Beasely has been an absolute gem as a boat dog so far. He is both the best and the worst of choices for a boat. Worst, because he is heavy, with short legs, and can't stay afloat for more than a minute or two. He has his own PFD, but we haven't actually tried it out yet to see if it will support his head above water. When we get to a cay with nice, warm water on a shallow  beach, we'll test it. In the meantime, we keep him on a short leash on board the boat, in case he sees a bird or dolphin and decides to join them for play.

He excels as a boat dog because he is calm, quiet, not bothered by being confined to relatively small quarters, and basically just happy to be anywhere with us. He doesn't require a lot of exercise, in fact he disdains it :-) We were very concerned about the elimination issue, but our catamaran has a trampoline up front, and we added a piece of "astroturf" that we had him "christen" before we put it on the boat. (Photo shows it just past him and Shirley.) Like the good boy that he is, he used it the morning of the second day he was on the boat, and has ever since. Even when we are underway, and the boat is rockin' and rollin', he will use it as needed. Beasely is now a member of the "I Peed In The Gulf Stream" club. (Here's a photo of him enjoying the breeze as we crossed the Stream.)

Beasely has been ashore twice while we were at the marina in Marathon, by dinghy.  It's a bit tricky, because the sterns have steps but they are too steep and deep for him to use, so we basically have to carry him down the steps and into the dinghy. He is fine once he gets inside the dinghy, although he doesn't wear his PFD often enough to get comfortable with it. We took him to Coral Gables when we took Shirley to the Miami Breast Institute for a stereotactic biopsy (negative,thank goodness) and when we went to Key West to sign up with Customs/Border Patrol for the "local boater option" I mentioned in an earlier post.

So, back to the travel news. We left Daytona Beach on the 3rd of January 2009. We would have left on the 31st of December, but had repairs that had not been completed, so had to extend. We moved south on the Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW), anchoring out the first night, then spending a night on a mooring in Vero Beach, then anchoring for another night further south. Then we "went outside", leaving the ICW at Lake Worth Inlet, entering the Atlantic Ocean. We motor sailed through the night (nice full moon), ending up re-entering the ICW at Government Cut in Miami (see photos). From there we motor-sailed south down Biscayne Bay to Angelfish Cut, were we moved into Hawk Channel, between the Keys and the reefs that separate the channel from the Atlantic Ocean. 

We sent a night anchored at Rodriguez Key, and fueled the next morning at a dock in Key Largo that is accessed  by a canal that was extremely narrow. The canal makes a more than ninety degree turn at a place called, appropriately, "Crash Corner" or "Suicide Corner". Thank goodness the catamaran has an engine in the rear of each hull, as that wide spacing provides for excellent manueverability. By putting one engine in forward gear and the other in reverse, I was able to spin the boat 180 degrees in its own length. We made it back out without mishap, and got all the way down to Boot Key (Marathon) that night. As it was dark when we arrived, we elected to anchor outside for the night. The Boot Key Harbor bridge doesn't open at night anyway, so we would have had to motor up Sister's Creek to enter, and that is shallow and narrow, not something I would want to try in the dark if I didn't have to for some reason. 

As I obviously run off at the keyboard every time I post, I'll wait until the next post to give the low-down on Marathon, the City Marina, and some of the great people (and snobs) we met there.  

Cruising: fixing your boat in exotic places

It occurred to me, upon reflection, that my title and content might be a bit over the top for some family members, although most folks who are willing to call me "friend" know how irreverent and sometimes crude I can be. Being that the first post is indeed accurate in its depiction of the chain of events that led us to our boat and its name,  I can only say, "Mea culpa".

Having found and named our boat last November, we stayed on her at the Daytona Marina and Boatyard for the balance of the month, then moved to Loggerhead Club and Marina, still in Daytona Beach. We met a lovely couple, Lee and Laura Walker, who owned another Lagoon 37. They helped us immensely with advice and assistance, including helping us move Hot Chatte to Loggerhead.  They are attempting to sell their home in order to take up cruising full-time, and are planning on a trip to the Abacos (in the Bahamas) in April, so we hope to meet them there again, as well as when we return to Daytona (briefly) in May.

I should mention at this point that there is a loose association of Lagoon 37 owners on a web list, and a number of them have been extremely helpful to us. None more so than the gentleman who has been my role model as a cruiser for a number of years now, named Denny Deranek. A picture of Denny and his wife Diane on their Lagoon 37 graced the desktop of my computer as wallpaper for several years before we were able to buy our own boat. He as given unstintingly of his help and advice over the phone and by email, and we hope to be able to meet him in person this April or May in the Abacos, or later at his home marina in Johns Island, SC.

The month of December at Loggerhead was a time of much frustration, as we discovered that the surveyor had missed a number of very important issues, requiring more repairs and upgrades than we had been advised of or had planned for in our budget of time and money. Repairs were completed, only to require being done again, as wiring had corroded and the repairs to the devices connected to it would not hold. Engine mounts were loose, shafts out of alignment, valves out of adjustment, shaft seals loose and leaking. Bilge pumps would not run, the bimini required rebuilding, etc, etc., ad nauseum. I did as much of the repairs (bilge pumps, "head" [toilet] valves, wiring, lighting, replacing old running rigging, etc.) as I could, but some repairs were beyond my current ability.

The engine work was done by an individual who is a truly nice human being, but who proved the definition of "BOAT": Break Out Another Thousand. His estimate was $700-800, but the work ended up costing $1800. And some of it had to be redone when we got further south.

While this was going on, we commissioned a lady who does exquisite canvas work to build an enclosure for the cockpit, as we knew we would be using the boat in cold climates during part of the year. That is when we discovered the sorry state of the bimini frame, as well as the dodger that came with the boat. We ended up spending a lot more than we had planned, but her work was so good we were glad to have done it. Martha Ogburn  of Kustom Kovers, and her husband Dennis  (I understand he does almost any marine work that can be done on a boat. Wish I had known that before I hired the other guy) did the job, and they are really nice folks. 

Well, this brings us to another serious issue we had to deal with: the State of Florida, in its infinite wisdom and greed, has legislated that the purchase of a boat inside the state requires either the payment of sales tax (7.5% in our case, or $10400.00) or the removal of the boat from Florida waters within ten days. You can purchase a ninety day waiver for $25, but then you really have to get out. Penalties for not getting out can be as much as three times the sales tax that would have been owed as well as the possibility of jail time. Since we come from a state without a sales tax and do not wish to reside in Florida, we saw no reason to pay this tax. However, this meant vacating Florida by the 15th of February.

It gets darned cold north of Florida this time of year. We had planned on spending the winter in the Keys, staying reasonably warm, but since we could not do that, we opted for the Bahamas instead. So, at the end of December, we moved the boat to Marathon, Florida, the middle key of the chain. As we did not feel we had enough knowledge or experience to do that on our own, we asked some friends about hiring someone to help us move the boat. Another person from the Lagoon list who was very helpful gave us the name of an experienced captain who could help us move the boat and provide some training enroute. I called this captain, and based on what he told me, I thought he would be fine for the job, so I hired him (sight unseen) for $100 a day. Most sailing school instructors charge $400-500 per day, so I felt we were getting a bargain.

This fellow is from Massachusetts, and is a very nice guy. Unfortunately, he was unfamiliar with catamarans, wasn't quite clear on how to use our electronics, and didn't spend much time trying to train us on the way down. The real fly in the ointment, however, was that he suffered from verbal diarrhea. And most of what he talked about were personal reminiscences of famous people he worked for, met while sailing, etc. He talked so much, and said so little of value, that I finally had to come right out and ask him to try to curtail his conversation. He did try to comply, and was reasonably quiet for about a day, but the rest of the eleven days together seemed like an eternity. I am not really a social person, so this was my idea of what Hell must be like. Fortunately, his wife (or girlfriend) was able to meet us in Marathon, as we needed to go to Marathon (Boot Key Harbor), and he needed to get to Key West, so we parted a couple of days sooner than if we had had to transport him all the way to Key West ourselves. I cannot even begin to describe our relief at having him off the boat. Not a bad person, just an "oil and water" situation.

Going to the Bahamas  meant even more complications, as neither of us has a passport, we had a dog with us, we needed to purchase a decal for the boat from Customs/Border Patrol, and also chose to sign up for C/BP's "local boater option", which meant a car rental and trip to Key West to process the paperwork. The local boater option allows you (hopefully) to simply call an 800 number to clear with Customs when you return to the U.S., rather than having to show up in person at the nearest port of entry. They can still require your physical presence, but I am told that almost never happens. Let's hope that will be the case for us. As you can still enter the Bahamas and return to the U.S. with a birth certificate and photo I.D. (until June 1st, 2009), we had to defer getting passports until we return, as they take your birth certificate while they are processing your passport, and we needed ours in hand to enter the Bahamas.

The Bahamas was good about getting us the permit for "importing" Beasely, our English bulldog, into their country. The local veterinarians in Marathon were not good about doing his health certificate, at least in a timely fashion, so we opted to travel with his vaccination papers from our vet in Oregon, which showed them to be current, along with a copy of all his other medical records. Customs in the Bahamas never even asked to look at that, just the permit we were mailed.

Next time, I'll talk about how well Beasely has adapted to boat life (you certainly must have heard that ships have poop decks ;-) , and we'll describe the city marina in Marathon, as well as the trip to the Bahamas. Bear with us, folks. My keyboard logorrhea will end soon. Or maybe not.

A Single Step

Hopefully, our journey will consist of more than a thousand miles, but for the purposes of this blog, this is the first step.

In June of 2008, I quit my job as a staff nurse in the Mental Health Services of the Roseburg, Oregon VA Medical Center. Five more months of employment would have seen me retired with a small pension, but work conditions, and the conditions of care for our veterans, had (IMHO) deteriorated to the point where I could no longer stomach the job. My wife Shirley had retired over a year earlier, so we put our property on the market and in June it sold. As we had pounded large chunks of disposable income into the mortgage,  we ended up with enough equity to do something we had both dreamed about - to buy a sailboat to live aboard full-time.

After we left Roseburg, Oregon, we traveled east. We had been searching the Internet for some years to develop an idea of what sort of boat we would like, and had decided a catamaran would be our choice of sailing vessel. Our arrival on the East Coast signaled the start f our search for the boat we would purchase. We looked at boats with the help of a broker (Phil Berman, the owner of Multihull Company) from the Florida Keys to the Chesapeake Bay to Long Island Sound and New England. In November f 2008, we found a TPI Lagoon 37 in Daytona Beach, FL that we liked, and we purchased her.

She was built in 1995 by TPI in Rhode Island, reputedly a better manufacturer of the Lagoon 37 model than the French-built Lagoons. The boat had originally been named "Gwahir", but the fellow who owned her prior to our purchase had renamed her "Reference Point".  Shirley and I wanted a name that would reflect the fact that she was a catamaran, and  we batted some ideas around along with my stepmother Carolyn, during a visit with her.  As my family comes from French-Canadian stock on both sides, and being a lover of puns and other wordplay, I decided that "chat", French for cat, would be fun as part of the name. "Chat" is pronounced "sha", but the feminine "chatte" - French for "she-cat" - is pronounced "shot". Carolyn suggested "Hot Chatte" (pronounced Hot Shot), and that is what we named her. A French-Canadian fellow we met just after we bought her advised us that in French, "chatte" was slang for another word, beginning with "p", used when speaking of cats (and other things.)  So, when we had the graphics put on her stern as part of her documentation, we included a brush-stroke drawing of a cat "presenting" herself. What can I say?