From the Captain: Getting Luna ready to go.


There is nothing half so much worth doing as simply messing around in boats   Kenneth Grahame

The author of Wind in the Willows would have found ample opportunities to mess around in Luna. Preparations for our journey began even before the winter cover came off last April, which was two months before we sailed her for the first time. There was some clean up from the previous owner, some hoses to replace, some fiberglass retabbing around the head. We replaced one of the cabin port lights. I installed a third battery (two for the electric needs of the boat, one dedicated to start the engine), a battery charger to use while plugged in at the dock, and a 90 watt solar panel to keep the batteries up while we're anchored or sailing. We sanded and repainted the transom, removing the old name and rechristening her “Luna” with appropriate rations of champagne poured into glasses for us and into the sea for Neptune. We said a prayer to the latter as we set off on our maiden voyage from her winter home at the Shelburne Shipyard to her mooring at Long Point.

As the summer progressed, we made a punch list of things to do. We installed a Garmin GPS chart plotter and sonar unit at the helm. I found a place under the galley sink to install an Isotherm refrigeration compressor and converted the ice box to an electric refrigerator.  I installed sensors on the water tank and the holding tank to monitor the level of fluids in them so we know when we need to fill one and empty the other. I learned how to change the oil in the diesel engine, and replaced the impellers and gaskets in the water pumps. We sent the autopilot off to be repaired and mounted a propane grill on the stern.

Each aspect of electrical and mechanical work on a small sailboat involves pretzeling oneself into quite untenable positions. The hardest has been crawling down into the port side cockpit locker, bending in over the engine and drilling up through the deck under the binnacle to run the wires for the new instruments at the helm. There is a zen to sailing, but sailboat maintenance is pure yoga with an occasional salty expletive.

We sent the sails we will use to the sail maker for a going-over, and he will replace the life lines around the deck as well. He will also convert the large chute to a smaller asymmetric spinnaker that will be easier for the two of us to handle. With a sewing machine from a local yard sale, I repaired the bimini and made covers for the grill, the Garmin, and the outboard dinghy motor. The last project, currently underway, is to create a second fresh water tank under one of the seats in the dinette, expanding Luna’s capacity to 50 gallons. It seems that the list of things to do never really gets shorter. We cross tasks off the bottom only to add more at the top. It’s all good, and we have had ample time to sail, including a 5-day cruise up to the northern part of Lake Champlain.

Between the guidebooks, nautical charts, and boat parts, we have kept the UPS driver busy. Defender Marine, Amazon, Defender, Defender, Amazon. He remains cheerful, and I’m sure he has been trained not to roll his eyes.

As departure approaches (two weeks now), Luna will come out of the water to have her bottom repainted. The paint on her now (VC-17) works in fresh water, but does not inhibit marine growth in salt water. She will have her mast removed and stowed on deck in preparation for the trip down through the Champlain canal between Whitehall and Troy, New York.

Once she is out of the water and up “on the hard,” our attention will turn toward provisioning.  Stay tuned.

From the captain: Retirement Planning

It started with retirement, which for me began officially last week, August 15, 2013. After 38 years as a family physician, I got done, as they say in Vermont.

What to do next? What else? Let’s sail down the intracoastal waterway to Florida in the fall and skip over to the Bahamas for the winter.  Let’s totally change our reality and get out of Vermont for the cold weather. The idea started a couple years ago. The great Amercan journey: Huck Finn floating down the Mississippi. Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty on the road.

After 40 years of parenting four great kids and  high responsibility careers, an eight-month cruise on our sailboat seemed like a fitting transition to whatever comes next. There is something about sailing we’ve discovered on our trips around Lake Champlain. No matter how big and complex our world has become, once we step on Luna, it collapses into a space of 35 feet. We’re aware of how the boat feels, how she sounds. We notice the weather and the clouds. We feel the wind on our ears. We become attuned to our surroundings. All we have, hopefully all we need, is contained in that 35-foot world. We develop a self-sufficiency and the ability to deal with problems as they arise. They are generally small problems compared to those we have faced over the years. As our world becomes so much smaller, our consciousness and our horizons expand.

At the same time, the world slows down. Deadlines become merely suggestions.  It is said, “When you’re in a motorboat, you start the motor and get to where you want to go. When you’re in a sailboat, you’re already there.” Luna has a motor, but she goes slow, even at top speed. We will get to experience the east coast, the different cultures, the different foods, and the sights at 6 knots per hour. 50 miles on a good day; less if we find an intriguing place to drop the hook and spend a day or two.

In the meantime, we’ve moved beyond thinking about the trip to actively planning for it. We’re talking with other sailors who have made the journey, collecting guide books and maps and working on Luna--which will be the subject of the next installment of the blog.  We set sail in a little more than 3 weeks. Stay tuned.