A few people wanted more background on the title of my book Of Foreign Build.
Firstly, I felt very foreign (in every aspect) during the first part of the book – as you will see (hopefully!).
Secondly, we received a lot of checking in and out paperwork in different countries for Mariah, and for us.
My favourite is from Niue, and the words are perfect…..
‘…..one female, foreign built…..’
I love navigating, whether by stars, chart or GPS. Usually, on a voyage we navigate via GPS but back-up this wonderful device with good old chart work. On occasion we do sun-sights too.
Here are many diagrams on good navigation skills. Both recreationally and commercially, Noel and I have used every single one of these methods.
For example:
Parallel indexing in fog
DR when the GPS has lost its signal (or as back-up)
Set and drift when heading to GPS co-ordinates, on an urgent rescue
Always learning
A few years ago I was a skipper on different ships in Papua New Guinea (Noel had his own-different-ship), with thirteen local men as crew. The charts were out of date, there were chart errors* and GPS errors. I HAD to rely on my navigation skills. This wasn’t easy, I was in new ports, fast currents, narrow channels and a boat with its controls labelled in Japanese (plus 300 passengers).
Coupled with all this fun, some of the boats were air-started… use too many forward and astern manoeuvres when docking (on a busy commercial wharf), and you run out of air, run out of….. engine!
My skills
I was told today that I don’t have enough skills to be a trainer – which is my job in Australia. Assumptions were made after reading my blog. So I’m giving myself a shout-out today.
Proud
I am proud of my skills, they have been earned. I’ve not only been a commercial skipper on the high-seas, but busy inland waterways and canals too. As a commercial skipper (up to 80 metres) I have had, not only, to sit tough exams (written and verbal and practical), to gain my tickets, I have to prove my commercial sea-time and prove my skills and experience by signed reports by Captains of a higher level. My qualifications were only granted after the assessments were done and, in some cases, years of sea-time had to documented.
So, yes, this is a shout out for me! …and…
By the by, combining Noel’s experience with mine, both recreational and commercial, into a book isn’t easy (it’s a big book) – but it is amazing value at $4.99! – more pictures here and here. Plus another great resource here.
It’s one of my biggest fears at sea…. streaks of electricity aiming for the highest thing in the ocean – our mast!
Here’s some tips to help prevent damage and other precautions to take:
Your *oven (or microwave) is a good temporary *‘Faraday cage’ for protecting equipment during a lightning storm. (Faraday cages shield their contents from static electric fields.) During a lightning storm ensure you disconnect your equipment, flicking off a circuit breaker is not enough if you are hit. If you have put your equipment in the oven, don’t forget to remove it before next using the oven or microwave!
In a serious electrical storm, the following is recommended:
Stay below decks (bear in mind to keep a good watch if at sea; the regulations state that ‘Every vessel shall at all times maintain a proper lookout by sight and hearing as well as by all available means appropriate in the prevailing circumstances and conditions so as to make a full appraisal of the situation and of the risk of collision’).
Stay away from the mast, boom, shrouds, chainplates, the mast compression post and mast below decks.
Plot your position and turn off all your electronic equipment.
Be aware of the set and drift so you can do a DR (deduced reckoning) if you have to. (See Navigation section.)
Do not operate radios unless in an extreme emergency.
Lightning storms are usually short lived.
Image courtesy of foto76 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
If you suffer a strike:
Check your through-hulls (if they are metal) for any discoloration in the fibreglass or other signs of damage associated with the strike.
Check for electrical damage and check your rigging. Double check your compass, it may have been affected.
Protection: There are lightning protection devices which some people like and others do not. Research your circumstances and see what suits your situation and set up best.
Indirect hit: A lot of damage can be suffered from an indirect hit; a nearby boat or buoy could be hit and the charge can transfer through the water to other vessels.
No GPS or Radio: It will pay to be able to navigate by chart and deduced reckoning; you may have no electronics and no way to radio for help.
Insurance: If you are insured, after a lightning strike call your insurance company at the first opportunity and follow instructions. It will probably mean a haul out and/or inspection.
Excerpt from Cruisers’ AA – now available for around $3.99 (US) on Kindle!
*A Faraday cage is a metallic enclosure that prevents the entry or escape of an electromagnetic field.
*The oven needs to be the type without glass (ie all metal, so a metal door). Please note, this is advice we have taken, and have no actual ‘proof’ it works! – It certainly made us feel better during a lightning storm.
Of Foreign Build is out next month (November) – but you can win a copy now, simply like our FB page: Noel and Jackie’s Journeys and Share this announcement (via FB) and you go in the draw. It’s as easy as that – winner announced Tuesday 21st October!
Fanfare if you please, we’ve made it to the Canal du Midi.
Entering the Canal du Midi
Lake Etang de Thau was welcoming in its expanse. It was nice to see a long watery horizon. We had perfect conditions, the sun bounced off the silken water and reflected the cloudless blue sky.
About to enter the lake, prior to reaching the Midi
Lake Etang de Thau. It is illegal to traverse this lake in winds in above Beaufort scale 3, (7 to 10 knots).
The Midi has presented its own challenges, round locks, shallow depths, narrow stretches and low bridges. It’s had our adrenaline up at times, it’s tested our boat handling skills and we’ve loved every minute.
Squeezing under bridges, there are lower ones to come!
Rouge Corsair’s fine bow, slicing through the water.
Many plane trees are still left, but more are sadly marked for cutting down. But there’s hope that the beauty will be restored with new trees lining parts of the canal.
The beautiful trees are still in abundance… our first mooring in the Midi – just heavenly.
Frontignan – our last stop before crossing the Lake.
The startling array of sunken boats as we entered the Midi was quite astonishing. These few, in the pictures, were in a stretch of half a kilometre, and I didn’t photograph them all… so sad to see…
A useful sunken boat!
I didn’t talk to my husband for two days when his peculiar answers to my naïve nautical questions reached my bewildered ears. Back then, as a mere fledgling to sailing, my raw researching met brutal honesty. Seeking a sailboat and home, to travel the planet, I tried to grasp the financials and what, exactly, was I letting myself in for.
“How much does it cost to buy and then maintain a boat?” Coming from the corporate world I was gearing up to write in-depth project and budget plans, but abruptly shook those thoughts from my organised head when Noel replied.
“It’ll take every penny we have.”
“Oh right, well, what’s so great about sailing?” Expecting to be assailed with vivid pictures of slicing, splendidly through clear, flat water, with handsome palm trees and white sandy beaches supplying a dreamlike backdrop, the image shattered as Noel’s ruthless reply tore through my reverie,
“Getting to port,” he said, “and the local bar”.
Seven years later and over 40,000 miles clocked, I can see the wisdom in his answers.
Getting into port is one of the best bits! Daniel’s Bay, Marquesas.
Enduring the Escapade
Long term cruising is an incredible adventure and hard work. Arriving in a new country or town, our thoughts steer to, how do we check in? Where do we get fuel and potable water? How much is it?
The men talk amps and engines the girls talk laundry and supermarkets. Noel, Mariah and I are on our last leg in the superb south Pacific Ocean. Aside from reflecting on our magnificent voyage so far, a few ludicrous “learning’s” deserve a mention.
Cleaning cupboards reality – it is not your ‘average’ kitchen.
First, let’s be positive. Our escapade divorces and insulates us from the world’s day-to-day problems. We are not ashamed to bury our heads in the sand and enjoy the “ignorance is bliss” scenario, while we can. News never changes; it is sad and depressing today and tomorrow.
Frequently we meet like-minded people, of all nationalities, where age is no friendship barrier. Hooking up with similar sized boats and sharing the ocean brings the comfort of companionship and the joy in sharing the dolphins that play on our bow during those perfect sailing days.
Mostly, for us, it is the freedom of living simply. We have no letterbox where small bits of paper with large numbers intrude into our sanctuary, sucking dry the bank account to allow landlubber luxuries. And yes, there is the odd G & T (Vodka for me please) while watching spectacular sunsets, doing an anchor pirouette, savouring the sedate, shifting views as we would fine wine.
Secrets of the initiated
Over the year’s advice, hints and tips have deluged our salt saturated minds until our armpits are all but overflowing. We thought we’d heard it all, but here are some unmentionables that we learned along the way:
(1) Constipation – the most fluid of us struggle on long trips. On watch, the comfy cockpit seat will become well acquainted with your behind, causing, what we refer to as – the cork effect.
(2) Seasickness – the toughest of us will become seasick. After corkscrewing for 48 hours solid, your tummy will give up all hope of hanging onto to anything. Most of us unwillingly feed the fish at some point. It is like puberty, you just have to get through it. Despite suicidal thoughts during the worst bouts of seasickness, once you have reached your haven and spent a few days in flat water, going back out into lumpy seas suddenly becomes a good idea again. On the plus side it is a great diet!
(3) Toilet tantrums – at some point most marine toilets will block. If you have not been allocated the repair task, leave the boat while it is being fixed. Build up of pressure while trying to pump it clear will create the most spectacular explosion. Becoming AWOL at this time will help avoid a good dose of (5).
(4) Landlubbers – your farewell from home will be tearful, exciting and filled with unfulfilled promises from friends and family, who assure you that they will keep you up to date on home happenings. After two years you will be grateful for an email once every six months from your bestest buddies, all of which think you spend your entire life sitting on the aft deck sipping G & T.
G&T on the aft deck – after this I’d need one.
(5) Arguments – the closest relationship will suffer at times. Falling out with your spouse is inevitable especially when you are woken three and a half minutes before you are due on watch at 3 am. Learn to talk about it and laugh, it can get damn lonely otherwise and create a yearning for (4).
(6) Moon-fright – the moon is crafty bugger. You know it is due to rise, but as you scan the horizon there is a luminous light that assumes the shape of an approaching aircraft carrier. This will be the moon, strategically cloaked with black cloud to form heart-stopping shapes. However, the moon will become your buddy, especially if dealing with number (5).
(7) Cravings – two days out of a long haul sail you will desperately desire all those things you haven’t got. Roast chicken, ice cream…
(8) Spiders – having abhorrence to the skittering critters my husband assured me that life on board meant no spiders. This seems reasonable, after all we are away from land a lot of the time. Reality is that I am sure we have had a hand inter breeding crawly critters from different countries, probably creating a whole new weird and wonderful breed.
(9) Time – boat maintenance is a full time job in addition to washing, cleaning and sourcing supplies. If you are fortunate enough to momentarily catch up, items (1) or (2) – or both if you are unlucky, will fill the gaps. At the end of each day you’ll just have time to read a page or two of that book you’ve always wanted to read, before sparking out.
(10) Fishing – you will fish once per trip. After you have heaved the huge dolphin fish on board and it has thrashed itself to death, splattering blood over the clean, white cockpit and your battle weary body, the fishing gear will gather salt in the Lazorette for the rest of the journey. By the next trip, you will have forgotten the sticky mess and break out the lines.
(11) Sinking – on your watch, typically in the graveyard hours, you’ll check the bilge for the last time before the welcome warmth of bed and the bilge will be full of water. Instantaneously you are wide-awake and have no problem in screeching at your partner who is obviously having their best ever sleep. Turning the mains off is not an option and two hours later you will find the solution to the problem is something as simple as greasing the stern gland. Finally, you’ll crawl into bed and the stampeding adrenaline will keep you awake until twenty minutes before you are due back on watch.
(12) Plip-plop – you will loose something overboard, deal with it, it is gone.
(13) Fitness – you will not become fit sailing. Although you do become trim, see (2).
(14) Turning back – face facts that the storm you can no longer punch into has beaten you. It is not failure to turn back, it is common sense and above all the boat’s and your safety – also helps relieve item (2).
Fixing a sheared pin in an exotic place (Tahiti).
(15) On a long passage – when the fresh food has all gone (and if you are like us, without fridge) after a week tinned food will taste all the same. It will have that unmistakable metallic flavour (tinny flavouring assists number (2)).
(16) Dust – dust will collect with intensity, especially in those tiny, boat shape, awkward places. Adds to (9).
(17) Company – your partner is only ten feet away sleeping below, at that time you are single-handing. It can be lonely, maybe a good thing if dealing with (1), (2) or (5)!
(18) Plunging – on moonless nights you plunge into thick darkness, with peripheral vision coming to a shocking end at the bow. It’s best not to dwell on this too much.
(19) Meteorites – the dark nights are abundant with “shooting stars”, but watch for the big ones. Out of nowhere, a spot light will beam down on you while you sit quietly in the cockpit minding your own business. A huge, bright meteorite will give you occasion to create a few more grey hairs.
(20) Advice – some will be good and some, well, let’s just say, some will be totally fictitious. You will meet some gold medal winning “know it alls”, for example this article, is it fact or fiction? – best way is to get out there and find out for yourself.
Coming into glorious destinations, like the Bahamas, you can never sit back and relax.
For lots more great tips, tricks, ideas and advice on living on board, see our book Cruisers’ AA.
Thirteen years ago we were robbed here. Here’s where we tied up, near the town of Roquemaure.
New buildings just over the bank.
We were on our ocean going sailboat, all 10 metres of her and having a grand old time taking time away from rolling oceans to carve a path through the middle of France.
With our mast prone.
With our mast lying prone, our make-shift tarpaulin and determination, we made our way up to the UK, where Noel fulfilled a dream he’d been harbouring for many years.
With our mast where it should be!
To find out what happened when we were robbed and what Noel’s achievement was, it’ll cost you the price of a cup of coffee.*
Of Foreign Build, my book detailing these and nine years of sailing escapades, will be out this coming November, details here. (Follow my blog to be the first to learn about up-and-coming freebies!)
Here’s some pictures to whet your appetite….
The Big Chute in Canada (yes, that’s our boat up there – and us!)
More canals – this time Chicago
We were thrilled to sail into New York
On ‘reef’ watch
More canals – where? you’ll have to buy the book – note how we are dwarfed by four enormous barges – 2 tied up on each side and two coming down the middle together… we just slipped into this space in time!
*ebook version.
We’re having a grand ride south, assisted by the current, a twenty knot breeze and a rather splendid DAF motor. We are now near Avignon and enjoying swinging at anchor again.
Here’s a summary of our eight-day trip so far:
The ugly
A pretty child painted on the side of a nuclear reactor chimney – the child’s legs glowing with what can be assumed as contamination: The de-nuded hill-side to fulfil the desire for pretty stone houses.
Nuclear power station and denuded hillside
The good
Fine views, striking ruins, tranquility, safety, enjoyment, togetherness, travel and movement watching France pootle-past; while autumn gathers momentum.
A pretty place
The interesting
The vast stone towers remind us of wombats. What do furry Australian creatures have to do with French ruins? Well, wombats have this odd behaviour where they pooh on stones – not grass, or pavement; on stones and only stones. The French have this odd behaviour of finding the tallest, skinniest, highest peak and building a stone fortress upon it.
The Australian wombat. (Picture not taken in France!). Image courtesy of Michelle Meiklejohn at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
The amusing
While coming out of a rather large lock (drop of 17 metres or 19 metres, depending which book you read) we were met by three ships all vying for the right position to make an entrance or to tie up. The vast volume of water that had just been disgorged from the massive lock left swirls and eddies to test the most skilled skipper. I was at the helm, Noel looked at the wall of ships, spinning with the currents and said, ‘Yikes, just tell me when we’re through safely, I have my eyes closed.’
‘That’s okay,’ I said, ‘so do I!’
Door opening but eyes shut!
The bad
… well, there isn’t any really.
Yesterday as we puttered alongside the paprika sprinkled hills showing their Autumn change, we decided it was time to start anchoring each evening.
Paprika coloured leaves showing the on-set on Autumn.
While sailing we spent ninety-five percent of our time anchoring at each port. While traversing the Great Loop in America we had vast, stunning bays all to ourselves, as everyone went into marinas. Thirteen years ago, in France on our sailboat, we anchored most of the time.
I love the rituals that go with anchoring, where we both concentre on the sounder, our position and the best place; the finite control to stop the boat just where we want her, before applying astern propulsion so the chain is laid out nicely in a line.
Noel ‘coaxing’ the windlass back into action.
The boat easing to a gentle stop with the anchor dug in and the chain straight then slack, restful. The anchor light set up for when nature’s light slinks off behind the horizon, and raising the black ball. The noting of position using bearings to know whether we’ve dragged.
A novel idea for an anchor light pole.
On anchor it is softer, there are no lines to pull in one direction then another as the boat shifts. Rouge Corsair is held steady by the catenary in the chain, acting as a soft spring. She moves with the water, everything is so much gentler, while we watch the slowly shifting view.
Not a bad view from our ‘island’
The new solar panels earn their keep and make it all worthwhile, as now we have our own private island with no neighbours – bliss!
We are where the circle is, off the main channel. The green line is our route line.
We are wondering if we are going the right way. The autumn leaves are more established the further south we go. We are also wondering if there are snow-capped mountains around the corner!
We’ve done the right thing – waited for the geese to indicate south and we are following them.
Today’s our fifth day on the move and we puttered past Lyon as time is pressing and we’ve already been there twice before. We’ve moored at Syripel or, as it is called on our other charts, Les Roches de Condrieu (40 km south of Lyon).
Main lesson learned today: check the DBA site out for updates…. our book-charts (which are embarrassingly old) have a nice spot drawn where we thought we could anchor. Our electronic charts just have a blue mooring buoy.
For some strange reason we didn’t check the DBA information (as we have done every day so far) and we were getting ready to anchor. Turning the corner, we saw a huge mariner, of which we are now a part of, paying our entire monthly budget to – sigh! … We are, however, having a grand old time… here are some pics.
A day out of St Jean de Losne and we’d seen very few boats, until we got to this lock. It was like a party – such fun – they Aussie boat behind us were just lovely.
That urge to see around the next corner! Seille River (for one night – so very pretty!)
Macon, pretty but noisy night.
Lyon
Autumn colours
Sunny when I am at the helm.
Raining when I am working the lines!
Jackie Parry - author 