Tuesday, April 8, 2014

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.






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