Mountain to River

Our friend was patient about the number of trips we needed to get acquainted with Tico Time.  

When he called us on a Saturday to say he was leaving on Wednesday for Costa Rica, we did our best not to panic.  We were at the tail end of monstrous weather that had lasted from February and into March.  We'd done our best to mitigate damage and make things livable on our Rvrlivin home on the Columbia as well as ShirleyCottage on Mt. Hood where we spend much of our time as well.  When he called we were on Mt. Hood.  

We asked if we could come aboard one more time while he was still here.  We had been out briefly with our friend and felt confident in the motor.  I wanted to open the sails and make sure the rigging worked and find out about more than motoring.  We weren't ready to bring her home that day - still lots of outfitting needed on our dock.

Exploring Tico Time on a grey NorthWest day in the Multnomah Channel.  She'll be moving upriver to the mouth of the Gorge where the Columbia River exerts the forces of nature more robustly.

We drove from the Mountain to the Multnomah Channel and boarded Tico Time getting acquainted with electronics, the engine, the head and just sitting in the cabin.  We learned that our friend had not been sailing for a while, but just motoring out.  

He suggested we clean out the folds in the covered mainsail.  It was stiff and took every bit of my strength to hoist the heavy sail the length of the mast.  Out dropped birds nests and wasps nests.  We had arrived with rubber gloves.  We used our friends hose to rinse away the sticks, mud, feathers and dead insects that rained down from the sail.  Still the weather was just right for the task.  A bad day for sailing, but a good windless day to clean while docked.

Ick!  Birdsnests, mud, dead insects rain down as I raise the mainsail after a winter of non-use.  Rubber gloves are fine for cleaning, but sailing gloves they're not!

The furler for the jib seems stuck at the top of the mast; the windvane has not survived the assault by birds so there's quite a bit of work needed at the top of the mast.

Next I wanted to check out the jib.  I've had a little jib on Mis Sueños that simply is bunched and bungeed whereas Tico Time has a furling sail.  Sounded luxurious to me.  It unfurled a few inches.  We worked it back and forth, but no luck.

The sails on the boat all need work to get them to glide and raise without strain.  Lots to learn.  Boat ownership!  So glad we had started out small!  Kayaks and canoes don't take much maintenance.  Mis Sueños was a little more work.  Each time she was sailed, prep time included complete rigging, as I chose to remove the sails each time.  Now another step with a larger boat, but it was nice that have a little time on the water in baby steps. As a member of the Oregon Women's Sailing Association (OWSA), I've actively taken great classes and helped out as a volunteer along with enjoying the Wednesday Night Sails (WNS).

Just the same, though I've been sailing often the last few years, I was feeling like everything was brand new.  Michael and I buried ourselves in resources and support.  We found websites such as A Beginners Guide to Sailing http://howtosail.wordpress.com/ to review and refresh ourselves on the very simplest of terms.  I am the one with more sailing experience and Michael is willing to be first mate. He will bring a wealth of knowledge on the technical side, such as his ham radio experience and high aptitude for all things mechanical.  I will be his willing student as we share our strengths.

Among our resources is a little red book that looks like the "See Dick and Jane..." book.  It's watercolour illustrations, simple text, and informative bite-size chapters make it a delight to peruse.  I decided it would make some perfect bedtime reading.  It doesn't need to be read in order, so I simply opened the book midway through.  To my horror was a picture of a boat with water pouring into the stern and the bow raising above the waterline.  I showed it to Michael.  We took turns waking each other up all night. We both had nightmares invoked by our first grade level sailor book. 

Icey Intermission

"Did you make sure we have water running at the house?" 
"No, I thought you did..."
"I think we're going to pay for...our...negligence..."

In came the storm, brought by the divine hand of all things that will transform and affect our lives and destiny.

When we arrived home, the dock leading to our home was slippery.  Not yet covered with ice, it soon would be decorated. We made it into the house.  Ahhh, nice and warm.  Water?  Nary a drop.

The house shuddered. The wind driving out of the East brought snow, ice and ever-cooling temperatures.  The Columbia River Gorge is famous for snarling storms and it was fully upon us.  

New sailboat?  Not right now - we needed to consider our current needs.   We weren't sure if the boards sitting loosely on the North side of our house would fly off, or hold on.


Right now, we needed to check emergency supplies.  We had stored water and food. The plentiful water in the River, water that was chilled to about 40 degrees, could flush the toilet.

 As the ice accumulated, we could feel the house stress and sinking into the River.  As beautiful as it looked, we needed to manage it and lighten the burden on the house.We estimated about 1500 lbs of ice were pressing the house into the water.  

The storm held for several weeks, we did without water for six days.  We were able to keep the toilet flushing for about 4.  We could come and go.  We felt compelled to spend the nights at the house to manage the ice by removing it and giving it back to the river. 

Things began to thaw.  We took a breath.

On Saturday our friend called and said, "Hey, I'm leaving for Costa Rica on Wednesday.  When do you plan to move the boat?"

 

Logistics for graduating from 16 feet to 30 feet

Michael is the research and tech guy, I am the jump in and do it person.  I hope I live to the next day, though I don't think about it much, I just do.  So our next step found us reversing roles.  I am also the one with the sailing experience.  With just enough experience to have scared us both a few times, I realize the mighty Columbia River is called such because the River is mighty strong, with current and volume of water worthy of full respect. 

As we negotiated our once in a lifetime opportunity to make Tico Time our own, we realized something's got to give.  Sprawling on the River just doesn't happen - at least not in our moorage.  We have a finite amount of space to work with.  The footprint we have is the footprint we need to work with.  We are not be able to put our new behemoth ship with the bow into the current, as most people who store boats on the River wisely do.  Tico will be perpendicular to the current, which can be very forceful.  I am not sure how difficult it will be to dock with the power of the current pushing 30 feet and over ten thousand pounds away from the dock while trying to tie up.

Oh - and that fleet we've accumulated over the last few years.  Let's just take a little inventory:
* Two sixteen-foot sea kayaks
* Two nine foot sit-on-top kayaks
* One 80-year-old seventeen-foot stripper canoe
* One 16-foot inboard/outboard motorboat, which we store up on Mt. Hood next to our little cottage because we don't have room for it here at Rvrlivin, aka, fleet central.  Ah heck, guess that will have to go, Tico Time has a motor as well as a motorized inflatable Zodiac dinghy.
* One beloved little Newport 16, a nimble little sailboat we'd adopted from our neighbor.  I am not really through enjoying her, but it is time to find her a home.  This time my heart aches.

Did I miss anything?  Probably.

We decided to initially keep all the non-motored watercraft.  It's quick and easy to jump in the kayak.  I have friends who like to join me in the kayaks for a run across the water to a nearby island or paddle around the moorages.  For now, the kayaks stay.  We will need to attach efficient j-hooks for a better storage system.

The stripper canoe is a stunner.  It's gleaming wood, age, and unique nature make it fun as well as a showpiece.  We are not ready to part with it.  Still, we haven’t yet come up with an efficient storage system for it yet.

So that's settled. Mis Sueños and the motorboat are up for sale. We don't plan to advertise. It will be word of mouth.  Living on the River means a lot of local, very local, trading and bartering.  We need money this time.  Part of our agreement for Tico Time is to put a down payment together as soon as possible, though it's been very flexible. I think we need to sell the motorcycles too.  That will boost our down payment and I'd say we are simplifying our life.

We've decided what needs to go, but we now need to make sure the docks are ready to accommodate the new resident 30 footer.  

Our docks surrounding our house exist in varying states repair, or disrepair.  With almost any home, some of the least cosmetic qualities of a house are among the most important.  Just as a good foundation is likely to be a more important part of a land home, the logs and stringers keep a floating home on top of the water. 

 Our first task after buying Rvrlivin, as we call our home on the water, was to re-do the logs and stringers.  We hired river contractors to get us through this one. This was a costly task requiring the floor throughout the house be removed.  Once the the old bones are exposed, most homeowners begin to expect the unexpected.  For us, the now removed floor helped us realize we needed to add insulation below the house.  

We also needed substantial plumbing repairs.  We replaced the honey pot, which is how we move the sewage from our house to the public system. We're not quite off the grid, just off land, though I'd like to be.  

During this repair we added an extension to our dock on the North side of our home.  The extension consisted of only the logs and stringers.   A series of events, including a number of family deaths, created huge changes in our live. These changes hit us emotionally as well financially.  We had to stop where we were.  The logs and stringers have no covered dock to walk on.  Instead, this extension has been a precarious appendage to our home with logs simply sticking out from the house exposing water below.

As 2014 began, we had no idea another boat was in our future.  We were finally able to begin the process of finishing the dock so we could actually walk on it.  Loose wood had been laid out on top of the logs and stringers.  Nothing was nailed down.

With the pending arrival of Tico Time, we need to make electrical changes that will accommodate her needs while docked.  This includes: 
* Electricity 
We will run electricity to her to keep her warm and dry in the winter, and to keep the battery charged so the bilge pump works when needed, and allows us to use the lights in the cabin.  
* More substantial cleats
We need to fit the dock with heavy-duty hardware to hold the much larger lines needed to dock this much larger sailboat and hold her secure - even with the river current pushing her broadside.
* Plumbing 
We will need to pump sewage from the head, as a maine toilet called, in the cabin of the boat to the honey pot to carry away waste after excursions on the water that are too far away from any bathrooms.

Tico Time is a giant leap from sweet little Mis Sueños, which has a little cabin to sleep in.  In the 16 foot sloop, the potty is nothing more than a bucket to pull out of the boat, carry through the house or to a floating Porta Potty on the river and dump human waste.   A new boat with a kitchen and bathroom means a lot of unplanned changes to the dock to accommodate the dramatic increase in amenities.  We are now doing far more than laying down wood to create a surface to walk on; we are expanding the function of the dock.  

In ways the timing was divine.

As we put our plan together, the temperature plummeted, fluffy white clouds dispersed across bluebird skies scooted together forming a dark, angry storm front. It was early February 2014, and something else divine was headed our way.

Clueless

It started out innocently enough.  Little did we know we would soon be like deer in headlights navigating ourselves from a 16-foot sailboat to a 30-foot cruiser.  While browsing Facebook, we noticed a post by a friend announcing he was moving to Costa Rica and wanted a 'good home' for his sailboat.  

Michael quipped, "It would look good at our dock".  And that’s exactly what he posted to our friend.

Huh?  The posting disappeared.  "Ummm...What does that mean?" We looked at each other.  "Guess we need to take quick trip downriver to visit our friend and wish him well on his great adventure," we said.  

As we walked along the dock to our friend's home, he greeted us in his usual, warm, gregarious style.   "I'm getting married!"  We were overjoyed for him.

“I’m so glad you’re getting Tico Time,” he gushed.  “You live on the water, you sail, and there’s just no one else I wanted to see her go home with!”

Our suspicions were correct.  He thought we wanted his boat.

I’m a member of the Oregon Women’s Sailing Association (OWSA) and enjoy the wonder of venturing out on the Columbia River with other women sailors. I am all too happy to share my adventures on Facebook.  There’s no disguising the joy I feel when the sails fill. I enjoy time with others while learning to tack and jibe on the River.  I can't hide the delight found in the sound of the water rushing by, the rolling of the boat as it heels, the teamwork, the majestic beauty of the river and the mountains, the camaraderie on the water. 

Sailboats are soulful.  Skippers care about the afterlife of their craft.  Sailors not only pitch in plenty of pesos, but invest part of their own soul when cruising and learning the unique personalities of each windblown vessel.  Our friend chose us to be the next keepers.

“We’re not in the market for a sailboat,” we argued.

“She’s yours,” he urged, “just tell me what I need to do make it work for you.”

He named his price.  We resisted while dreaming of the possibilities.  We were so transparent.   

Since I was 13, my vision was to one day own a little Alcoa Sunfish, which was not much more than a sailboard.  When a neighbor in our moorage began to look for a new home for his Newport 16, we went to just look.  Mis Sueños, as I named her, translated from Spanish to English as My Dreams.  She came to live with us.  I was thrilled a boat beyond my imagination found a new home in front of our house.

It was then I realized the essence of the owner lingers on.  Our neighbor owned her for over forty years.  He reminisced about their adventures together.  I could see the ache in his heart as he parted with her.  He was also happy she would now moor with us.

Yes, sailors care about the hereafter of their boats.

Mis Sueños, our first sailboat

Sunset on the Columbia River

Mis Sueños, with her Christmas lights

At home on Rvrlivin

Neat knots are important - hold that baby to the dock!