarctica. No matter how many years people have been in the program, everyone still lines up along the bridge and on the bow to stare at the mountains, glaciers, and icebergs. We always say that if you’re no longer awed by the scenery then it’s time to quit and find pleasure in the perfect geometry of an office cubicle.

It has been four months since I’ve last been down here and I’m already getting excited for the landscape, some of the coolest people I know, and of course- penguins

3143C93D-A275-4FAC-A551-628EA1004994 — Gentoo penguins waddle around, completely unafraid of us weird humans in our bright orange drysuits

September 18, 2018September 18, 2018

New (temporary) Shipmate!

This week, I installed a furry new little co-pilot.

624D9697-7E06-43AF-8F56-0CB5E2F46554 — Shackleton on his princely cockpit throne

Shack took to boat life right away, and claimed the quarterberth as his new domain. I’m only looking after him for a few days, but I considered it a trial run for potentially having my own little nugget.

58A42B03-B76A-4F4D-A3C6-7D408E04509D — The cutest boy Gecko has hosted (Sorry humans)

I have been toying with the idea of getting a boat pet for awhile, but having Shackleton has made me realise that it’s not something I’m ready for yet. Not only does it add an extra layer to clearing-in to new countries, but it’s a responsibility that I don’t want to have to think about at this point in time.

EE4D48A0-27B5-4ADD-82A9-7BFDF3D2A3A0 — Shack singlehandedly taught me how to use my new Monitor windvane

We had a great holiday together, and he was the best little plus one on my last days aboard before I head down to work. I’ll be gone until the end of October, so stand by for pictures of Chile, icebreakers, and Antarctica!

September 4, 2018September 5, 2018

Gecko Gets Wet!

Hi Friends!

After eight months of overhauling, my boat is ready to cruise the world!

Last May I bought a 27′ Grinde double-ender sloop. I sailed her all summer to get a feel for the changes I wanted to make, and hauled in October. Over the course of the winter I rewired, added new water tanks and re-plumbed everything, stripped out the entire galley and rebuilt it, painted, replaced all the portlights, added a set of spreaders and replaced all standing and running rigging, cut new foam and sewed new cushion covers, and countless other smaller tasks.

My plan is to circumnavigate; Gecko is in Maine right now and I’ll leave to sail south around the end of October. I work as a marine technician on icebreakers in the Antarctic and am usually deployed for at least four or five months out of the year. Between deployments, I’ve been working on my boat to get her bluewater ready.

I go back to work for 6 weeks starting September 18th. When I get back at the end of October, I plan on solo sailing from Maine to North Carolina in one long passage. Until then, I’m exploring around the coast of Maine and tuning up my new rig.